“
Grove of Tuoni, grove of night! There thy bed of sand is light. Thither my baby I lead. Mirth and joy each long hour yields In the Prince of Tuoni's fields Tending the Tuonela cattle. Mirth and joy my babe will know, Lulled to sleep at evening glow By the pale Tuonela maiden. Surely joy hours will hold, Lying in thy cot of gold, Hearing the nightjar singing. Grove of Tuoni, grove of peace! There all strife and passion cease. Distant the treacherous world.
— ALEKSIS KIVI