Читать книгу Olonkho - P. A. Oyunsky - Страница 16

Song 1

The eight-rimmed, eight-brimmed ¹

Full of discord-discontent,

Our Primordial Motherland,

Was created-consecrated, they say…

So, we do our best to tell the story…

***

In ancient times

In warring, bloodthirsty times

Before the world changed,

Beyond the evil horizon

Of the awful earlier years,

When the Middle World²

Was not yet known,

As the thirty-five tribes

Emerging from everywhere,

To become the front-faced,³

Two-legged

Human beings

With an ability to foresee;⁴

The people of the Under World

Born wearing worn-out,⁵ ragged fur coats,

With teeth as sharp as a knife

Descendants of the famous tribe

Of Arsan Dolai⁶

And the famous old woman Ala Buhrai,⁷

Not yet known as the thirty-six tribes

To the people with the reins on their backs⁸

With foreseeing eyes;

The descendants of the Kun Aiyy family⁹

The great old man, Ulutuyar Uluu Toyon,¹⁰

Born in the upper, inaccessible sky,

And Khotun Kokhtuya with a shrill voice,¹¹

Not yet known as the thirty-nine tribes

To the people with the reins on their backs.

Tales about them were by no means on the tip of their sharp tongues.

The inhabited Middle World was created,

They say…

It is unknown if the smooth, white sky¹²

Is held together by its edges;

It is unknown if it hangs on radiant ropes,

It is impossible to see

Where it begins at three shiny locks

Where the steps rise into the air,

It is impossible to see how it floats

Above the deathly nyuken etugen.¹³

No wings can be seen

Which lift it into the air,

The axis cannot be seen

Which rotates the earth,

But a mournful song,

A sorrowful toyuk is heard.¹⁴

The great old man Ulutuyar Uluu Toyon Born in the upper inaccessible sky, And Khotun Kokhtuya with a shrill voice,

The great cold ocean lies beneath this World,¹⁵

The edge of the ocean cannot be seen,

The opposite side of the ocean

Cannot be seen.

The Middle World is washed

By the frightening waters

Of by the deadly Odun Baigal¹⁶

The thunder rumbles menacingly,

The lightning flashes brightly,

It is surrounded by the salty ocean,

With stunning white clouds above;

At the bottom of the World

There lies the bitter evil ocean

With its horrible, and deadly roar.

The edge of the Middle World

Is covered with ice and hoarfrost,

Where an evil storm swirls and plays,

The red sand on the hills –

Flying, buzzing and whispering.

Out of the yellow clay-covered ground

Copper-coloured dandelion shoots grow,

And green sedge grows on its white clay soil.

On the slopes of its mountain

The sun-beams dance,

Along the foothills of its mountain

Thick fog descends.

Its rocky mountain summits protrude sharply.

Its sides are so thick

That they will not give way under pressure,

Its backbone is so strong

That it will not bend when struck.

Its inner core is so wide

That it will not budge when battered.

It is the Earth with eight rims and six rings,

Discordant and discontented,

With the sun rising

And setting behind the trees,

With the water drying up,

And the wealth vanishing gradually.

Full of torments and disasters,

Hopeless and desperate,

The Middle World was created,

They say…

An olonkhosut¹⁷

Sat down, crossed his legs, and started

Singing his song

To the valiant toyon¹⁸

Of whom the underlings were afraid,

To the masters with daggers

Of whom the servants were afraid,

About how the evil tribe had followed them,

How the Abaahy¹⁹ tribe had chased them,

How three kins of Sakha²⁰

From the Upper and Under Worlds

Were born and grew in number.

I will recite as Timofey the Fat, and²¹

Though you may not like my recitation,

I will try and imitate, even if badly,

The old man Kuokhaian;

I will narrate the story of the grey-haired

Urung-Aar Toyon,²²

With the high fur hat

Made of three sable furs,

With feathers on the top,

Who dwelt at the lower part of the edge

Of the eight-layered yellow and white sky.

In the upper part of the three-layered

Inaccessible high sky,

Where the air was light and blue,

The sunny midday land was there,

The creamy, milky lake was there.

Each step he took brought him an ilgeh blessing.

His breath was hot,

He had a plentiful supply of food,

He lived surrounded by abundance,²³

They say…

A famous woman, Adjynga-Sier,

Was his wife and friend

Who shared his bed.

Her face was luminous

Like the rays of the rising sun,

Her face was radiant

Like the glow of the setting sun,

Her cheeks were crimson,

She was his khotun,²⁴ they say…

They became a forefather and a foremother

To the long-awaited people

With the reins on their backs,

With a strap on their necks,

Who had visionary shamans,

Kindly Aiyy²⁵ udagans;²⁶

They became their ancestors,

They say…

I was determined enough

To find out about other tribes

Who were perverse enough

To belong to different families.

In the remote past, thirty-nine tribes lived,

Behind the edge of the vast sky,

In the wide, secure dwelling-place,

Whose blood relative was Beki Sorun²⁷

With the gluttonous throat

As wide as the string of a fur cap,

Whose blood relative was Suor Toyon²⁸

With the big throat

As wide as the string of a waistcloth.

On the opposite side

Of the furious southern sky,

At the bottom of the violent hell,

There was the insidious blue sky

Under which a vast alaas²⁹ could be found,

Where eight demons guarded the dark hell.

There was a land which was a source of treachery,

Whose whirlwinds

Turned everything upside down.

And if ninety-nine great shamans

Were dragged out of that abyss

Using the noose of a black rope

With ninety-nine loops,

And were thrown right before her –

Such an evil shrew with sooty face –

She would not be tamed,

Her appetite would never be satisfied,

She would not get her fill.

That was Khotun Kokhtuya,

Cunning and insolent;³⁰

She ruled there

Sitting on her bloody-mucus ocean,

She had a pantry at the bottom,

She had a fence on the shady side,

She had a shed on the left side.

I want to tell you

As skilfully as Akim did,³¹

I want to speak

As expressively as Kylachisap did,³²

I want to paint the story in bright colours,

As to who was the friend of that smart old woman,

Who was good enough to share her bed,

To roll playfully on the bedding,

Who was the male

Destined to fertilize her womb?

It was Ulutuyar Uluu Sorun Toyon.³³

In the hollow of his chest

As large as a small sitting baby

There were two birthmarks

Looking like raw meat.

A fiery, revolving force whirled down

From his bleeding wound,

Which was right in the middle of his throat.

His spear, thirsting for fresh scarlet blood,

Glittered and reflected his young teeth and lips,

If it were driven into his hip socket

He would awake in a rage

Slapping his hips,

Crying out threateningly,

He would sit down menacingly.

It was he, her husband,

Ulutuyar Uluu Sorun Toyon…

He was as slender as a spear, As swift as an arrow, He was the best among the human beings, The most beautiful among them…

After the great hot-blooded battle

Which shook the firmness

Of the vast surrounding sky,

Uluu Sorun Toyon’s tribes

Known as the pugnacious and boastful

Thirty-nine tribes

Settled on the right side

Of the southern swirling sky,

They say…

If you want to know

Who are the men and women

Of these thirty-nine tribes,

Here they are…

There are girls filthy with infectious disease,

Unable to give birth to a baby,

Looking like the curved skeletons

Of sacrificed horses.

There are boys infected with a dreadful disease,

Who have never experienced intercourse,

Looking like the skeletons

Of sacrificed horses turned upside down.

If you want an idea of their wealth

Here are the facts…

They have a stooping, tall, black stallion

Which has never covered a mare.

They have an emaciated, snorting black mare,

Which has never been mounted by a stallion.

They have a starving, skinny black foal,

Plodding along, dying.

So, these are the greatest devils

Of the southern white sky.

If I tell it as Argunov did,³⁴

If I narrate it as Tabakhyrov did,³⁵

All bright and lively,

Kinsfolk of the Under World who begot the tribes

Born wearing worn-out, ragged fur coats

And fetters on their feet

In the ruinous country of Ap-Salbaniki³⁶

Who caused bloody death

In the hostile country

Of deadly Eluu Cherkechekh,³⁷

If you throw a burning noose

With eighty-eight loops

To pull out of the northern swirling sky

Eighty-eight great shamans,

If you tie them up

To push them into the gaping maw

Of that woman:

She wouldn’t be sated.

It was the great woman

Ala Buhrai, Aan Jahin,³⁸ their mistress,

Who was born wearing shackles,

Whose close relatives are covetous and stingy

Khapsa Buhrai and Aan Jahin,

Whose wells are always empty,

Whose deceit is endless,

She was the mother of the Aan-Darahy kin.³⁹

If you want to know

Who was that old woman’s man

Who he was to deserve her love,

To share her bed,

To climb on her,

To quench her thirst for love.

Here he is, her beloved man,

Arsan Dolai, Logayar Luo Khan –

Born wearing a worn-out, ragged fur coat,

With teeth as sharp as weapons.

Made of iron

With a big backside,

With legs that walked with a swing,

With a crooked nose,

Who became the father of evil relatives,

Who became the toyon of the deep abyss.

