During the morning, the twilight
falls a gauze over the field.
Over the field a light mist
shows those who come from there.
Wanders heard
placeless souls on that
foggy field,
in the mist of the dusky morning.
Go get lost under the mist,
not Tuonen's roads are easy.
Ututytt¶, Terhenneiti
don't hide the little child.
It is a cold
morning in the lap of the field, a foggy life.
The birds are not awake,
no Starling shows the day.
It is as quiet as the night,
even though the morning is at hand.
Do you hear that miserable song,
that song is Terhenneid's.
Hento is a misty gauze,
honnomier is the voice of the fog,
the most hazy of all
Ututyuuö, the bringer of Tuonen.

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