Son Of The Mare 作词：Kaspars Barbals, Edgars Grabovskis, Edgar Krumins, Peteris Kvetkovskis
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 shed 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