If you want to know

Who these best men

With yokes on their necks are,

What their future is,

How prosperous they are

Here it is…

Looking down at the land of Cherkechekh,

Out of the corner of my eye,

I see dark, thick-set boys

Who have never loved women,

I see dark, skinny girls

Walking with their heads thrown back

Who have never been pregnant;

I see a short-legged, cross-horned, dwarfish bull

Which has never impregnated cows.

For being deprived of this duty by Mother Nature –

Its herd of cows keep away,

As their hindquarters are too narrow

For a bull to climb on,

To give them posterity.

They have hungry infected calves,

As black as willow bark,

Scraggy and short-legged

All covered with scab,

Starving to death.

After the severe, fiery battle which made

The resounding white sky shiver,

The great greedy misers,

The hot-headed daredevils,

Having created bloody death

Came from the place of Eluu-Cherkechekh,

Settled in the insidious Under World,

In the mouth of Ap-Salbaniki.

They became relatives of Ajarai-Khan⁴⁰

And there were thirty-six tribes of them…

If one speaks about the vast and wide Middle World,

Where thirty-five tribes settled and lived,

If one repeats the Olonkho⁴¹

Sung by the grey-templed olonkhosut,

If one unburdens one’s heart

As the old woman Androsova did,⁴²

If one tells the story in the same words

As the deaf Beken did,⁴³

If one makes up the tale with joy and pleasure

Of how three kins of Sakha

Were created and spread,

Here is how the story goes:

Behind the far and remote side

Of the dangerous ancient times

When the upper greedy tribes

Used to fly like arrows,

Before the changing, awful

Other side of the ancient times,

When the lower terrible tribes

With their mouths wide open, ran everywhere,

When the three kins of Sakha,

Front-faced and straight-nosed,

Had not yet come into being,

At that time with no end in sight,

A terrible trouble began.

Three legendary kins of that country

For several centuries attacked each other.

In blind violence and fury,

The frenetic battle began:

They struck and spiked each other,

Shrieking and yelling,

They broke their legs,

Smashed each other’s weapons to pieces,

Grasping each other’s breasts,

Seizing each other by the throat,

Poking each other in the eyes,

Twining like bending trees.

They were the reason for the grief

That lasted for centuries,

They were the source of the noise

That never ceased.

There was great hubbub and upheaval

And great roaring for thirty days and nights;

They struck blows to each other’s heads,

They punched each other’s temples.

A disaster which was never forgotten

Took place there…

The blows of axes and batases⁴⁴

Rumbled like thunder,

Bows and arrows

Struck like lightning bolts,

The strong western wind

Burst out howling,

Nine wild storms swirled.

Out of the western sky,

Rain and snow came down in sheets.

The sun did not rise,

There was a thick fog everywhere.

The moon did not appear,

It became as dark as pitch

So they moved around by touch,

Trying to grasp each other in the night.

They wallowed in the shadows,

They flopped around like frogs,

They waggled around like bugs…⁴⁵

The resounding dome of the sky

Swayed unsteadily;

The inhabited Middle World

Was plunged into turmoil,

Turned around and capsized,

Engulfed in flames;

It began to wobble up and down like a quagmire,

The disastrous Under World was disturbed

Like water in a birch-bark bucket,

Blue, merciless flames

Came out of its four sides.

Between its four layers at the bottom

A spider would stay stuck.

The ninth stormy sky was shaken

Like water in a birch-bark bucket,

Burning furiously with blue flames,

Freezing with friable ice.

It had a single, whirlwind top

Where interminable sorrow settled

In the southern calamitous sky…

Under a spell, the three tribes

Pierced each other with spears…

Their tendons were too hard to bend,

Their body was too tough to be cut,

Their bones were too thick to be broken,

Their blood was impossible to shed.

They could not be killed,

They were immortal;

Three tribes sacrificed themselves

And fought to the death,

Piercing each other with stakes and spears:

Their eyes bloodshot,

Their bodies dripping with sweat

They dived into the ocean to cool their fury.

Unable to utter anything,

They only stammered,

They could hardly breathe

Sitting in a thick fog like shadows,

Swelling like a huge bellow,

They exhaled again and again.

Then they began to think it over:

‘The resounding vast sky has swayed, has it not?!

The life of the inhabited Middle World

Has changed greatly,

Has it not it, people?!

The disastrous Under World

Has been deeply alarmed,

Has it not, people?!

While the disaster is enough,

While misfortune is not too unbearable,

While we are still alive,

Let us begin talking of a peaceful way,

Let us put our heads together

To take counsel together…

What are we fighting for?!

Let us settle our dispute amicably’,

They muttered.

Looking here and there,

Throwing back their heads,

They started peace talks…

Tribes of the great and proud Ulutuyar Uluu Toyon

With fiery hands and sharp fingers,

Adept at stealing and robbery,

Said the following:

‘The tribes of Kun-Erken⁴⁶

With the reins on their backs

Will oppress us

When they find our fresh footprints,

They will bring misfortune to us

When they find our old footprints,

They will keep us in subservience…

Outright repudiation will not be enough

When they catch us,

Remorseless slander will be meaningless.

Let us not be neighbours with dogs,

Let us keep away from them.’

They so said and decided to settle

In the voracious,

Swirling, southern fiery sky,

In the ravenous country

With exploding flames

Full of dissent, greed and avarice…

The tribes of Arsan-Dolai,

With the soft, silent steps,

With the habit of stealing at night,

Relishing robbery and break-ins,

Said the following:

‘The tribes of Aiyy-Khan⁴⁷

With the reins on their backs

Will oppress us,

If we plunder or destroy something,

We will not find any place to hide…

If we offend the tribe of Kun-Erken

And find a shelter at the bottom

Of the bloody Eluu-Cherkechekh,

It will be hard for them to find us.

If we offend the tribe of Aiyy-Khan

And go down to the Under World,

The three laughing abysses,⁴⁸

Will be the best place to hide.’

So they went down to the disastrous Under World

And settled in this place…

‘Let us choose them!’

They appointed

Odun Khan, Genghis Khan, Jilga Toyon⁴⁹

As the Lords of the Upper and Under tribes.

Giving them strength and power,

The great, arrogant and tall Jurantai⁵⁰

Became their right-hand man.

‘He can use his fist if need be,’ they said…

After that, the highest deities

Who were so great

That the earth could not bear them,

Decided on their fate

To establish life in the Middle World.

But when they looked closely,

It turned out

That the Earth would court disasters

And become a source of discord

Between the Under World,

The land of Ajarais

Where cold winds blow,

And the Upper World,⁵¹

The greedy skies

Where frosty winds blow…

‘We are uncommon and powerful,

Knowing everybody and everything,

Will we not succeed in establishing

Life in the Middle World?

Let us populate it with thirty-five tribes

Of the Urankhai Sakha selected out of three kins,

Who are lucky and merry,

Bubbling over with joy,

Who have belts around their waists,

Who are front-faced and straight-nosed,

Who have heads that turn

And flexible joints

And bodies of flesh

And warm, moist breath,

Let us give life to the Middle World.

That was a wise decision by the highest deities…

Straight to the east if you go,

Where the radiant white sky becomes as soft

As suede and hangs down smoothly,

Where the sky borders the earth,

Where the ripe and voluptuous Mother Earth,

Breathing damp air and fog,

Curves in like wooden skis,

At the bottom of the sacred mountain

Where the Yi – Moon Khotun was born, lounging,

Behind the golden mountain

Where the Kun – Sun Toyon⁵² was born, frolicking,

Where three graceful white birch trees

Grow splendidly,

Predestined by Mother Nature

To be a yellow chechir.⁵³

Kun Jehegei Toyon,⁵⁴ Kureh Jehegei Khotun⁵⁵

Were settled following a great decision

Of the highest deities

To increase unbridled horses and white furs,

To look after whole-hooved horses,

With long bushy manes,

Which graze on the meadows

And along the rivers.

Straight to the west if you go,

Where the double yellow sky

Like the comb-shaped clouds

Hangs down sluggishly,

Breathing out rain and snow,

Where the rim of Mother Earth

Becomes round

Like the rim of a leather vessel,

Where nine great violent rivers converge,

Roaring,

Eight mighty remote rivers join in,

Swirling and bubbling,

Seven rivers with green grass banks

Meet together.

A blacksmith was settled

To forge the weapons

For the thirty-five tribes:

Hard, bloodthirsty edges

Ready to attack thick flesh,

Grinding and choking,

Steely, fiery weaponry

Ready to go after fresh blood,

Yelling avidly,

Violent, bloodthirsty blades

Obsessed with fresh, red blood,

Armour and an arsenal for warriors,

Quivers and bows,

Clothing for fortune-telling.

The blacksmith’s name was

The old man Kytai Bakhsylan⁵⁶

With gloomy thoughts and an evil disposition

He was settled to be the forefather

Of three malicious tribes.

