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
