There is an old Carelian folk song:

Onpa taivaassa tarjona lapsillekin, jotka Jeesusta rakastavat
Kultakruunut ja valkeat vaatte hetkin harput, joilla he soittelevat.
Puhdas kulta on tie, jota astelevat kera laulaen enkelien.
Karitsan siellä kasvoja katselevat veriuhria syntisien.

And there is a poem which echos the song:
Miksi he haravoivat kultaiset, keltaiset lehdet poluilta, Kun kerrankin voisi sanoa:"Puhdas kulta on tie, jota astelevat." Here is a very rough translation of the song: In heaven, for the children who love Jesus there are gold crowns, white clothing, and harps for them to play. The road on which they walk with singing angels is pure gold. There they are looking at the face of the Lamb. The poem asks: Why do they rake the gold, yellow leaves from the path, when one could say again the road where they walk is pure gold? The people we have met in this area have a deep and abiding connection to nature and to the music of the region. The sister whose mokki this is immediately quoted the song and poem when we talked about the leaves falling and asked if we could help with the raking. Everyone seems to know the words and the tune which is in a minor key and rather mournful. But as they say, Something is lost in the translation.