In the northern forests of Finland, where the lakes reflect the sky and pine trees murmur ancient secrets, a great poem was born. The Kalevala, Finland's national epic, is a tapestry of myth, magic, and memory—an oral tradition stitched together by Elias Lönnrot in the 19th century. To read the Kalevala is not simply to explore the stories of Finland's mythic past. It is to encounter the sacred patterns of nature, language, and the human soul.
Though less globally famous than the Iliad or the Mahabharata, the Kalevala sits comfortably beside them in mythic weight. Composed of fifty runes (or cantos), it weaves together folklore, cosmology, and hero legends. It speaks of cosmic eggs and sun-maidens, of smiths who forge wondrous machines, and of wise singers whose words literally shape the world.
Now, we journey into the rich mythopoetic world of the Kalevala and consider not only its stories, but also its symbols, worldview, and legacy—including its influence on J.R.R. Tolkien, whose tragic hero Túrin Turambar was modeled after the sorrowful Kullervo.
The Creation in Song: Cosmology and Shamanism
The Kalevala opens not with war but with a woman. Ilmatar, the goddess of air, descends into the sea and becomes pregnant by the wind. From her womb is born Väinämöinen, a sage whose songs hold cosmic power. The world itself forms from the fragments of a duck's egg: sky from the shell, sun from the yolk, and so on.
This tale is not a theological treatise but a shamanic vision. As Wilfrid Bonser noted, the cosmology of the Kalevala is deeply tied to animistic belief—every object has spirit, every act of naming carries consequence. Magic, here, is not illusion. It is a spiritual force, activated by sound, song, and memory.
Väinämöinen's power lies in his voice. Like Orpheus or Odin, he sings the world into shape and his enemies into submission. Words, in the Kalevala, are weapons, tools, and sacraments. One cannot build a boat without knowing the "three words of the Master"; without them, even the greatest craftsman fails.
Heroes and Enchantments: Väinämöinen, Ilmarinen, and Lemminkäinen
The central figures of the Kalevala are three very different heroes. Väinämöinen, the sage; Ilmarinen, the divine smith; and Lemminkäinen, the brash lover and fighter. Each seeks a bride from Pohjola, the land of darkness ruled by the powerful sorceress Louhi.
Ilmarinen wins his bride by forging the Sampo, a mysterious artifact often described as a cosmic mill that produces grain, salt, and gold. It may be read as a symbol of abundance, order, or even the axis mundi—the world's turning point. But once the Sampo is stolen back by Louhi, chaos follows.
Lemminkäinen's tale is tragic and eerie: after insulting Louhi, he is killed and his body dismembered and cast into the river of the dead. His mother gathers the pieces and restores him—a powerful image of maternal love and resurrection.
Together, these tales dramatize the struggle between creation and entropy, between sung truth and sorcerous manipulation. Each hero offers a facet of the Finnish spiritual imagination.
Kullervo: The Kalevala's Darkest Thread
While much of the Kalevala celebrates cleverness, courage, and song, the tale of Kullervo is stark and unsettling. Born into tragedy, abused by his master, and tricked into incest with his lost sister, Kullervo's life is marked by vengeance and sorrow. He finally kills himself with his own sword, asking it whether it would "drink the blood of the guiltless."
This narrative is not one of redemption but of warning. Kullervo is what happens when song fails, when the bonds of kinship and community break. His tale has haunted many readers—including Tolkien, who used it as the basis for his doomed hero Túrin. As Marie Barnfield has noted, the parallels are numerous: both figures are fosterlings, wanderers, dragon-slayers, and ultimately victims of fate and their own rage.
In Kullervo, we see a mythic expression of trauma: his fate is shaped by generational curses, but also by a culture unable to heal him. He is the opposite of Väinämöinen: his words destroy rather than mend.
Women, Nature, and the Sacred Order
Women in the Kalevala are rarely passive. Ilmatar creates the world. Louhi controls the Sampo and battles the heroes with equal cunning. Even the unnamed women who weave with golden combs or run from suitors shape the flow of events.
One figure who deserves special attention is Marjatta, who in the final canto gives virgin birth to a holy child. The child challenges Väinämöinen and signals a new spiritual age. This ending, likely added by Lönnrot, is deeply Christian, but it also echoes pre-Christian motifs of miraculous birth and divine succession.
