LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

dogs,

      Let us keep away from them.’

      They so said and decided to settle

      In the voracious,

      Swirling, southern fiery sky,

      In the ravenous country

      With exploding flames

      Full of dissent, greed and avarice…

      The tribes of Arsan-Dolai,

      With the soft, silent steps,

      With the habit of stealing at night,

      Relishing robbery and break-ins,

      Said the following:

      ‘The tribes of Aiyy-Khan⁴⁷

      With the reins on their backs

      Will oppress us,

      If we plunder or destroy something,

      We will not find any place to hide…

      If we offend the tribe of Kun-Erken

      And find a shelter at the bottom

      Of the bloody Eluu-Cherkechekh,

      It will be hard for them to find us.

      If we offend the tribe of Aiyy-Khan

      And go down to the Under World,

      The three laughing abysses,⁴⁸

      Will be the best place to hide.’

      So they went down to the disastrous Under World

      And settled in this place…

      ‘Let us choose them!’

      They appointed

      Odun Khan, Genghis Khan, Jilga Toyon⁴⁹

      As the Lords of the Upper and Under tribes.

      Giving them strength and power,

      The great, arrogant and tall Jurantai⁵⁰

      Became their right-hand man.

      ‘He can use his fist if need be,’ they said…

      After that, the highest deities

      Who were so great

      That the earth could not bear them,

      Decided on their fate

      To establish life in the Middle World.

      But when they looked closely,

      It turned out

      That the Earth would court disasters

      And become a source of discord

      Between the Under World,

      The land of Ajarais

      Where cold winds blow,

      And the Upper World,⁵¹

      The greedy skies

      Where frosty winds blow…

      ‘We are uncommon and powerful,

      Knowing everybody and everything,

      Will we not succeed in establishing

      Life in the Middle World?

      Let us populate it with thirty-five tribes

      Of the Urankhai Sakha selected out of three kins,

      Who are lucky and merry,

      Bubbling over with joy,

      Who have belts around their waists,

      Who are front-faced and straight-nosed,

      Who have heads that turn

      And flexible joints

      And bodies of flesh

      And warm, moist breath,

      Let us give life to the Middle World.

      That was a wise decision by the highest deities…

      Straight to the east if you go,

      Where the radiant white sky becomes as soft

      As suede and hangs down smoothly,

      Where the sky borders the earth,

      Where the ripe and voluptuous Mother Earth,

      Breathing damp air and fog,

      Curves in like wooden skis,

      At the bottom of the sacred mountain

      Where the Yi – Moon Khotun was born, lounging,

      Behind the golden mountain

      Where the Kun – Sun Toyon⁵² was born, frolicking,

      Where three graceful white birch trees

      Grow splendidly,

      Predestined by Mother Nature

      To be a yellow chechir.⁵³

      Kun Jehegei Toyon,⁵⁴ Kureh Jehegei Khotun⁵⁵

      Were settled following a great decision

      Of the highest deities

      To increase unbridled horses and white furs,

      To look after whole-hooved horses,

      With long bushy manes,

      Which graze on the meadows

      And along the rivers.

      Straight to the west if you go,

      Where the double yellow sky

      Like the comb-shaped clouds

      Hangs down sluggishly,

      Breathing out rain and snow,

      Where the rim of Mother Earth

      Becomes round

      Like the rim of a leather vessel,

      Where nine great violent rivers converge,

      Roaring,

      Eight mighty remote rivers join in,

      Swirling and bubbling,

      Seven rivers with green grass banks

      Meet together.

      A blacksmith was settled

      To forge the weapons

      For the thirty-five tribes:

      Hard, bloodthirsty edges

      Ready to attack thick flesh,

      Grinding and choking,

      Steely, fiery weaponry

      Ready to go after fresh blood,

      Yelling avidly,

      Violent, bloodthirsty blades

      Obsessed with fresh, red blood,

      Armour and an arsenal for warriors,

      Quivers and bows,

      Clothing for fortune-telling.

      The blacksmith’s name was

      The old man Kytai Bakhsylan⁵⁶

      With gloomy thoughts and an evil disposition

      He was settled to be the forefather

      Of three malicious tribes.

      At the passage to the three worlds

      On a hideous hill

      Icy Muus Sorun the mound ⁵⁷

      Of awful reputation

      With bumps in three places,

Скачать книгу