At the passage to the three worlds

On a hideous hill

Icy Muus Sorun the mound ⁵⁷

Of awful reputation

With bumps in three places,

And a hole on its top,

As if from the Ajarai tribe of the Under World

From its divided eight kins,

A young mare of two years

Was brought and slaughtered there

As it was walking proudly

On the white snow,

And it fell on its side

Its blood gushing

Crimson red on the snow.

The flames in the furnace of Kytai Bakhsylan

Were dancing with red fire…

The iron surface of his anvil

Was as solid as the forehead

Of a six-year-old bull

Struck on its head as it was

Staggering along the alaas

And it fell on its knees…

His gleaming anvil

Was clanking and clinking

From the hammer blows,

The famous noisy and deadly bellows

Of Ketteny blacksmith,⁵⁸

Were made of the hairy skins

Of forty-four stallions’ backs.

His black bloodthirsty sledgehammer

Was like a huge post

Of a wealthy house,

His pincers were shrieking,

His file was squealing,

Like his wife

Fire-Uot Kyndyalana⁵⁹

Of the tribe Uogan Khan,⁶⁰

With whom he shared his bed,

So they were settled at the far side

Of the hazardous Middle World

To be the source of the

Three vengeful clans…

Straight to the east if you go, Where the radiant white sky becomes as soft As suede and hangs down smoothly, Where the sky borders the earth…

The master of humans,

The best of the Upper World,

The one who was of the wisest,

Who had ink made of eagle blood,

A pen made of an eagle feather,

The one who had records made of stone

From that very time

When the Motherland was created,

The bow-legged,

One-kharis-bearded,⁶¹

Old man Serken Sehen⁶²

Was settled here to be a fortune-teller,

To predict the future,

To be the eyes to see

And support the thirty-five tribes of

The Middle World,

Where people are born and die,

Where generations come and go;

The light-footed and smart girl

Sepjigirei Magan⁶³

Became his maid.

They were settled

In the impenetrable woods,

Deep in the belly of the earth

Out of the hollow stump,

Like the horn of a dry cow,

Smoke rose, twisting.

They were settled

On the northern side

Of the fiery ocean,

Swirling and bottomless,

Covered with icy sludge of

The flowing red sand,

With the infuriating wind,

With the bellowing snow,

With the rising sun,

With the trees falling down.

In the Middle World they were settled

To glorify the people

Of the thirty-five tribes

Of a warm and playful disposition,

Who are front-faced, two-legged,

Whose heads can swivel,

Whose joints are flexible.

The eldest son of Ulutuyar Uluu Toyon

The old man Aan Ukhan,

The forefather

Of the kin of Uogan,

Became the spirit of fire in their hearths.

He was named Khatan Temerieh,

His breath was a blue flame,

He had a steel-grey horse,

His character was straight as an arrow,

His beard and hair were frizzled,

His walking stick was thick,

His steel was as big as a haystack

Covered with snow,

His flint was as large as a bull calf.

They say, Jedeh Bakhsila,

The spirit of the dwelling,

And Nadjy Niankha,

The dirty and stinking

Spirit of the cattle-shed,

Were settled together with them.

Since that time

In the inhabited Middle World

Sakha man who was striving

For good luck and happiness

Built his yurt,⁶⁴

Lit a fire in his hearth.

Then, he welcomed them,

Praising their good names,

Treating them with kumis,

And bowed his head to them.

The old man Ediget Botur,

Whose black face

Was red-tinged,

Whose body

Was strong and stout,

Whose beard

Was like green algae,

With a birch-bark bucket

On his back for fish,

With a landing net in his hand,

Dwelt on salty soil.

His yard was covered with ice,

He was settled

In the inhabited Middle World

To increase the numerous stocks of fish,

With yellow scales, sharp fins,

Never running out

Like the current

Of a powerful river.

Kuragachy Surik, Kuralai Bergen,

Baai Barilakh,

Extremely generous,

Nicknamed Baai Bayanai,⁶⁵

Was settled in the inhabited Middle World

To breed birds and animals

In countless numbers.

Since that time,

A front-faced man,

A man on two unsteady legs,

Bowing low to him,

Kneeling in front of him, said:

‘My great man!

I am begging to drive

Those who swim in the water,

Those who have sharp teeth,

Straight into my trap,

Let them appear in front of me,

Let me shoot them.’

Mother Khotun Ekhsit Ejen⁶⁶

Was settled there

To become the spirit of the dwelling,

To protect the posterity of those

Who are front-faced and two-legged,

Who have the reins on their backs,

To strengthen the family of Kun-Aiyy,

To bless the relatives of Aiyy-Khan.

She was settled at the top

Of the three restless Worlds,

On the changeable side

Of the bloodthirsty eastern sky,

To sit and turn

Like a wood-grouse

With a speckled breast,

Looking around attentively.

Since that time,

They had life-long prosperous dwellings.

They started their progeny,

Having put on their best clothes,

Thinking: ‘Our Mother Ekhsit Khotun

Herself is coming for us’,

Beaming and laughing with joy,

Caressing their tender silver cheeks⁶⁷

With their generous and warm hands…

If the thirty-five mischievous

And lively tribes

With belts fastened around their waists,

Who settled in the Middle World,

Step onto the thick salt marsh

Abundant with delicious cream,

Tread on the yellow ilgeh

Abundant with delicious butter,

They will become the Urankhai.

They will grow up

To be famous people,

They will be fair-faced Sakha.

Nelbeng Aiyyhyt, Neleghelji-Kuo,

Dear Aiyyhyt Khan Khotun,⁶⁸

Was destined to bless and help them.

The copper surface of the Earth,

Was decorated with yellow chechir,

They imbued scissors

With the soul of a girl,

They imbued a bow

With the soul of a boy

So that the tribes would prosper from

The overwhelming wealth,

The overabundance

Of the blessed Middle World,

The multitude of cattle

On the double yellow surface,

On the lower smooth side

Of the blissful eastern sky…

Since the time

They dwelt in the Middle World,

They built fences for cattle,

Honoured Aiyyhyt Khan Khotun,

With a choron⁶⁹ of kumis⁷⁰

With young birch trees blessing her…

I should add some further detail to the story:

A noble woman, Khotun Aan-Alakhchyn⁷¹ –

White⁷² Mankhalyn was her name –

Was destined to become the mother

Of the spirits of grass and trees,

So she settled in the Middle World.

She had free will,

A gentle nature,

An honest heart.

Her breasts were ample

Like the biggest vessels

Full of kumis;

She came to this world wearing

On her white shoulders

A coat made of the best lynx fur.

Her high fur hat

Made of three sable skins

Was worn on her head, tossed back,

As if she were singing.

She was destined to create

The blessed surface

Of the Primordial Motherland,

Its bright and smooth yellow expanse.

The great lively folk

Of the Middle World

Respected to her name,

Bowed to her image,

Begged for her blessings

When the day of parting

With their native land came,

To defend their homeland from enemies

From the Under and Upper Worlds.

They swore this oath to the supreme deities:

If someone from the Under or Upper tribes

Shakes the vast space

Of the wide resonant sky,

If someone tramples under his fiery feet

He shall receive the severest sentence

Of the great court.

If someone touches the axis

Of the three restless Worlds,

Where the three superior tribes were born,

Even if he is cunning and sly,

Even if he was born in the Upper World,

Even if he was conceived in the Under World,

He should be struck by an arrow,

He should be stopped,

He should be caught and tied.

They swore a solemn oath

To all supreme deities

That each crime and each fault

Would be punished…

On the smooth surface

Of the three-layered

Milky-white high sky,

On its warm and soft soil

The wife of the old man Urung-Aar Toyon

Whose hair was grey,

Whose breath was hot,

Who had a fur hat made with three sable skins,

The kindest Ajynga-Sier Khotun

Whose fair face was beaming

Like the rays of the setting sun,

Whose fair face was radiant

Like the rays of the rising sun,

Blinking her eyes, smiling sweetly,

Looking contented, gave birth to a child

Ahead of its due time.

The baby rolled out

From his mother’s womb,

As though he was made of solid stone.

He was full of wild energy

And spoiling for a fight,

Created chaos everywhere.

As he fell to the ground

Giggling and shouting:

‘You, black cheats

And bloody dogs,

You, ill-natured people, bearing malice,

You have flown at the three worlds like insects,

Your nobleness, your highness!

Who do you want to intimidate?

By your menacing words

And mean actions?

I was born here

To pulverize your fiery edicts

Like water…

I will smash to pieces

The greedy evil tribes

And stamp them out of existence,

I will tear down their dwellings,

I will extinguish the fire in their hearths,

I will throw into the flames

The tribe of the Sun,

I will scatter their ashes.

You have grown too fat and too rich

Depriving a horseman of his whip.

You have all become self-indulgent

Depriving a passer-by of his stick.

I will show you what it is

To be so fat and so greedy…

You will see it,

When I make the Upper World scream;

You will hear it,

When I make the Under World breathless;

You will know it,

When I make the Middle World shout!’