As Bonser observed in his analysis of Kalevala mythology, the sacred is not confined to the sky or the temple—it is in the trees, the forge, the sauna, the sauna water, and the forest path. The dead walk alongside the living. The bear is honored as both beast and brother. Magic flows from remembering the names of things.
This worldview is not linear but cyclical. Knowledge is recovered, not invented. Harmony lies not in conquest, but in balance.
A Legacy of Resonance: Kalevala's Influence
The Kalevala was not simply an ethnographic curiosity. It became a cornerstone of Finnish national identity, inspiring artists, composers (like Sibelius), and writers across Europe.
J.R.R. Tolkien, as noted, was profoundly shaped by the Kalevala. He called his own myth-making an effort to create a "mythology for England," and early works like The Story of Kullervo and The Children of Húrin show how deeply he mined Finnish myth for material.
In our own time, fantasy authors, game designers, poets, and historians continue to rediscover the Kalevala. It offers not only stories, but a worldview: one in which language, landscape, and spirit are inseparable.
When you read the Kalevala, you’ll notice its lines have a swinging, sing-song rhythm. This comes from its traditional trochaic tetrameter – a poetic meter of four trochees (each trochee is a stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable) per line, typically eight syllables total in a DUM-da DUM-da DUM-da DUM-da pattern. The effect is a falling, lilting cadence (the stress hits up front and then “falls off”), which gives the Kalevala a chant-like, musical quality well-suited to oral storytelling. In fact, this “Kalevala meter” comes from ancient Finnish folk songs and charms, often laden with alliteration and repetition, and it even appears in the Estonian epic Kalevipoeg written in the same four-beat rhythm.
Beyond Finland, the meter’s influence has echoed through other works: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow famously borrowed this trochaic tetrameter for his 1855 poem The Song of Hiawatha, imitating the Kalevala’s steady beat (the iconic opening lines “By the shores of Gitche Gumee, / By the shining Big-Sea-Water” resound with that DUM-da pulse).
In English this trochaic rhythm sounds distinctive – even Shakespeare used it for magical or otherworldly characters (it’s “famously reserved” for the speech of fairies in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and the witches’ incantations in Macbeth also drum along in trochaic meter). This driving, four-beat meter gives the Kalevala its memorable oral poetry vibe, and its hypnotic rhythm has inspired writers and composers far beyond the Nordic world.
The Kalevala is more than a literary artifact. It is a living current in the great river of myth. It reminds us that stories can shape nations, heal grief, warn against hubris, and connect us to forces larger than ourselves.
In an age hungry for both rootedness and wonder, the Kalevala speaks in a voice ancient and evergreen:
"Songs shall echo where once they sounded,
Words arise where first they fell..."
It is not merely a story we read, but one we enter.
Where to Read the Kalevala
For a readable poetic translation: John Martin Crawford (1888), public domain.
For scholarly analysis: W.F. Kirby's edition (Everyman Library, 1907) or Magoun's prose version.
Kalevala: Epic of the Finnish People edited by Eino Friberg.
Online: Project Gutenberg hosts both Crawford and Kirby translations.
Further Reading and Sources
Wilfrid Bonser, “The Kalevala: The National Epic of Finland,” Folklore 76, no. 4 (1965)
Wilfrid Bonser, "The Mythology of the Kalevala," Folklore 39, no. 4 (1928)
Marie Barnfield, "Túrin Turambar and the Tale of the Fosterling," Mallorn, Dec. 1994
Nancy Caciola, “Wraiths, Revenants and Ritual in Medieval Culture,” Past & Present 152 (1996)
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Story of Kullervo, ed. Verlyn Flieger (2015)
Eino Friberg (trans.), Kalevala: Epic of the Finnish People (Otava, 1988)
The Kalevala’s trochaic meter and features; Longfellow’s Hiawatha in Kalevala meter; Shakespeare’s use of trochaic tetrameter.
By Robert Wilhelm Ekman - Pinx - maalaustaide Suomessa: Suuria kertomuksia, p. 47. Weilin+Göös 2001., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=61410050
This was a great resume. I’m going to get hold of that poetic translation from 1888. The translation I read went a bit children’s telly by referring to Ilmarinen’s ’magic mittens’.
Love this! Thanks 🙏🏼 despite being a dual Australian-Finnish citizen, I don’t know much about Kalevala, probably because I live in an entirely Swedish speaking Finnish province. You’ve inspired me to dig deeper!