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
