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.
