Olonkho. P. A. Oyunsky

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ say that warrior Kun Jiribineh

      With the grey horse

      Is an inbred unhealthy boy.

      Can I not crush him?

      Whether they agree or not,

      It is all the same:

      I will take away and marry

      My fair-faced Tuyarima Kuo.

      Ha-ha…ha-ha…’

      Having said that,

      He pretended

      To rejoice and laugh,

      Hiccupping, showing his teeth

      Like the sharp brims

      Of a split birch-bark basket.

      Having heard this,

      A young man of the Middle World,

      The brave warrior Kun Jiribineh

      With the light-grey horse

      Flew into a fury.

      His blood was up,

      He breathed heavily

      Like a sweating bull,

      He swelled with indignation,

      His muscles strained

      So that he arched his back

      Like a crooked tree.

      He threw his head back,

      His curly hair hanging back

      Down to his shoulders,

      Rose up like a foal’s tail,

      Swished to and fro over his head,

      Sparkling with sulphur fire,

      Flint sparks flashing

      From his eyes and face.

      His eyes became bloodshot;

      He had thoughts of deathly battle.

      His fingers crunched

      As if he was beating a drum,

      His strong tendons pinged,

      Tightened like twined willows,

      He turned green

      Like silver filings,

      Like iron filings,

      He turned dark,

      Like copper filings

      He turned red,

      Holding his long spear high,

      Thirsting for fresh blood,

      Glittering to reflect

      A young woman’s eyelashes

      And eyebrows,

      Holding his long bloody batas

      Like a walking stick

      Glittering to reflect

      A young man’s teeth and lips,

      Swollen like a mountain,

      Taking wide steps,

      Treading heavily,

      He came up to the demon’s son,

      To the best of Ajarais,

      And brandished his huge fist

      Under the black, hooked nose

      Of the Abaahy.

      The face of the Abaahy shrank.

      The warrior spat in his eyes and face

      And started to insult him

      With caustic words…

      KUN JIRIBINEH’S SONG

      ‘Buo-buo! Buo-diibin…

      Filthy face, bandy legs, bloody mouth,

      Blackguard, son of Ajarais

      Dropped down

      From a passing cloud,

      Son of a demon dropped down

      From a moving cloud,

      I will trample on you,

      I will bridle you,

      I will put you on your back

      And rip your belly open.

      Be quick to say your last words

      Before you die!

      Who are you?

      I want to know –

      Whom am I going to kill?

      Where are you from, blackguard?

      How will I tell in my story

      Whose black blood I have shed,

      Whose thick skin I have cut,

      Whose long bones I have broken?!

      If you want to know who I am,

      Who is the one boasting

      In front of you,

      You should know this:

      I am the mighty and vigorous warrior,

      Kun Jiribineh

      On the grey horse,

      With the fair-faced sister

      Tuyarima Kuo

      On the chestnut ambler,

      Whose father is Sakha Saaryn,

      Whose mother is Sabyia Baai Khotun,

      Destined to engender

      Three kins of Sakha,

      Appointed СКАЧАТЬ