Olonkho. P. A. Oyunsky

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      How tired I am

      From the first labour pains,

      How fatigued I am

      By the second labour pains,

      How my strong black liver

      Is troubled…

      How heavily my big heart

      Is beating…’

      She complained with moans to Akhtar Aiyyhyt,

      She groaned out gloomily to Ejen Ekhsit…

      As soon as she had finished,

      A gust of warm air arrived

      From the low yellow edge

      Of the eastern sky.

      Fleecy clouds came up in a circle.

      Nelbeldjin Ekhsit, Nelbeng Aiyyhyt

      Who became an Ejen Ekhsit

      For young women,

      Who became an Akhtar Aiyyhyt

      For elderly women,

      Turning into a beautiful mare

      Of a milky colour rose,

      Took a peep at their dwelling,

      Their golden nest.

      The mare ran around it thrice

      From the sunny side,

      The mare snorted noisily thrice –

      The blistering heat remained

      For three long months.

      She neighed loudly thrice –

      A white abundance

      Fell down for three long years.

      She exerted herself thrice –

      Blue haze came down…

      After that,

      While the olonkhosut was looking around,

      The mare rushed

      Into the vast, spacious tuhulgeh;⁸⁵

      She plunged her muzzle

      Into a bowl full of kumis,

      She gulped it down greedily,

      Gurgling, expanding her nostrils,

      Bending like a crane…

      Then the mare quickly came up

      To the spacious dwelling,

      Pushed her head through the window.

      When she strained to snort three times,

      The white ilgeh filled the house

      Up to the middle of the walls…

      Afterwards, she stumbled

      Over a welcoming seleh rope

      And, turning into an impressive woman,

      She relaxed, stepped lightly and slowly…

      Holding fast in her right hand

      The soul of a powerful boy

      She turned it into a feathered arrow.

      Holding tight in her left hand

      The soul of a girl

      Having transformed it into scissors,

      She flew into their golden nest,

      The spacious dwelling.

      Coming to the head of the bed

      She started to chatter,

      Coming to the foot of the bed

      She started to give out her blessings,

      Coming to the rear side of the bed

      She cooed and conjured.

      The dear grandmother⁸⁶ khotun

      Turning round in a welcoming way

      She began to sing sincerely,

      With deep feelings.

      She started to bless

      With her warm, soft hands

      The chubby white waist

      Of Sabyia Baai Khotun,

      The foremother of Sakha.

      She quickly took off her pants,

      Sewn from lynx forepaws,

      She began to stroke her two thighs

      With her blessing hands…

      She began to speak like a man,

      Fluently and quietly…

      AIYYHYT’S BLESSING

      ‘Urui-aikhal! Urui-michil!

      Che-duo, chel-baraan!

      I have told you Ejen Ekhsit’s wishes,

      Greetings of a young woman.

      I give into your care

      A boy with a frightful temper…

      Narin-naskil, kugel-nuskhal!

      I am here, smiling at you to utter the blessing

      Of Akhtar Aiyyhyt,

      The goddess for elderly women.

      I have determined,

      The future of your plump children,

      I have settled

      The fortune of your modest children,

      I give into your care

      A girl with a hot temper.

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