Son of the Mare - Skyforger

On a mountain top

By a clear wellspring

Laima weaves fate

Plaiting the thread

A golden spinning-wheel runs under her feet

Who will live and who will die

Where joy will be heard and where tears will be she’d

One thread is long, the other is short

As she decides, so shall she weave

A cuckoo calls from a tree

Behind the window a young lady is weeping:

— «If only Laima would give me a son I would nurse and fondle him as best as I could!»

Don’t cry young lady — Laima already knows

She weaves fate, plaiting the thread

For soon there will be time for a hero to come

For a hero to come and start his story

In your dream you will see what must be done

Catch a pike-fish, gut it and boil it She who will eat that pike

Will soon become pregnant

Half man, half beast — the mare will bear a son

Like flint, like steel — undefeatable!

But everything will happen as Laima has decreed

There will be three who eat that pike

A son born from a lady, another from a maidservant

But loudest cried third one in the white mare’s stable

Half man, half beast — the mare will bear a son

Like flint, like steel — undefeatable!

They will become like brothers

But one will be above them all

Not by years, but by days he will grow

Kurbads — son of the mare he will be called

No work will be too hard for him

On the third year they send him to hunt

On the seventh he boldly lifts his sword

He will roll boulders like they were peas

He’s Kurbads — son of the mare