As soon as he threatened,

Kicking and shaking his fist,

The bottom of the hostile

Eluu Cherkechekh cringed

And cried out in fear.

The southern swirling sky wriggled

Like a pike on a frying pan

And cried out,

Shedding bloody tears.

The restless Middle World

Rocked at its centre,

Swayed along the edges,

Uttered shrill cries

Like a proud and angry young girl,

Sobbing with watery blood…

When the grand people

And the greatest lords

Of the Under World,

The best ones and the noblest men

Of the Upper World,

Elders of the three kins,

With high ranks

Heard the child, they shouted:

‘Art-tatai, fellows!

Alaata, friends?!

What abusive words

This new-born child has uttered!

What a sharp tongue he has!

What a naughty child with a nasty temper

And evil thoughts have been born!

He was conceived by the grandest

Urung-Aar Toyon,

He was born of the clever

Ajynga-Sier Khotun,

How come he is such a wretch?!!

Let it be an order of Odun Khan,

Let it be an edict of Genghis Khan,

Let it be a decision by Jilga Toyon!

It is not enough what we know!

It is not enough what we see!

Let the Supreme Deities know,

Let the greatest ones see.’

The bravest men

Of the clamorous tribe

From the swirling southern sky,

Bristly men

Of a sharp-toothed tribe

From the terrible Under World said:

‘If we speak so about

The child of the honoured family

With heavy breath

And dark thoughts,

They will take revenge…

If the destiny of the Odun Khan differs

From the great fiery edict,

Then we will not step aside

And we will do what we want.’

So saying, the evil tribes of Ajarais

Winked at each other.

Having heard these words, the Odun Khan,

Genghis Khan, and Jilga Toyon

Ordered six tender Aiyy udagans,

Who were fortune-tellers

Of the high white sky,

Who were patronesses

Of the eight-layered sky,

To tie up the boy and send him down

To the three fortune-telling cradles,

To determine his future fate…

As soon as the six tender Aiyy udagans

Lashed the powerful kicking boy

With a droning bewitching rope;

As soon as their invocation was over,

At that very moment

A terrible sound was heard

As if a block of stone had exploded.

A three-layered ceiling and silver beams

Were spun around by the sound,

A six-layered stone floor

Was cracked,

Eighty-eight thick posts

Were shaken,

Ninety-nine gigantic supports

Became loose.

From the Upper World

Rain and snow

Fell into the Under World

As if half the sky had collapsed,

As if half the clouds had burst.

A heavy blizzard wailed,

Nine furious whirlwinds

Began to spin –

Howling like black evil spirits.

The earth stood on end as does hair,

Great grief came down,

Burning heat came down…

Low black clouds scattered in the sky,

Descended to the three nether worlds…

Under the swirling edge

Of the northern dangerous sky

The maw of the abyss

Gaped and swallowed

Nine hills, white and black.

Weeping bitterly, the new-born baby

Galloped on all fours

Along the dangerous passage

With eight ledges

And the well-fed little baby

Went down wailing, head first,

Into the mouth of the abyss,

Which was screaming

Like a hysterical woman,

Which was oozing pus in seven places.

He passed through the tight throat

Of the grasping Khan Jalystyma⁷³ passage

Where the knee-caps of toyons

Are used in fortune-telling,

Where the neck bones of khotuns

Are used for sacrifice,⁷⁴

Where the stairs are covered

With clotted blood,

And fell down into its dissolving stomach

On the fiery surface

Of the sharp top

Of the greedy evil spirit’s cape.

There were three iron cradles of fate

Bouncing up and down

Like grilled minnows.

On the roots of three iron spruces,

Which were so interlaced

They were gnawing at each other

Like hungry brown bears.

Having reached the bottom,

The little baby flopped down

On one of the three iron cradles –

The cradle of death.

The malicious spirit of death,

Eluu Cherkechekh,⁷⁵

Lay screaming and laughing shrilly…

Suddenly, a daughter of Abaahy,

The old woman Begeluken,

Whose ugly face

Was like a piece of raw meat,

Whose hair was dishevelled,

Whose fingers were like claws,

Dodgy, cunning and insidious,

Who had three humps

And blood clots in her mouth,

Came tearing along

And ran up to the cradle,

Rocking it to and fro,

Bent over it and conjured…

THE SONG OF HUMP-BACKED BEGELUKEN

‘Ihiligim-tahiligim…

Edenigim-kudanigim…⁷⁶

Let the baby weep,

Who is in my hand!

Let him stop weeping

Before dawn.

Let his sharp savage claws grow!

Let strength be absorbed by him

When the sun rises,

Let insatiable bloodlust

Be instilled into him

To get rid of those

Who have shadows,

To destroy those

Who walk in darkness!

Edenigim-kudanigim…

Ihiligim-tahiligim…

May you have a tough skin

Which cannot be torn,

May you have strong muscles

Which cannot weaken,

May you have hard bones

Which cannot be broken,

May you have blood

Which nobody can shed,

May you easily cut

Both the good and bad

In the Under and Upper Worlds…

Fracture the backbones of those

Who have the reins on their backs,

Who belong to the Kun-Erken kin,

Let them vanish forever!

Egelim-kuogalim…

Ihilim-tahilim…

Knock down the mischievous and unruly

Urankhai-Sakha,

Who have belts around their waists.

Throw them face down,

Reduce them to dust,

Destroy their homes!

Oh yes, I am bending low,

Oh yes, I am going around…

Treading on the evil tribes,

Ripping out their hearts and lungs,

Tongues and hard penises.

Make this possible for me, old woman!

Alaatan-ulaatan…

Aidanym-kuidanyn…

Oh yes, I am talking a lot…

Oh yes, I am making much noise…

Kill the father of the Under World,

Wipe off their mother

From the surface of the earth,

Rip out their hearts,

Vocal and spinal cords.

Give them to me,

To thank me for rocking your cradle!

I am breathing with difficulty

Because of hunger,

I am slowly dying

Because I have eaten

All the beetles and frogs…

Oh, sweet baby in my hands,

Oh, gurgling baby in my palms…

Emine-tuomuium, emine-tuomuium!’

As soon as she had finished her song

And her sounds

In the Under World, in the evil land,

The lords of the Upper World,

Honourable men of this world,

Fathers of the Under World,

The oldest men said:

‘It seems that there was born

A great warrior

Who could never be oppressed…

His fortune-telling cradle

Is not good either,

He seems to be rather unlucky;

He would disturb the sky for sure,

He would unfasten its lock,

He would destroy the Under World,

He would cause alarm,

He would shake and excite

The Middle World for sure…

He would rip the shiny locks rope

Connecting the three Worlds,

He would cause incalculable calamity…

The oldest men used to say:

Warrior Kulut the Best

With evil thoughts and a bad temper,

Khan Sabydal, the hero,

Who would ruin skies and earth,

Ehekh Kharbir, Erken the Hero,⁷⁷

A three-year-old boy,

Causing revenge and death,

Would be born

At the junction of centuries.

Has that child been born already?!

It must be him, none else…

We should frustrate him, by any means!’

After that they took counsel,

Put their heads together

And tied the child tightly

With a fiery bewitching rope

With ninety-nine knots

To an eight-sided magic post,

Which was on a four-layered

Unsteady iron mountain,

Which had no pillars

In the layered white sky,

Which was not fastened

To the white clay of the earth.

From the bottom of the Under World

Early dew and dense fog came up,

Then they put it under

An invisible lock and key

As big as a six-year-old stallion’s head

Covered with red copper, they say…

‘If a great storm blows up

From the Upper World,

He will cause great troubles,

If the cold blows heavily from the Under World,

He will cause double disasters,

If the fresh air blows

From the side of the Middle World,

It will distress and trouble life.’

So they brought three deadly warriors

And put them on three sides –

To prevent the upper side

From great tempests blowing up,

To restrain the cold

From the lower side,

To screen the other side

From misfortunes.

These were three

Clumsy death heroes

To guard and protect…

If, in the Upper World,

A major problem erupts,

If, in the Under World,

A sudden commotion takes place,

If, in the Middle World,

A misfortune happens,

Only then will Genghis Khan order,

Will the Odun Khan decide,

Will Jilga Toyon instruct

These three warriors of death

To stop the heroes

Who shake the shiny locks

Of the three Worlds,

Increasing disasters.

That was an edict of the great fiery court…

The deities of the heavens

Who had set up the Middle World

With its rising sun

And its trees falling down,

Who had installed countless wealth,

Happiness and immortal life,

Settled in here

Sakha Saaryn Toyon and Sabyia Baai Khotun⁷⁸

From the tribe of Kun-Aiyy,

With the reins on their backs,

Who were relatives of Aiyy-Khan.

Who were destined to create

Three dear Sakha,

Who were destined to give birth

To four Sakha,

Who were destined to multiply

Dear Urankhai Sakha.

