Page 118 - ELES BOOTUR (2)

102 PETR OGOTOEV

Even if you’re a relative
Of the Sun tribe.
I was charmed by a shaman
When I was eight.
I swore them not to take a pity
On the divine tribe.
A brave spirit of the vast sky,
A strong hero of the Middle World
Will never discharm me
And weaken me, indeed.
If you want to die without torments
Lie on your back,
I’ll kill you, immediately.
If you lie flat on your back.
If you’re against it
I’ll pick out your every muscle,
You’ll die slowly in pangs.”

Eles Bootur

“You, a devil relative,
Cold breathing abaasy,
Don’t praise your magics up to the sky.
Don’t rely on your tricks.
They’ll pass like clouds.
I’ll cut your thick skin,
I’ll pour your black blood,
I’ll break your bones and
Cut your spine and
Stop your breath.
You’ll be a prey of insects.”
Having stopped their insults,
They clashed like two big
Stone mountains,
Shrieking out started to fight.
It was an uproar of the one-eyed,
Bold fight of the blind.
A bustle and noise of the devils,
It became pitch-dark,
Yelling they threw each other,