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the stormy winds blow

      From the Upper World,

      May the kin of Kun-Erken⁸⁷

      With the reins on their backs protect you…

      If the cold wind blows

      From the Under World,

      May the kin of Aiyy-Khan

      With the straps on their necks guard you…

      May your ungracious and wilful son

      Have the following name:

      Strong and sturdy Kun Jiribineh⁸⁸

      With the light grey horse.

      May your vivacious

      And hot-tempered daughter

      Have the name

      Of fair-faced Tuyarima Kuo…

      With your past remembered

      As a pleasant time,

      With your future coming

      Free of problems.

      May you live in warmth and love

      Like an egg in a golden nest.

      I am saying farewell for years to come!’

      After that she walked noisily to the door

      Of their large house,

      Which seventy-seven men

      For seven days and nights

      Could not even half-open,

      Pushed it open

      As easily as if it were a leaf.

      She crossed the massive threshold

      The size of a four-year-old mare

      Resting on its side.

      Bending her back

      She turned at once

      Into a beautiful four-year-old mare.

      Snorting and neighing,

      She jumped up to the large white cloud.

      Looking like the skin of a mare

      Complete with its hooves and mane,

      She flew straight up into the high sky,

      To the Upper World

      With a blue haze around her breast,

      With a white haze under her feet…

      To tell you the full story,

      To tell you right up to the end,

      Using colourful and picturesque words,

      This is what happens next:

      Sakha Saaryn Toyon, Sabyia Baai Khotun,

      Destined to give birth

      To three kins of Sakha,

      Were singled out

      To beget four kins of Sakha.

      Holding their boy and girl

      Under their armpits,

      They scrubbed them with the water

      Of a deep lake,

      Washed them with the water

      Of a blue lake…

      Fair-faced Sabyia Baai Khotun

      Took out her delicious generous breasts

      With her ten long silver fingers –

      Looking like ten she-ermines

      With their heads down.

      She put the nipple of her right breast

      Into the mouth of her restless

      And amazingly alert son,

      She put the nipple of her left breast

      Into the mouth of her vivacious

      And hot-tempered daughter…

      The dear children sucked avidly

      Until they were full.

      The boy, the obstinate one, sucked so heartily

      That the blood drained from his mother’s face,

      That her finger tips became blue.

      She forcefully took her son’s lips

      Away from her breast

      And handed him to his father.

      She quickly wrapped up

      Her hot-tempered daughter

      In a sable skin

      So that she would not look up

      To the God of Sky,

      So that she would not be seen

      By the God of Sun,

      So that she did not darken

      When she looked at the rays

      Of the white radiant sun,

      So that she did not change colour

      When she gazed at the brilliance

      Of the evening setting sun.…

      Sakha Saaryn Toyon,

      The forefather of the Sakha,

      Having taken his awesome son

      In his hands,

      And in order for his son to become

      A fearless warrior,

      Who would make a spear

      And go up to the Upper World,

      He wrapped him up

      In the best wolf hide.

      And in order for his son to make a chisel,

      And create an uproar in the Under World,

      He swaddled his son,

      Face down in the she-bear fur

      With the paws

      And sang him to sleep…

      Three days later,

      When the white shining sun

      With three blazing rays

      Like the glittering blade of the batas,

      Rose in the white eternal sky,

      Sabyia Baai Khotun,

      The foremother of the Sakha

      Gripped her grass bedding

      Where she had given birth

      To her children.

      ‘If I throw it about on the ground or soil,

      Into the wet air and fog,

      Into the mud and slush,

      My descendants will languish

      And disappear.

      If I fall face down,

      My son will not lift me

      Back onto my feet,

      Supporting my forehead.

      If I fall backwards

      My daughter will not come

      To my assistance

      And hold up the back of my head

      With her virtuous hands,

      And help me

      To catch my breath.’

      While

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