If one walked towards the east,

Where the low white sky

As soft as a chamois cloth

Hangs with its thrums⁷⁹ down,

Where the edge of Mother Earth,

Wet with rain, curves upwards

Like a ski made from a solid tree,

There is a wonderful land,

Nine-brimmed, nine-rimmed,

With wide, green fields,

Knowing neither snow nor frost;

Its trees never fade,

Its sun always shines,

Winter never comes,

It is always summer here.

If one looked

At this wonderful land

Covered with a blue haze,

In its rich, wide spaciousness

Full of joy and happiness,

There are countless sandpipers,

A lot of ducks that never fly away,

Plenty of turtle-doves

That never cease cooing,

In the land of milk and cream,

Which gets richer and richer,

Nine seleh-ropes are tied,⁸⁰

Yellow chechir – a row of birch trees

Is lined up

As vast as eight dense forests.

In a tuhulgeh,⁸¹ a place for a feast,

As deep and wide as a lake,

There are curdy bogs

Up to the head of a fattened horse,

There is milky salt-marsh

Up to the knees of a racehorse.

Sabyia Baai Khotun

And Sakha Saaryn Toyon

Were settled here,

In the copper nest of Mother Earth,

Eight-brimmed, eight-rimmed,

Restless and worried,

Where mud and snow do not remain,

In its golden womb the bright sun rests,

On its light navel and high range,

On its swollen fat and thrown-back neck,

On the very centre of the earth,

On the very top of the sky

A marvellous,

Magnificent dwelling was built.

It had thirty tie-beams,

Nine narrow windows

To let in the rays of the sun,

It occupied a place measuring nine bylas.⁸²

This incomparable dwelling was sparkling,

Inviting from a great distance…

Ordered to create

Three kins of Sakha

Destined to give birth

To four kins of Sakha,

Driven by desire,

Overwhelmed by passion

Young sweethearts

Looked into each other’s eyes,

Took a fancy to each other.

Their blood began to boil,

They opened the door

To their large dwelling

Hand in hand –

Who can resist such intense desire?

A passion to love threw them into bed,

Thinking it would be a tradition

Of the three kins of Sakha,

They pulled over themselves

The blanket made with three sable skins,

They shook up pillows made of lynx skins,

Tore off their clothes with longing fingers;

The adornment of the breast was unfastened,

The adornment of the hips was unbuttoned,

The strings of her pants were torn off…

The call of Aiyyhyt was overwhelming,

The impatient lovers began to embrace,

The passion of Ekhsit was really very strong;

They kissed ardently, entwined playfully,

They caressed each other eagerly

Until they became tired…

Then, the sweet woman’s body

Trembled intensely

Because of the love and passion

Below her belly,

In that place

Where a man becomes a man

As big as a ladle,

The souls of a boy and a girl

Began to pulsate in her womb…

Sabyia Baai Khotun,

The foremother of Sakha

Proudly celebrated her pregnancy:

In a day

She was in her first month;

In two days

She was in her second month;

In three days

She was in her third month;

In four days

She was in her fourth month;

In her fifth month

She began to waddle;

In her sixth month

She walked slowly in a haphazad way

In her seventh month

Her face lost its colour;

In her eighth month

She felt pain in her body;

In her ninth month

She walked with a crook;

In her tenth month

The time came to give birth.

…a rich beaver hat, the silver trimming of which Shone in the white sun; Red decoration on top of it gleamed as a pretty pattern. She used to wear it proudly when she was a girl…

The poor woman started to shout out

Because of the intolerable,

Acute pain in her loins.

Pangs of childbirth

Made her call upon Aiyyhyt,

Interminable pain

Made her appeal to Ejen Ekhsit,

She stared at her husband

With his thick black moustache…

Unable to endure the pain

She shed a few tears,

Her white sun became dim,

She took a deep breath,

Thinking the day of her death

Had come.

She began to reflect on her life,

Thinking the day of her passing

Had come.

She made her last will…

THE SONG OF SABYIA BAAI KHOTUN

‘Ai-aibyn! Yi-yibyn!

Abytaibyn-tatappyn!

What a terrible pain lower down in my belly…

What acute pain in my loins there is…

My toyon, my friend

With a black moustache!

I was glad to have my home,

My own hearth,

I was glad to give birth to a child,

I was glad to breed cattle

In my primordial land

Full of copper-yellow ilgeh.⁸³

But now my white sun

Is dimmed, my heart is broken,

You are staying but I am leaving you…

Oh, my poor belly…

Oh, my loins…

My two lower ribs hurt so badly…

Nevertheless, we are destined

To live in the Middle World,

To be happy,

Not to die and vanish,

That is why

I am asking you to leave quickly,

And go straight to the east.

There will be three milky-white barrows,

On top of them

You will see a white, flexible birch tree

With two branches,

With green quivering leaves…

Pull it out by breaking its roots and branches,

Bring it here, make a crossbeam,

Place it in front of me…

I had a dream in which I cast lots…

Make a cradle at once!

We will be a happy people.

Make a hollow in the cradle at once!

Ai-aibyn! Yi-yibyn!

Abytaibyn-tatappyn!’

Saying so, she sat panting and weeping…

The poor woman cried out:

‘Have you heard me or not?’

The man turning to her said:

‘Have you spoken or not?’

It did not take much time,

Was he away for a long time?

Did he spend much time away?

Soon returning,

He started to work furiously.

Straining and sweating,

Making great efforts,

He stuck the crossbeam

Higher than his knees,

He made a cradle,

Puffing, and panting

And he toiled at making its grooves…

He dashed out of the door,

Grasped an armful of hay,

Spread it here and there under his wife…

Thinking it would be the right thing to do

For the propagation of three Sakha,

Throwing open her white and black blanket.

He sat down the foremother of Sakha,

Sabyia Baai Khotun,

He took eight bowls

Decorated with carvings,

Used for greetings,

He filled them with yellow butter,

Placed them at the head of the bed

Blessing their long, happy future…

He brought a long lynx coat,

Spread it on the floor

To greet Nelben Aiyyhyt, Nelegeldjin Ekhsit,

To engage the former,

To make the steps of the latter easy,

To look at them warmly;

Sparkling and clinking

As if they were alive,

Neck adornments were brought.

He laid them out to glitter in the sun,

Front and back adornments interlaced,

With pendants and plates

Twinkling brightly!

He brought a rich beaver hat,

The silver trimming of which

Shone in the white sun;

Red decoration on top of it

Gleamed as a pretty pattern.

She used to wear it proudly

When she was a girl.

He placed all these things in front of her.

After that Sabyia Baai Khotun,

Destined to be the foremother of Sakha,

Sat stroking her silvery cheeks

With her two plump hands,

With her long fingers looking like

Ten she-ermines with their heads down.

Letting her long, eight-bylas-long braid down,

Her pearly teeth shining,

She began to sing softly…

THE SONG OF SABYIA BAAI KHOTUN

‘Jeh-buo! Jeh-buo!

Spirit of the dwelling, Jedeh Bakhsila,

Living on the main post of my house!

You have removed

Your thick non-skid shield...

Spirit of my eight-rimmed,

Eight-brimmed, restless,

Full of trouble Primordial Mother Earth

Aan-Alakhchyn, the White Manghalyn

With a copper cane,

Ready to protect everybody,

My dear honourable grandmother!

You have loosened your grip for me…

If I am destined to be a Sakha,

Spread out wide my smooth path,

My fast horse with mane and tail!

The dazzling white spring sun glitters

Like the blade of a big batas,

The radial white winter sun glitters

Like the edge of a thin batas,

A calm summer is coming,

Tender green shoots are appearing,

Sedge, higher than

A three-year-old bull calf,

Does not fade away,

Thin sedge as high as

A four-year-old shank mare

Does not turn yellow,

A lake of kumis higher than

A brown foal fed till autumn

Rises boisterously in this land

Of joy and happiness.

My Nelegeldjin Ekhsit,

My Nelbeng Aiyyhyt

Has become an Ejen Ekhsit –

A goddess for young women,

Has become an Akhtar Aiyyhyt –

A goddess for elderly women!

It is high time for me,

For the Urankhai Sakha

To part the bone

To beget a child in my own house.

At dawn of the vast blue sky,

Look at my fence,

Glance at my farmyard

And become a beautiful mare

Of the tremendous sky,

With firm muscles, a grey thigh

And opalescent brown spots

Above its front legs,

With large spots on its shoulder,

With a notched pattern on its croup,

With sacred marks

On its solid and massive ribs,

With a spotted nostril

And a good appearance

To welcome Ejen Aiyy.⁸⁴

Appear, show yourself to me,

Caress me with your gifted hand!

Look at my vast bed,

At my generous gifts

Help me!

Talk to me

From the head of my bed,

Bless me

From the foot of my bed,

Take me onto your soft knees!

I plead with you for a boy

With a frightful and stubborn temper,

I plead with you for a girl

With a quick and angry temper!

Aikhal-michil!

Tell me clearly in Sakha

That you give me your blessing!

Treat me as a human being!

Treat yourself to my yellow ilgeh!

Abitaibyn-tatappyn!

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.

I am giving you my blessings!

Urui-aikhal!

For you to be the foremother

Of many happy generations.

