Olonkho. P. A. Oyunsky

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СКАЧАТЬ into the disastrous pass

      Which served Alyp Khara, Aat Mogoidon,

      A notorious hero of the Ajarai tribe

      With a crooked horn

      Drooping down to his beak,

      With strong legs,

      With a terrible, short-legged ox

      Which doesn’t stumble over its tail,

      To get up and destroy

      The kind-hearted

      Tribe of Aiyy-Khan

      With the reins on their backs,

      The endless

      Muus Kunkui khotun pass

      With plenty of misery,

      The Khan Jaralyk pass

      Stretched out broadly

      Breathing heavily

      A dense mist of blood

      As if spraying from a torn,

      Bloody throat...

      If you turn around and look

      Below the sloping rim

      Of the eastern, reticulate sky

      With cirrus clouds

      Soaring and swirling up,

      Like the spotty chested wood grouse,

      Twisting around

      In the dense dark forest:

      It had immense woods

      With unknown boundaries,

      With scaly-barked

      Huge trees

      With crooked branches,

      With trembling leaves,

      As if great udagans ladies

      In forgotten ancient times

      Saw her coming in the flesh

      And went out to greet,

      Chanting and shaking, praising

      Their Ekhsit Mother-Goddess

      Who was walking towards them

      Rubbing her two radiant

      Smooth cheeks as golden

      As early beams of my white sun in spring,

      With her warm and blessing hands...

      If you open up

      And look wonderingly

      As a nimble horse

      At the bottom side –

      It had a large lake with an island,

      Where a spen dwelled,

      Where a goldeneye-duck played,

      Reminiscent of an eight-channelled

      Khayakh butter block,⁵

      Blessed and then thrown

      With a tremendous splash

      Into a rocky river...

      It had a deep, sky-blue lake

      Where a stork nested,

      Where a harlequin duck thrived,

      With waves beating loudly

      Against the sides of its banks

      Reminiscent of seven-channelled

      Meat blocks

      Shaken and swung

      Into the bubbling water

      Of a white, winding pass...

      There is a huge milky lake

      Which never froze,

      Where a white crane

      With rimmed eyes

      With colourful feet sang,

      Where a crane dwelled,

      Where a grebe played,

      Reminiscent of a three-channelled

      Mould of fresh butter

      Spilled out with a kick

      From a birch-bark bucket

      Into a riverhead...

      If you look with curiosity

      Of a lean, thirsty

      One-year-old, grey foal

      At another side –

      You see

      A grassy, river-bottomed sacred white passage

      Hung with horsemane,

      As an offering

      To Ekhsit Mother-Goddess,

      Blessed by Aiyyhyt,

      It resembles ridges of a palate

      As if the two-legged,

      The front-faced people

      Came up with a song

      To the Upper World,

      To the great name of Urung Aar Toyon,

      To greet him...

      If I quickly shift my gaze,

      If I direct my eyes

      To the setting, northern sky

      With raging whirlwinds,

      With plenty of sorceries,

      Having heavily pressed

      Its stormy bottom:

      On СКАЧАТЬ