Amorphis - My Kantele : My Kantele
 

Amorphis



My Kantele



My Kantele





Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense



Who say that music reckon that the kantele



Was fashioned by a god



Out of a great pike's shoulders



>From a water-dog's hooked bones:



It was made from the grief



Moulded from sorrow







Its belly out of hard days



Its soundboard from endless woes



Its strings gathered from torments



And its pegs from other ills







So it will not play, will not rejoice at all



Music will not play to please



Give off the right sort of joy



For it was fashioned from cares



Moulded from sorrow.