I am stroking your thigh

To relieve your pains,

You will increase your wealth

During the next nine centuries,

You will make your home famous

During eight centuries.

Hush, my child,

I have told you your future!

Hush, I have blessed your life, urui-aikhal!’

As soon as she had finished,

The foremother of the Sakha,

Sabyia Baai Khotun, cried out loud

Like a fidgety snipe.

As soon as she strained herself,

Groaning and screaming,

A boy with a strong and frightful temper

Arrived quickly

Out of her sacred thick womb.

A boy quite contrary –

One could not dream

Even in one’s worst nightmare,

Of such an amazingly alert baby.

He was as big as a well-fed nine-year-old boy.

His long and wavy hair

Hung over his shoulders,

The size of an eight-year-old boy

Of a well-to-do couple,

Obstinate that no one ever expected

Hot-tempered like a foal,

He plopped down on his back and began to cry.

Afterwards, the dear baby

Turned his head over

Like a pike

Flung upside down onto the ice,

Fell loudly on the floor.

Jumping hurriedly to his feet

As hard as a lump of stone,

Strode noisily to the door,

About to run away…

The stone crossbeams

Of the eight-layered floor

Of the large, spacious house

Shook and bulged,

The eighty posts that never trembled

Moved and shuddered,

The ninety supports that never vibrated

Moved up and down,

The high, thick ceiling

Heaved apart by a distance of four fists,

The smooth, strong floor

Dropped by a distance of six fists.

The sired father,

Stood attentively,

Grasped the boy

Like a fierce, wild bear,

Overpowering the boy with his weight,

Wound the boy’s curly,

Shoulder-length golden hair

Round his strong hand,

Wrapped up the boy

As fidgety as a foal in the fell

Of a six-year-old horse

And tied him firmly

With a horse-hair rope.

‘Am I the kind of man

Who would let my baby run away?’

He said to himself boastfully.

Then he added:

‘Now I have become a Sakha.

I have a son to inherit from me.

I have become a father.’

He stood, guarding and looking at his wife –

Next to her there was such a sweet girl

Of a never-before-seen beauty,

With a vivid and hot temper,

Who was flapping about,

Crying loudly,

As if saying that

She had come into this world

To bloom and flourish…

Sabyia Baai Khotun,

The foremother of Sakha,

Having turned blue

From the pain and despair,

Opened her eyes,

Recovered her breath,

Then tenderly took

Her crying girl

In her soft silver hands…

Ejen Ekhsit for young women,

Akhtar Aiyyhyt for elderly women,

Nelegeldjin Ekhsit, Nelbeng Aiyyhyt

Walked up to her calmly,

Her long hair fluttering in the air

Like the mane

Of a mare in the meadow,

Her head raised high

Like a mare’s in the field.

She wiped away the sweat,

Sparkling like mica,

Off her forehead,

With her ten long, white fingers

Looking like ten she-ermines,

With their heads down.

Then she opened her mouth

To utter some wonderful words –

The blessing words

Of Akhtar Aiyyhyt.

AKHTAR AIYYHYT’S BLESSING

‘Che-duo! Chel baraan!

May your urui-michil be constant forever,

May it flourish during nine centuries…

May your aikhal-michil not fade away,

May it be continuous

During eight centuries…

May your fortune be good,

May your future be happy

During seven centuries…

Che-duo! Chel baraan!

I have told your fortune,

I have foreseen your destiny…

May you have three Sakha

To propagate and to bear,

May you have four Sakha

To increase your tribe…

May you have a trouble-free destiny

For many centuries,

May Odun Khan bless you…

If 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 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 upset,

My children and descendants

Will not be happy in my cosy house.’

Thinking so,

Sabyia Baai Khotun invited

Among her remote and close neighbours

Twelve voluble,

Fair-faced girls,

Stepping lightly and proudly,

Looking like she-cranes.

She brought them with her into

The largest uraha⁸⁹

With a tethering post.

They lit a sacred fire,

Sat on black and white mats,

Brought a bowl

With eight-cogged patterns

And poured yellow butter into it

To meet Ejen Ekhsit,

To greet Akhtar Aiyyhyt,

To see Aiyyhyt off…

It was festive and noisy…

THE BLESSING OF AIYYHYT’S DEPARTURE

‘Che-duo! Chel baraan!

Urui-aikhal…Urui-michil…

Ejen Ekhsit for young women,

Akhtar Aiyyhyt for elderly women,

Nelegeldjin Ekhsit, Nelbeng Aiyyhyt!

Drop in at our dwelling, our hearth,

Our golden nest

In the coming years,

To support and to bless!

Do not be mean-spirited

With our descendants,

Do not be uninterested

In our children

In the coming years!

Che-duo! Chel baraan!

Narin-naskil… Kugel-nuskhal…

Let my sacred fertile womb

Soak up the goodness

Of Mother Ekhsit!

Let it be filled with the miraculous spirit

Of Mother Aiyyhyt!

Let my large house

Be filled with noisy babies!

Let my light-filled dwelling

Be full of well-fed children!

Che-duo! Chel baraan! Kulim-michil!

Smiling Ejen Ekhsit

For young women

Let us see you off!

Laughing Akhtar Aiyyhyt

For elderly women

Let us see you off!

Urui-aikhal! Urui-tuskul!

Ejen Ekhsit seems to have charmed us,

Does she not?

Ha-ha! Ha-ha!’

Shedding tears of joy

They giggled and laughed,

Scooping yellow butter from a bowl

And covering their faces with it...⁹⁰

After that they gathered all their relatives,

Young and old.

In front of the fire,

Bowls were put in a row,

They brought down a white horse

On its right side,

They slaughtered a brown horse

Where the road begins,

They led black and white racehorses in,

Struck their foreheads

And plunged their knives into their necks…

To be known everywhere

They played knucklebones

Made of the bones of heavy horses.

They feasted on fat meat,

They refreshed their throats

With strong kumis,

They dispelled their sadness

With fresh kumis,

They sat, pleased,

Picking and cleaning their teeth

With a soft bone…

Khotuns and toyons hiccupped

From eating too much food,

Girls and boys choked

From drinking too much kumis.

Sakha Saaryn Toyon was singled out

To procreate three kins of Sakha,

Destined to beget four kins of Sakha,

Considered himself

To be superior to all others,

A bow-string taller

Than the rest of the people.

He spoke and thought

That he was more important

Than all the other Urankhais…

‘If a cold wind blows

From the high swirling sky

On my honoured name,

On my established reputation

I shall stop it.’

For this purpose

He ordered that mittens be sewn

From the best wolf skin,

The size of a leather bag.

He hung them like a balloon

On his high peg

With three branches…

‘If the chilly draught of death comes

From the disastrous Middle World

I shall block it.’

For this purpose

He ordered that

A sable-skin coat be sewn,

And he hung it on a tree…

‘If hard frost blows in

From the awful Under World,

The world of the Ajarai kin,

I shall tread on it.’

For this purpose

He ordered that boots be sewn

From the best bear paws.

He spread them on his latticed shelf…

Thus, thirty-five tribes

Of Urankhai Sakha,

Front-faced, straight-nosed,

Cheerful and playful,

Settled in the steady Middle World…

Can an olonkho not be exaggerated?!

A few days later,

The child they created,

Mighty and strong

With a grey horse

And a bow in his hands,

Warrior Kun Jiribineh,

Was able to leave the house.

Fair-faced Tuyarima Kuo

With the chestnut ambler

Was able to use the scissors properly…

Before long

The head of their stout-hearted son

Was seen above

The low branch of a big larch:

Five-bylas large

His fine waist became,

Six-bylas large

His broad shoulders became,

His forearms and shins

Resembled a larch tree trunk

Stripped of its bark ...

Looking at the sun

He covers it with his back,

Looking at the moon

He screens it with his hand.

He became the best man,

The bravest warrior;

His eyes, round like a ring,

Looked full of hostility,

His piercing eyes

Became bloodshot.

He craved fighting,

He played stretching his muscles,

He strolled backwards and forwards

Deep in thought:

‘If only someone would come…

Have the tribes of the devil,

The kin of Ajarais,

Not heard of my famous name,

And the rumours about me yet?!

What a lust I have for fighting!

How eager I am!

How I wish

To grip and cut their thick skins!

How I wish

To knock them down and beat

Their backs until the tendons snap.

How I wish

To rip out their hearts

With my bloody hands!

When will the three-spiked

Strongest heroes from above,

When will the six-spiked

Bravest heroes from below

Come and cut my skin

And make me bleed

To quench my fury?!’

He cried out, looking up,

He bellowed, looking down.

Three days later,

As three beams of sunlight,

The sharp, shining fire

Of the radiant white sun,

Just started to rise,

As the low edge

Of the western double sky,

Glittering like glassy silver,

Just started to dawn,

Nine wild whirlwinds sprang up.

A bear fur with the paws

And the head

Was torn to pieces

By this whirlwind.

