After Aino drowns rather than wed old Wainamoinen, her mother’s grief turns hydrological. The mother who confesses she “Drove away my lovely Aino” weeps tears that run down face, bosom, garment, and shoe to the ground [The Kalevala, Rune IV]. The text is exact about what they become: “Form they streamlets three in number, / And their source, the mother’s eyelids”; each streamlet, “larger growing, / Soon becomes a rushing torrent”, and “In each rushing, roaring torrent, / There a cataract is foaming” [ibid.]. The waters keep building landscape: “Rise three pillared rocks in grandeur”, hillocks on the rocks, birches on the hillocks, and on each birch a golden cuckoo — calls of love, of suitor, of consolation — the last singing “For the broken-hearted mother” all its life [ibid.]. The rune even draws its own moral: “Never urge unwilling daughters” [ibid.]. Rivers, cataracts, and crags from one woman’s weeping — the geography of grief, mapped stream by stream. Thompson’s Irish, Nebraska, and Upoto authorities for water-from-tears are parsed but unwired; the Finnish page is the only witness served, and it is complete.