Maanalainen kolahtaa kuin keksilaatikko,
murut töyssähtävät, tee höyryää
enkä minä Lontoossa mykkänä harpo

And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.

On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes,
the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.
I wipe them away with a black woolly glove
And try not to notice I've fallen in love

On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:
This is nothing. you're high on the charm and the drink.
But the juke-box inside me is playing a song
That says something different. And when was it wrong?

On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair
I am tempted to skip. You're a fool. I don't care.
the head does its best but the heart is the boss-
I admit it before I am halfway across

Mÿnna tachton gernast spuho somen gelen Emÿna daÿda"

[modern: Minä tahdon kernaasti puhua suomen kieltä, [mutta] en minä taida]
("I willingly want to speak Finnish, [but] I am not able")

(found in a German travel journal c.1450)

It [discovering Finnish] was like discovering a wine-cellar filled with bottles of amazing wine of a kind and flavour never tasted before. It quite intoxicated me.

Tšernobylin jälkeen… Lasten piirustusnäyttelyssä haikara astelee mustalla kevätpellolla… Alla lukee: ‘Kukaan ei ole kertonut haikaralle.’ Minulla oli samanlaiset tunteet.