The storm sprang up,

Clouds of dust swirled up,

Nine vertical white skies

Rocked like water

In a birch-bark bucket,

White clouds gathered,

Black clouds clustered round,

Dark-grey clouds came together…

Nothing was seen

In the white sky.

The black stormy wind

Of the sky

Yowled and growled,

Like the guffaw

Of the ilbis’s daughter,

The spirit of war,

Like the nicker

Of the ohol son,

The spirit of discord.

The tempest rose,

The ground could not be seen.

Has the base

Of the Under World cracked?

Has the crown

Of the Middle World been punched?

Has the axis of the Upper World broken?

Four rumbling thunderbolts rolled in,

Four bright flashes of lightning struck.

Thick fog came down so that even a shadow

Could not be seen…

A rain of stones

As big as a four-year-old cow,

A hail of stones

As big as a three-year-old bull-calf,

Banging and rolling,

Fell like an icy storm

Upon the dazzling land

Saidaryky Ebeh Khotun,⁹¹

Where hoar frost was never seen,

Where the summer was year-round.

A heavy snowfall

Began to swirl and whistle,

Prickling thin ice

Began to circle and clink…

The loud, deafening sound

Would have torn to pieces

A bear skin with the paws and the head,

Would have shaken

Three grinning nether worlds,

Would have split the sky

And made the earth yawn.

That spacious, red and rosy

Eight-rimmed, eight-brimmed

Uneven and restless

Primordial Motherland

Heaved like water

In a birch-bark bucket.

Cowards rushed to the cattle shed,

The best of them hid in the barn…

Mighty and vigorous

Brave Kun Jiribineh

With the grey horse

Exclaimed joyfully:

‘How long I have been waiting for you,

My children, my sons-in-law!

Have you come down

From above to see me

Because of my famous name,

Because of my glorious reputation;

Or have you come

From below?!

We will play

Like a stallion and mare,

Interlocking our arms and legs,

Like the branches

Of a flexible willow.’

Saying so, he jumped up,

Looked around,

Turning hither and thither…

There he saw a man

On the low edge

Of the western golden sky,

On the opposite side

Of his Mother Earth,

On the top of a copper sky

With eighty-eight pillars:

The man was wearing

A coat made of demon’s skin,

Which reached down

To the middle of his legs,

A lion-hide tie was tightly wrapped

Around his throat,

He wore a flat, iron hat,

On which he put a deer cap inside out,

Looking like nine eagle nests,

Brims upwards,

And he wore six iron armours.

He moved his ugly face up and down,

Looking like a cave

In a river bank.

He stared blankly

With his bloodshot eyes,

Looking like undercooked fish soup.

His eye sockets

Were like cleft rocks.

He opened wide his narrow mouth,

Looking like a deep ravine

In the Under World.

He stuck out his tongue,

Looking like

A seven-and-a-half-bylas-long

Wet lizard,⁹²

And licked his mighty neck…

He muttered indistinctly

As if worried about something,

He smiled disgustingly,

He grinned repulsively,

He began to resound so much

So that the earth trembled,

The snowstorm swirled,

The sky shook,

The dense forest echoed…

Under the swirling edge Of the northern dangerous sky The maw of the abyss gaped…

THE DEMON’S SONG

‘Aar-jali!

Alatigar emine-tuomui!

Sakha Saaryn Toyon,

The forefather

Of the Aiyy-Khan kin,

With the reins on their backs;

Sabyia Baai Khotun,

The foremother

Of the Kun-Erken tribes,

The front-faced, two-legged,

With the reins on their necks;

Your daughter,

Fair-faced Tuyarima Kuo

With the chestnut ambler,

Whose brother is Kun Jiribineh

With the grey horse –

She was destined for me

When she was three,

She was intended for me

When she was six,

My little one, my sweet,

Thinking I would kiss

Her round, fair face,

Thinking I would enjoy and caress

Her wonderful body

That precious part

That glimmers through her pants,

Imagining that she grew impatient

Waiting for me,

Thinking she was dizzy

With excitement

At the thought of my arrival,

From far, far away,

At last I have come…

Thinking the son of the Upper World,

The good man Kytygyras Baranchai

The Swiftfoot⁹³

Would snatch her and steal her,

I have come earlier

So as not to get exhausted

While chasing him.

Have I come too late?!

If so, how awful!

I hope I have forestalled

The son of Oroi-Buhrai,

Orulos-Dokhsun

A great man,

Buhra-Dokhsun⁹⁴

With a harness

Of four rolling thunderbolts

And eight striking lightning whips,

So as not to let him

Abduct her –

Or has he done so already?!

What a tragedy that would be!

I tried to hurry

So I would hopefully forestall

The son of Ulutuyar Uluu Toyon

And haughty Khotun Kokhtuya,

Unruly Uot Uhumu, Tong Duhrai⁹⁵

With the huge fire-breathing dragon

For a horse,

Notorious for his rows,

Famous for his violence

In the southern swirling sky,

So as not to let him

Grab her and vanish,

So that I would not tread

On snow and slush.

Or has he already escaped with her?!

What terrible sadness that would be!

You, my brother, the best demon

Ehekh Kharbir, Three Shadows,

Timir Jigistei,

Born in the age of enmity,

Settled in the bottom

Of deadly Eluu Cherkechekh,

Do not let a white bird

Fly over my head.

You, my elder brother

Alyp Khara Aat Mogoidon,⁹⁶

The father of terrible Ap-Salbaniki,

Do not let a grey mouse

Slip under my feet.

They 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 to beget

Four kins of Sakha.

I have come to flay

Your thick skin myself,

I am here to punch

Your bloody head

With my fist,

I am ready

Like a drawn bow…’

The demon’s son hiccupped

Like a dying man,

Jumped up,

Slapping his sides.

His yell reached the sky,

He grinned crookedly,

He smiled disgustingly

And licked his neck

With his long tongue

That was like a sulphur fire

And began to howl…

THE SONG OF THE DEMON’S SON

‘Aar-jali! Aar-tatai!

Alaatigar emineh-tuomui!

What strange sounds you are uttering,

You, Aiyy-Khan’s relative?!

A poor boy, hairy child,

You are hardly visible

On the ground.

When you know me,

With my ninety-nine ways of escaping

And eighty-eight ways of cheating,

How could you dare to contradict me?!

If I hit you once,

If I kick you once

You will disappear into the mist.

Who would come and protect you

With his wide breast?

Who do you think

Will be your shield

So that you can oppose me?!

As for me,

I was conceived by my father

Who is the same as other men,

I was born by my mother

Who is the same as other women.

My ageing father is

Arsan Dolai, Logayar Luo Khan,

The forefather of the Ajarai kin,

In a worn-out fur coat,

With few sharp teeth and a tail;

My mother is Ala Buhrai, Aan Jahin,

The foremother of an evil kin,

Born shackled,

With shaking knees

And a sharp nose.

My brother is Ehekh Kharbir,

Three Shadows,

Timir Jigistei,

Born in the age of enmity,

Nestled at the bottom

Of Eluu Cherkechekh.

My elder brother

Is a great warrior,

Alyp-Khara, Aat-Mogoidon,

Born in a disastrous age,

Settled near the entrance

Of Ap-Salbaniki;

My sister is Kuo Chamchai Kyskyidaan Batyr,⁹⁷

Fiery Uot Kutaalai,

A great udagan,

With an unpredictable temper,

With grasping hands

And sharp nails.

If you want to know,

I am the warrior Uot Uhutaki⁹⁸

With cold breath

And wicked thoughts;

I was born under the western sky,

I am the spirit of icy Muus Kudulu

The bottomless ocean,

I am here in person

And of my own accord…

Will you not give your girl

As a wife,

To such a great man?!

Get her ready as a bow,

Dress her as a rainbow,

Adorn her as a flower,

Dress her

Like a favourite daughter of God,

Bring her as soon as possible!

Do not try my patience;

I will be angry with you,

Do not delay me,

I will fight you…

No hard feelings

Because you are my brother-in-law,

I am not in a rage yet,

Because you are my relative.

I will get her

Whether you agree or not –

It is all the same to me.’

He grinned ominously…

The first one said:

‘I will not give her to you!

You bloody, black villain,

Let us see how you are going to come

And get her.’

The other said:

‘I will get her

Whether you like it or not –

I do not care.’

They began to assault each other fiercely,

Like two bloodthirsty,

Furious bulls.

They began to cut each other furiously

Seized with a passion

To pierce each other’s heart.

The spikes of their spears twisted

Like flexible rose willows,

So they threw them aside…

Snatching their long, thin,

Bloodthirsty batases,

They began to chop at each other

As they would logs,

Crying out as they did so.

But soon their batases got broken

Like lake sedges,

So they were thrown aside…

Crying out furiously, the son of Aiyy,

Raising his huge fist

As big as the head

Of a six-year-old bull,

Punched at the other violently.

