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be punished…

      On the smooth surface

      Of the three-layered

      Milky-white high sky,

      On its warm and soft soil

      The wife of the old man Urung-Aar Toyon

      Whose hair was grey,

      Whose breath was hot,

      Who had a fur hat made with three sable skins,

      The kindest Ajynga-Sier Khotun

      Whose fair face was beaming

      Like the rays of the setting sun,

      Whose fair face was radiant

      Like the rays of the rising sun,

      Blinking her eyes, smiling sweetly,

      Looking contented, gave birth to a child

      Ahead of its due time.

      The baby rolled out

      From his mother’s womb,

      As though he was made of solid stone.

      He was full of wild energy

      And spoiling for a fight,

      Created chaos everywhere.

      As he fell to the ground

      Giggling and shouting:

      ‘You, black cheats

      And bloody dogs,

      You, ill-natured people, bearing malice,

      You have flown at the three worlds like insects,

      Your nobleness, your highness!

      Who do you want to intimidate?

      By your menacing words

      And mean actions?

      I was born here

      To pulverize your fiery edicts

      Like water…

      I will smash to pieces

      The greedy evil tribes

      And stamp them out of existence,

      I will tear down their dwellings,

      I will extinguish the fire in their hearths,

      I will throw into the flames

      The tribe of the Sun,

      I will scatter their ashes.

      You have grown too fat and too rich

      Depriving a horseman of his whip.

      You have all become self-indulgent

      Depriving a passer-by of his stick.

      I will show you what it is

      To be so fat and so greedy…

      You will see it,

      When I make the Upper World scream;

      You will hear it,

      When I make the Under World breathless;

      You will know it,

      When I make the Middle World shout!’

      As soon as he threatened,

      Kicking and shaking his fist,

      The bottom of the hostile

      Eluu Cherkechekh cringed

      And cried out in fear.

      The southern swirling sky wriggled

      Like a pike on a frying pan

      And cried out,

      Shedding bloody tears.

      The restless Middle World

      Rocked at its centre,

      Swayed along the edges,

      Uttered shrill cries

      Like a proud and angry young girl,

      Sobbing with watery blood…

      When the grand people

      And the greatest lords

      Of the Under World,

      The best ones and the noblest men

      Of the Upper World,

      Elders of the three kins,

      With high ranks

      Heard the child, they shouted:

      ‘Art-tatai, fellows!

      Alaata, friends?!

      What abusive words

      This new-born child has uttered!

      What a sharp tongue he has!

      What a naughty child with a nasty temper

      And evil thoughts have been born!

      He was conceived by the grandest

      Urung-Aar Toyon,

      He was born of the clever

      Ajynga-Sier Khotun,

      How come he is such a wretch?!!

      Let it be an order of Odun Khan,

      Let it be an edict of Genghis Khan,

      Let it be a decision by Jilga Toyon!

      It is not enough what we know!

      It is not enough what we see!

      Let the Supreme Deities know,

      Let the greatest ones see.’

      The bravest men

      Of the clamorous tribe

      From the swirling southern sky,

      Bristly men

      Of a sharp-toothed tribe

      From the terrible Under World said:

      ‘If we speak so about

      The child of the honoured family

      With heavy breath

      And dark thoughts,

      They will take revenge…

      If the destiny of the Odun Khan differs

      From the great fiery edict,

      Then we will not step aside

      And we will do what we want.’

      So saying, the evil tribes of Ajarais

      Winked at each other.

      Having heard these words, the Odun Khan,

      Genghis Khan, and Jilga Toyon

      Ordered six tender Aiyy udagans,

      Who were fortune-tellers

      Of the high white sky,

      Who were patronesses

      Of the eight-layered sky,

      To tie up the boy and send him down

      To the three fortune-telling cradles,

      To determine his future fate…

      As soon as the six tender Aiyy udagans

      Lashed the powerful kicking boy

      With a droning bewitching rope;

      As soon as their invocation was over,

      At that very moment

      A terrible sound was heard

      As if a block of stone had exploded.

      A

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