Page 62 - ELES BOOTUR (2)

6 2 PETR OGOTOEV

Any foal out of herd of horses!
Let enlarge more
My easily scared trotters.
Let be in group,
My running black trotters.
The Spirit of my plant
My proud decorating boys,
My merry beautiful girls,
Don’t let frost any blade of grass.
The Spirit of my eight-edged
Wonderful Land,
Made its nest in a great oak,
Kind-hearted, blessing-tongued
Smiling Aan-Alakhchyn,
Being offended and disappointed
Pushing aside your four gates
Don’t let blow draught
My dwelling to frozen,
The Middle World to disturb!
I’m leaving this World
To protect my tribe
From an invisible intruder.
Farewell to you, Spirits
Of my fire place, of my house
Of the Middle World!
I’ll come back in three years,
If I don’t die and vanish.
If I die, my Spirit
As big as a two-year old boy
Will moan out of the fire place
In the face of a shaman-protector
And if I don’t die
You’ll see my shot arrow
On the best cross-beam
Brightening with its feathers.”
Snatching his whistling whip
Swift as a star,
Undoing the sunny bridle
Tied firmly nine times,
Catching its long rein