Olonkho. P. A. Oyunsky

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 thinking this

      She went to the southern forest,

      Keeping her back straight,

      And put the grass bedding

      Into a tree full of branches.

      Then having put the afterbirth,

      Which had been a cosy nest for her children,

      Into a decorated clay pot,

      She buried it

      So as not to be seen

      By anybody…

      Walking lightly

      Like a mare in the meadow,

      Throwing her head back proudly

      Like a mare in the field,

      She approached a clear lake,

      That had never frozen over,

      And dived into it,

      Splashing like a duck.

      She washed off her heavy sweat,

      She scrubbed off her dark filth…

      After that she jumped out of the lake

      And, standing on the northern side

      Of the high, narrow, open cape,

      She gave herself up

      To the refreshing summer air,

      Throwing over her shoulders

      Her lynx coat hanging loose,

      Her hat made with three sable furs on her head.

      She entered her native house,

      And going up to her hearth,

      She began to greet it…

      ‘If I forget my Ejen Ekhsit,

      Who has come to greet me,

      If I ignore my Akhtar Aiyyhyt,

      Who has come to bless me,

      If I fail to see her off gladly

      On the third day of my delivery

      She will be grieved and СКАЧАТЬ