The son of Ajarai

Dodged the blow clumsily,

Smashing his wide hand

Into the heavy black fist

As big as the side

Of a sacrificial bull;

He kneaded his enemy

Like damp clay…

They fought furiously

For three days and nights:

It was a bold, useless fight,

A blind, senseless uproar…

Up to their hips

The soft soil

Was trampled down,

Up to their knees

The frozen soil

Was trodden down;

Tall became shorter,

Short became taller,

Mother Earth rocked like water

In a birch-bark bucket,

A deadly, skirmish,

A relentless battle took place here…

The strength of the mighty

And powerful warrior

Kun Jiribineh

With the grey horse faded;

During six days and nights

He tried to escape the blows…

The spirit of icy Muus Kudulu

The bottomless ocean,

The brave warrior Uot Uhutaki,

Breathing deeply,

Cried out:

‘This paltry scoundrel,

This wormling of the earth,

Made me pursue his shadow,

Wasting my time,

My marriage and the birth of my child!’

Saying so he fell,

Face down, on the ground,

Rolled up and down three times

And turned into a huge, fiery dragon

With three heads and six legs.

He turned round and tore away

The left side

Of their golden dwelling,

Which was seen

From a distance of one day.

He knocked down

The eastern side of it,

He gripped fair-faced

Tuyarima Kuo roughly

By her nine-bylas-long braid,

Whose body could be seen

Through her clothes,

Whose marrow could be seen

Through her bones,

Who was covered

With a sable skin

So as not to lose her lustre

In the sun,

Who was wrapped up

In a sable skin

So as not to burn her face

In the bright sky.

Holding her firmly,

Screaming and crying,

The son of Ajarai

Disappeared quickly

Beyond the low edge

Of the western sky…

Destined to engender

Three kins of Sakha,

Sakha Saaryn Toyon

And Sabyia Baai Khotun

Stayed there shouting

And burst into tears;

Their cry was heard

In the Upper World,

Their grief was known

In the Under World…

The relatives of Ala Buhrai

From the Under World,

The descendants of Nuken Buhrai⁹⁹

Who were miscreants

Trampled down

Relatives of Aiyy-Khan,

The kind-hearted tribes

With the reins on their backs,

Straight-nosed and front-faced;

The fire in their sacred hearth went out,

Their warm home was ruined…

The sons of Arsan Dolai, the demons,

Broke the orders of the Upper Deities…

Then the Deities decided

To send down

To the Middle World

The warrior

Nurgun Botur the Swift,¹⁰⁰

With the fleet of foot black horse,

Born standing on the border

Of the clear, white sky,

They got him as ready as an arrow,

They fitted him up as a bow,

To defend the Sun tribes,

To protect the Aiyy kin.

If you want to know who was sent to be a shield

Here is his story…

Since his childhood he promised,

Since the time he could barely sit

That by making a sharp wooden spear

He would trample the Upper World,

Since the time he started crawling

He threatened

He would rock the Under World,

Crushing it with his legs…

He roared violently,

They say…

¹Traditional epithet, part of the so called ‘epic formula’ that would appear regularly in the description of the earth, that is compared to a sewn birch bark container or bucket with rims to strengthen it. ‘Rim, brim’ would also imply the mountainous edges of the country. The epic number ‘eight’ conveys the idea of infinity; according to some scholars, it could also be the directions: north, south, east, west, north-east, north-west, south-east, south-west

²There are three worlds in the Sakha cosmology: Upper, Under and Middle

³Front-faced, two-legged, two-eyed, etc. – traditional characteristics of human beings

⁴Ability to foresee – intellect

⁵In the world of demons everything is perverse, even their clothes

⁶The Lord of the Under World

⁷His wife

⁸Traditional epithet highlighting the kinship between the Urankhai-Sakha people and Sunny Deities. It points out that the Sakha still live according to the rules of their gods

⁹The Sunny Deities from the Upper World

¹⁰The Lord of Ajarais – demons – from the Upper World

¹¹His wife

¹²One of the layers of the sky

¹³Utugen, nyuken etugen, tuptur etugen, is represented in Sakha as a name of the Under World, hell, the place where monsters live

¹⁴Toyuk – a traditional folk song of a melancholic character

¹⁵Sakha believe that their World, like an island of relative peace and stability, lies in an ocean and is surrounded by water. Oceans and water have negative connotation for the Sakha

¹⁶Baigal – large water basin or ocean

¹⁷An olonkho epic performer

¹⁸Title or way of addressing a rich, powerful man, close to the status of lord or knight

¹⁹Demons from the Under World. Another name is Ajarais

²⁰Name the Sakha/Yakut people use for themselves

²¹Here and below – the names of epic performers who really existed

²²The Supreme Deity, The White Lord of the Upper World and the Universe

²³1) Abundance, favour, benevolence, grace; or 2) Energy. Often used as a metaphor for food

²⁴Title or way of addressing a rich, powerful woman, close to the status of Lady

²⁵Aiyy – divine

²⁶A shamaness.

²⁷One of the demons

²⁸One of the demons’ lords, ‘suor’ means ‘raven’

²⁹A dale or valley usually with a lake in the middle.

³⁰Demoness, evil spirit of the ocean

³¹Epic performer

³²Epic performer

³³Her husband, the great lord of demons

³⁴Epic performer

³⁵Epic performer

³⁶Abyss – entrance to the Under World

³⁷Abyss – entrance to the Under World

³⁸A great demoness, wife of the Lord of the Under World

³⁹The demon’s tribe

⁴⁰Lord of Ajarais – Upper World demons

⁴¹The Sakha epic about the feats of heroes

⁴²Epic performer, woman

⁴³Epic performer

⁴⁴Batas, a Sakha weapon, similar to a long, wide knife with a long handle

⁴⁵Frogs, lizards, bugs, snakes – traditionally associated with evil in Sakha mythology

⁴⁶Another name of the descendants of the Sunny Deities. ‘Kun’ means ‘sun’

⁴⁷Another name of the humans, descendants of the Sunny deities

⁴⁸Three laughing abysses – entrances to the Under World

⁴⁹Three gods of fate

⁵⁰Their assistant and chronicler

⁵¹The Upper world is inhabited by both good Sunny Deities on upper layers and evil demons Ajarais on the lower ones

⁵²Moon and Sun and also some stars and constellations are traditional gods in the Sakha pantheon

⁵³Branches and twigs of young birch trees

⁵⁴The son of the God of Sun, patron of horses

⁵⁵His wife

⁵⁶Another demons’ lord

⁵⁷Epithets ‘icy’, ‘cold’, etc. point to the evil nature of the phenomenon or a person

⁵⁸Legendary blacksmith

⁵⁹‘Uot’ ‘fiery’ a traditional epithet applied to both good and evil characters

⁶⁰One of demons’ lords

⁶¹Kharis – measure of length, equal to the distance between the tops of stretched thumb and middle finger

⁶²Legendary chronicler and story-teller

⁶³His assistant

⁶⁴Dwelling

⁶⁵Here and before – names of spirits of hunting and the forest

⁶⁶Goddess of fertility, patroness of women, children and cattle

⁶⁷‘Silver’ means ‘white’

⁶⁸Goddess of fertility like Ekhsit. Often they are presented as one goddess

⁶⁹A wooden bowl used for drinking

⁷⁰Sakha traditional fermented mare’s milk which is also typical of other Turkic peoples

⁷¹Goddess of nature

⁷²‘White’ means ‘divine’

⁷³Evil spirit of the road

⁷⁴Bones are used in shamanistic rituals but only evil spirits use human bones

⁷⁵Usually the name of a natural phenomenon – abyss, road, ocean, etc., is the name of their spirits

⁷⁶Here and below – typical exclamations of demons

⁷⁷Names of famous demons

⁷⁸A legendary couple – foreparents of Sakha

⁷⁹Loose ends of woven fabric

⁸⁰A thick rope made with horse hair which was tied to two posts and to which a foal was tethered during milking

⁸¹A place where festivals are traditionally celebrated

⁸²Bylas: 2.134 metres

⁸³Copper, gold, golden, silver, and other names of metals are traditional epithets used as a compliment to someone’s appearance or richness

⁸⁴i.e. Ekhsit

⁸⁵The image of the mare is connected with the cult of the horse in Sakha mythology

⁸⁶Traditional way of addressing old or noble ladies

⁸⁷Here and there – human-beings

⁸⁸Sakha ‘kun’ means ‘sun’

⁸⁹A cone-shaped summer house covered with birch bark, cortex or deer leather. Variant of urasa

⁹⁰An Ekhsit/Aiyyhyt farewell ceremony: people demonstrate their joy and happiness after the visit of the goddess and put butter on their faces to look satisfied and happy

⁹¹Valley

⁹²Demons have features of animals

⁹³Famous demon-Ajarai from the Upper World

⁹⁴The god of thunder

⁹⁵Famous demon-Ajarai from the Upper World

⁹⁶Demon-dragon from the Under World, the spirit of the abyss

⁹⁷Demoness

⁹⁸Famous demon-Abaahy from the Under World, spirit of the ocean

⁹⁹A demon.

¹⁰⁰Famous hero from the Upper World, defender of the Middle World