The Tale of Manas. Remembrance of Kököktöy. Part - 4

Memorial for Kёkёktёy. Part - 4

Six hundred logs of larch were tied together, and a rope was woven from forty-two cords. At the top of the larch, they tied the targets - this was arranged for shooting practice.

Everyone who considered themselves a marksman prepared to try their luck. They shot from early morning until the scorching noon, expending all their arrows, but no tricks or techniques could knock the targets off the pole.

At that time, Manas and his forty choro arrived. Each choro shot once and hit one of the ropes.

Manas was the last to shoot and severed the last two ropes. The targets, glinting in the sun, fell to the ground and rolled away. At that moment, Manas, while galloping, bent down and grabbed them. The surrounding people froze in amazement, witnessing his daring.

After this, they decided to arrange duels.

For the winners, prizes were set: six hundred horses, one hundred camels, two hundred cows, and five hundred sheep. From among the Chinese, Joloy emerged and sat in the midst of the people surrounding him.

Then, in the midst of the Chinese and Kalmyks
A gap suddenly formed.
As if the earth had split in two,
As if a mountain had crumbled.
Dust rose, but soon dispersed,
And then many could see
The clumsy Joloy batyr.
The entire yurt assessed him,
Everyone chose Joloy for the battle.
This is he who soars at the mouth of the Amur,
This is he whose strength boils like unslaked lime.
He is the peak of the snowy mountain.
He is the important toré among the Kalmyks
He eats six batmans of roasted grain at once,
And always smells of wheat from the great Joloy.
He drinks the blood of sixty horses at once.
- This is what the giant Joloy is like!
He eats seven batmans of roasted grain in one sitting,
He drinks the blood of seventy slaughtered horses in one gulp.
If you look at his nails,
- They are like tiger claws.
If you look at his mustache,
- They are like the blades of a mill wheel.
Like a straight row of straightened blades.
They stick out one by one.
The pupils of his eyes are as large as a big bowl.
He had a father, but he did not read him a bat.
He has words, but he speaks as if he is chopping.
There is no such brute in the world!
His thickness is disproportionate to his height.
His broad face is frowning and unfriendly.
He is like a wary tiger, ready to pounce.
His eyebrows frame his forehead.
He is like a heavy camel, no one can lift him.
His head is like a portable cauldron.
The braid falling behind
Is braided like a bridle made of horsehair.
He is about forty years old,
He has not lived long, the cursed one,
And already he has grown to the height of a whole minaret!
He has taken it into his head
Not to leave alive
Any of the giants of this world.
His ears are like shields or a hand umbrella.
- Such was this Kalmyk batyr,
Who importantly walked to the battlefield.
If you look at his eyelashes,
They resemble nettles on the slopes of a mountain.
His ears are like a shield.
If a stone the size of a mountain gets into his hands,
He turns it into flour with one press.
If you look closely at his torso,
The distance between his shoulders
Is equal to one and a half spans of arms.
This strongman is close in spirit to Konurbai,
He is his bosom friend.
So great is the size of his shoulders,
That each can accommodate a person.
So meaty are his wide cheeks,
That each cheek can feed two greyhounds.
He strides broadly and heavily.
Every joint of Joloy
Is infinitely strong, like in a fairy tale.
Joloy's eye sockets
Are like a deep pit for grain.
The pus at the tips of his eyes
Is like a full bowl of food.
His calves are thick, like a bull's belly.
The breath coming from his mouth
Is loud, like the wind of a mountain pass.
The elbows of both his arms
Are like forty-year-old chinars.
If you look at his eyelids.
They are furrowed, like the eyelids of an eagle,
Who never misses his prey.
His chest is powerful and strong.
Like the surface of a wide hill.
The demeanor and character of Joloy
Resemble that of a hungry wolf.
The curve of his spine
Is wide, like a plain for horse racing.
Each of his breast's nipples
Is the size of a two-year-old fir tree.
He puffs out his chest like a bull,
And, on top of that - he is terribly arrogant.
His sword is sharp and his spear is strong.
There is something lion-like in his appearance.
Whatever he desires, he always achieves:
Stubbornness in him is very strong.
For the duel, the people chose Joloy-batyr
As the most suitable.
His muscles are like the body of a bull,
His might is heroic,
No one who can fight will bypass him.
He has the ability to win.
He never thinks about death:
In this, he is like an animal.
Anyone who has seen his fearsome appearance,
Is seized by a strong tremor.
He came and sat on the square,
Purring like a drunken elephant.
His pipe, the size of a trough,
Released bursts of thick smoke.
His throat emitted a roar.
Like a rushing stream from the mountains.
The anger that flowed from his eyes,
Hissed like fiery lava.
The Kalmyk shouted a battle cry -
And from that cry, those nearby went deaf.
When Joloy stepped out for the duel,
Fear seized his opponents.
Without even saying - A!
He stepped forward and undressed.
He performed his prayer in his own way
Turning his face to the east.
Many looked at him:
Kalmyks, Chinese, Indians, Jews.
At abake Koshoy
The whites of his eyes were like the star Chulpon
His ear, shaped like a crescent moon, resembled a shield.
It is he, er Koshoy,
Who opened the way to the impregnable Beijing.
It is he, er Koshoy,
Who revived the quiet, forgotten Kashgar.
It is he, er Koshoy,
Who restored life to the devastated bazaars.
From a vulture, he made a hunting bird.
From eaters of carrion, he made brisk hunters.
From equal vagabonds, he created a people.

