Janar and Olokon. Fairy Tale - Poem. Part 2

CONVERSATION IN THE YURT. Part 2

Olokon rises,
He heads towards the yurt,
Gripping the horse firmly by the bridle.
And leads it by the reins,
He passes the wide meadow —
Who is there in the yurt — an enemy or a friend?
He shouted loudly: “Who is here?
A man or an evil demon?
I swear — and honor is my pledge.
I will see you now.
If you are a simple man,
I want to ask for directions.
If you are a shaitan or an abrek,
Then a fight is no trouble for a batyr.
For thirty days misfortune chased me
Along the mountain roads,
I rode hard, sparing my horse not,
To get here faster,
If you are an enemy — expect no mercy.
Whoever you are — come out!”
He was already ready for battle...
Suddenly, an old man of advanced years
Opened the flap of the white yurt
And invited the batyr inside.
A young jigit enters the yurt —
Here the archa crackles in the hearth,
And it is not a jinn by the fire, nor a shaitan —
A girl is cleaning her cauldron,
Only the house seems gloomy,
And the batyr feels anxious in it.
He sees, lying on the side, thin,
There is an old woman — misfortune has come —
Her gaze is unclear and her voice weak —
Yes, the slave of illness is unhappy!
“You live far from us,
You have traveled many roads,—
Stirring in your hearth,
The old man began. — Tell me, son,—
The mountain wind has whipped you,
Your Argamak is tired on the way—
Where are you from, where are you rushing,
What do you hide in your troubled soul?
With words you will shed your burden from your shoulders,
And then we will speak.”

The jigit told the old man,
Why he had grown thin on the way,
How he rushes to fight the enemy,
But cannot find,
Where the jinn-shaitan is hiding,
He told that Ulumkan
Sent him to this yurt,
And conveyed greetings to the old man.
But one thing the jigit did not say —
What secret Djanar hides.
Olokon looked at her,
She turned to him —
And he saw the sky,
On which the moon had risen,
And her eyes, like stars, shine,
Responding to the young man's gaze.
The batyr does not remember himself,
Suddenly he lost the power of speech,
As if he soared into the sky — and around
A golden unknown world.
He floats in the air wave
In oblivion, like fluff, weightless,
Or he has fallen into a wonderful dream,
Flying on a magical horse.
Whoever sees Djanar even once
Will not forget her beauty:
These hands, these shoulders and eyes —
And will not find peace.
Only the peri is sometimes granted
To possess such beauty.
Even the bravest jigit
Only says one word —
And in confusion, he falls silent,
And it is not given to raise
Admiring eyes twice —
Such beauty is looked at only once.
Olokon feels the same,
But no matter how struck he was,
Before him stood his sister,
So sharp was his pain.
The jigit overcame himself,
Turned his face to the old man:
“My horse rushes into the distance,
A sharp sabre at my side,
But the further I ride ahead,
The stronger my anxiety grows —
I keep imagining Maktym
In a dark den, captured...
Tell me, where is she now,
Support me with your advice.”
At these sad words,
Djanar dropped the cauldron,
She hurriedly picked it up,
Gave a glance to the jigit,
And her eyes still shine,
Like two blue stars,
And to whoever sees them,
It is destined to lose peace,
To forever be united with sorrow,
For this gaze will pour into hearts
The sweet honey of unknown feelings.
Any jigit will be happy,
Who awakens love in Djanar.
The old man said nothing,
Stirring the ashes in the hearth,
He looked at the batyr slowly,
His ancient face was mysterious:
“If you have set your path to a goal,
Be decisive, be firm,
Do not give feelings freedom on the way
Or you will not reach her.
You wanted to know about the devs,
I will share with you.
Know, batyr, the Earth is not their mother,
And their homeland is far away.
They are free from everything,
In their cave among the shadows
For many years, not counting days,
Hundreds of people chip away at stones,
Breaking through into the depths of the mountains...

Many years have passed since then,
When someone saw the flight of the Iron Bird —
Their ship fell on a cliff,
Like a fearsome mountain collapse —
The thunder was loud — it cannot be conveyed —
And many of them perished,
And the survivors
Buried them like friends.
Their guttural voices sound unusual to us,
And their countless eyes look
In many directions.
Twenty fingers love work.
And they are accustomed to labor —
They rub dry trees,
Gathering food for themselves,
Or, mixing boulders,
Like clay, they build a house,
They are interested in local customs,
They write a book about it.
And they hunt people
In their swift-winged plate —
As soon as they notice someone —
They land in an instant
And take them to their mine,
To dig for tin and mercury.
If you spit on slave labor,
Throw a stone for them to chip,
They do not punish, do not strike —
They discuss how to deal with it.
And the metal mined by people
They later store in the Bird,
Watching closely day and night,
So that no one escapes.
But they also watch that
Everyone has clothes,
That there is enough food for all,
So that no harm comes to people.
The daughter will tell about the details,
But keep the weapons safe,
For the aliens are not the enemies,
With whom one fights with swords...” —
Smiling, the old man said
And dressed, and went out.
In the hearth, the fire was dying...
In contemplation, Olokon
Stared motionlessly into the hearth,
Struck by the strange tale,
As if he wanted to uncover a secret
In the glowing coals, carrying heat...
And then he looked at Djanar.
“Do not be upset, batyr! —
Djanar softly speaks, like a friend,—
Perhaps heavy illness can be overcome,
If you look at the world gloomily.
Not out of malice, nor out of mischief
Do these strange beings abduct
Our girls —
They just want to listen to songs.
Though their language is unfamiliar to us,
They do no harm to anyone,
In their cave, it is bright as day,
The fate of the girls there is bright.
For them, the cave is like a second home —
Songs, dances, cheerful noise;
You would make friends with the mountain —
There is much to learn there.

Hurry — time does not wait,
For the aliens are hurrying themselves,
Quickly repairing their spaceship
And casting a glance at the sky.
I will lead you, if you want, to them,
A warm welcome will be given to you,
There lives your Maktym,
Her face is beautiful and rosy,
Like the grain of ripe wheat.
So, what do you say, shall we go? It’s decided?” —
Djanar smiled at him.
All doubts, the heat of the soul
Burst out now,
Tears welled up in his eyes.
And his heart beat: “Hurry,
Do not waste time in vain,
Keep the path to your sister dear,
Bring her back to the homeland.

To be continued...
Beginning:Djanar and Olokon. Tale - Poem. Part 1