KORPIKLAANI - Tuuleton (OFFICIAL VIDEO)

#korpiklaani #tuuleton #folkmetal
Tuuleton – The Windless
A bird-themed story where Windless is an almost flightless bird. He groans when he flies, but it's not good to be on the ground either. He mourns his inability to fly like the others and is bitter because he is not accepted by the others just because he's different.
Winter is coming and when the nightly frosts arrive it becomes increasingly difficult to survive in the cold ground.

DIRECTOR'S WORD
All of the music videos from the album "Jylhä" are made during the Covid-19 pandemic, and I wanted that to show somehow in this last story. Years have passed and the old man now lives in his hut with his grown-up daughter. Age starts to weigh, he feels feeble and dejected. On top of this he has caught some disease from one of his trips, and his time seems to be running out. The disease makes his mind wander, leading him to his deceased wife and her marshy grave, to landscapes already familiar from the "Leväluhta"-video. But will it be his time to go...?

Director / Scriptwriter / Cinematographer / Editor: Markku Kirves
Light & grip: Italo Moncada
Assistant: Tomi Malin
Production house: Pajula Productions

Old man: Yrjänä Ermala
Daughter: Katri Järvelä
Wife (leväluhta memories): Mirja Oksanen

Film was shot at Huovilan puisto in Kärkölä in 2020.

Thanks to Markku Kirves for visualising another scene to our main character's story, cheers to our talented actors Yrjänä & Katri and special thanks to Italo Moncada & Tomi Malin for assisting with lights & smoke. Also thanks to Kari Korvenranta for helping out with location & providing logs for fireplace , Toni Vilén, Tero Doukas, Kärkölän kunta, Huovilan puisto, Kärkölä-seura, Huovilan museoalue, Artistiasu, Isobar Finland and Valofirma.

LYRICS - Tuomas Keskimäki

Tuuleton näitä puita ei koske,
sen itku peittänyt kaiken maan.
Tuuleton voisi hiljainen olla,
vaan se yllä kulkiessa huomataan.
Istuu vaiti, makaa kuura kasvoilla,
kun aamu syntyy takaa pimeän.

Paikalleen päätyy jokainen meistä,
eivät yksin kulje pään yli jäätyneet.
Saarelle saapuu hiljaiset kurjet,
joiden auraan yhtyy jäästä selvinneet.
Painuu pää, lipuu luopuneen lautta,
jään kiilto kuin taivaan kautta hohtaa.

Kituvana astuu sammalmättään – Tuuleton.
Ikijoissa juuret jäätää puita.
Ikävä ei souda vastaan, istuu vierelle:
ikävässä kaikuni on kovempi!

Alenevan elon vuoksi rastaidenkin
talvitie kulkisi päältäni!
Hangella hiljainen Tuuleton!

Pään yltä tuntuu kaikki maa nyt menevän,
eivät minua mukaan ottaneet.
Jään seuraan hiljaa katoavan tuulen,
ylitsemme käyvät siipein taipaleet.
Varjot kuin valoja yllä pimeän maan sylien,
valot kuin tuntemattomien askeleet.
Yölliset kuin päiviä päällä päivätönten kylien,
alleni jäähän kylmät jalkani jäätyneet.

Kituvana astuu sammalmättään – Tuuleton.
Joen lautta kylmää jalkaluita.
Ikävä ei souda vastaan, istuu vierelle:
ikävässä kaikuni on kovempi!

Alenevan elon vuoksi rastaidenkin
talvitie kulkisi päältäni!
Rastaiden taipaleet näen jäältäni.
Talvitie kulkisi päältäni!
Hangella hiljainen Tuuleton!

TRANSLATION
The Windless doesn’t touch these trees,
its crying has covered all the ground.
The Windless could be the silent one,
but noticed when travels above.
Sits silent, the frost rests on the face,
when the morning is born behind the dark.

Every one of us ends up in its own place,
the frozen ones don’t travel alone over the head.
The silent cranes arrive to the island,
and survivors of ice join to the wedge of cranes.
The head falls, and the ferry of one who surrenders gliding,
the shine of ice shimmer like through the sky.

Steps as ailing over the moss – The Windless.
The roots freezes trees in eternal rivers.
The longing doesn’t row against, sits next to:
in longing my echo is louder.

Because of descending life,
the winter road of throstles would pass over me!
The silent Windless is on the snow!

It feels like all the ground is going overhead,
they didn’t take me with them.
I stay with silently disappearing wind,
the journeys of wings go over us.
The shadows are like lights over the laps of the dark ground,
the lights are like strangers’ footsteps.
The nocturnal are like days over the day less villages,
under me my cold feet are frozen on the ice.

Steps as ailing over the moss – The Windless.
The river’s ferry freezes the foot bones.
The longing doesn’t row against, sits next to:
in longing my echo is louder.

Because of descending life,
the winter road of throstles would pass over me!
I see the throstles’ journeys from my ice.
The winter road would pass over me!
The silent Windless is on the snow!