- Ah, you cursed one, - he shouted at Joloy, - you won't be boasting for long! Hey, fellows, come out and fight him! - and he himself galloped to the Kyrgyz batyrs. Koshoy turned to Tyoshtyk:

- You are the youngest of the nine sons,
And the favorite of Elemán bay!
Can you fight the batyr,
Can you defend our honor?

And Tyoshtyk replied to him:

- Oh, abake!
If you say so, I will go.
How can I not go?
Does the moon hide from the stars?
How can I hide
From this vile glutton Joloy?
Seven years have passed since I descended into the depths of the earth,
But only seven days have passed
Since I rose to its surface.
I have only one spoonful of blood left,
And my body is all bruised.
Koshoy looked at him with a probing eye and said:
- Stay! Among the Kyrgyz
You are one of the mighty wrestlers, Tyoshtyk!
Among the Kyrgyz, you are a true syrtán, Tyoshtyk!

Koshoy came to Akbay and asked:

- Oh my little horse, Akbay, will you go out for the duel?

Seventeen-year-old Akbay quietly replied:

- Of course, I will.

But Koshoy looked at him with a probing eye and said:
- Just married rascal! Your bones have become soft after the honeymoon! For the Kalmyk batyr Joloy is capable of tearing your arms off like those of a small child. The Kyrgyz will not tolerate this, and then a great battle will begin between the peoples.

Thus, Koshoy addressed all the Kyrgyz batyrs in turn, but none of them were suitable for the duel.

Then Koshoy came for advice to Manas:

- Either you or I must face this capyra Joloy. No one else will be able to step onto the square, and even if they do, what good will it do?

Manas said to him:

- I am weak in foot combat. I can only fight on horseback. I will go out for the battle with spears and in mounted combat, but for hand-to-hand combat, you go out.

Koshoy then remembered that he was already eighty-five years old and that he no longer had his former strength. After lamenting this, he nevertheless agreed and said:

- Anyway, my head will meet one death! I cannot disobey you, Manas! Let your word be done. I will go out. But my shimys are already worn out. If Joloy pulls them, they will fall apart, and I will become a laughingstock for the people. Find me sturdy shimys.

They began to search, but no one's shimys suited Koshoy. Then Manas said:

- Chalybai or Adzhibai have my shimys, take them; if they do not fit, then there are no others anywhere.

They searched for Manas's shimys, but they did not suit Koshoy either. Then Manas reproached Chalybai and Adzhibai. Chalybai and Adzhibai carefully examined the shimys and discovered that there was a hidden reserve in the seams. They quickly ripped the seams, put them on Koshoy, and they fit perfectly. Koshoy was very pleased.

- Wonderful shimys, who could have sewn them? - he asked Manas.

Manas smiled to himself and replied:

- Kanikey still has no child and longs for one. She skillfully sewed these shimys to receive the blessing of a warrior. "This will bring me happiness - a child," she said.

Then Koshoy called Kanikey and pronounced his bat:

Only Allah fulfills desires!
If He sends you a child,
Let him not be a daughter, but a son,
Let him not be a bear, but a lion.
Let him defeat everyone he shoots at.
Let him fell everyone he fights with.
Let him graze horses only in thick grasses.
Let no one among men surpass him.
The steppe feather grass will stir from his daring.
He will delight all his relatives.
He will spill enemy blood like a black river.
All nations will feel his strength.
He will shed the blood of enemies like water.
Instead of clothes, he will tear apart foreign armies,
Instead of hats, he will knock off heads.
Instead of fabric, he will pierce eyes,
Everything that his hand touches,
He will turn to stone and ash.
Let him cut down the resisting enemy
Like a goat.
Let his name be Semetey.
Let the son-in-law - the bride Arooke
Always be his advisor,
Let him be his true friend.
And that advisor will be called Kulchoro.
Let him be flexible, like a willow,
Let him be a friend of Semetey,
When he gets angry.
Then let him finish off
Abike, Kёbёsh, and Khan Jakyp.
Let him finish off the forty choro,
If they do not obey Semetey.
Let him level the hilly land,
Let him sharpen his black bulat.
When curses come to his tongue,
Let him finish off Khan Konur, -
Thus ended his bat Koshoy.

The Tale of Manas. Memorial for Kёkёktёy. Part - 3