Dzhanar and Olokon
SONG OF INTRODUCTION
The path of the akyn is shrouded in fog...
A torrent of feelings and thoughts swirls,
But will it flow into the dastan
Or dissipate like mist?
Whatever it may be — believe in good.
Cast away doubts — forward, pen!
The poet begins the tale,
And the soul, agitated, burns,
Perhaps the sound of the poem and light
Will illuminate someone’s heart.
Intoxicated by inspiration,
He is under the sway of his dreams...
And perhaps tomorrow he will
Re-read, tear the pages.
From him the dream will fly away
And he will be saddened by futility...
He will again say to himself: “Go,
A new word is ahead.
Whatever it may be — believe in good.
Cast away doubts — forward, pen!”
This world will never end
This vast dastan,
Either its star will fade,
Or the mist will illuminate again.
Eyes will tire without strength,
As they decipher his words,
Days of gloom will be replaced by the fervor
Of inspiration and triumph.
So make up your mind, since you dared,
Comprehend the hidden roar.
Whatever it may be — believe in good.
Cast away doubts — forward, pen!
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MAKTYM
This world has seen much,
Looked into the eyes of different people.
The poor wandered like a living skeleton,
While the rich feasted in their tents.
But the free expanse of the plains
And the ridges of silent mountains
Were pierced by boundless light alone,
The vastness breathed free wind.
Above the earth, the eagle circled
And searched for its prey.
The coward lived in comfort,
While the hero perished in battle.
In those ancient years
Misfortune visited people —
The unclean spirit — the wicked devil
Took away peace from people.
He intoxicated, lamented,
Lured into the forest, laughed,
Stole whatever he could —
There was no end to that unclean spirit.
They would have ensnared the whole world
These devils year after year,
But a young hero arose,
Shielding the people.
To restore peace to the people,
To continue the human race,
He struck down the wrongdoers
With his iron hand.
In those distant times
At the foot of a steep mountain,
Where the river sang with its waves,
Lived a brave hero.
He earned a good reputation
For his good deeds,
He lived in harmony with everyone,
Was the hope of the whole village.
One day, having gone for water,
His sister did not return home.
The day passes, and cannot calm
The mother, who is crying out,
And the hero does not know what to do —
What to do, what to undertake?
The horse is already stamping its hoof,
The bow tightly fastened to the saddle —
But where is the unknown enemy,
Into what darkness has he fled?
Which road to ride,
Which pass to avoid,
To find and embrace
The one he played with in childhood?
But doubt is the enemy of the soul,
Better act, hurry forward.
Olokon shod the horse,
Put his saber into its sheath,
With steel armor on his chest,
He hurried into the unknown path.
And the oldest man of that village
Came out into the circle — his hair is white,
Wise gaze and pure soul —
And said Uluqman-ata:
“Be ready for anything, my son,
And keep courage in your heart —
The feat is difficult and the path is long,
The unknown is ahead.
Ride for thirty days without roads
Up the riverbed — only forward —
And you will see the smoke of yurts
At the foot of the Oirot mountain,
There an old man far from everyone
With an old woman spends his days.
If anyone can help —
It is only their beautiful daughter.
She knows the language of the devils,
Since childhood, she has been going to their cave
And, half living with them,
Helps her kin,
Protecting them from dark charms.
Listen, her name is Dzhanar.
ON THE WAY TO THE UNKNOWN
Olokon set off
Along the river from his native mountain,
His mind occupied with the difficult thought
Of his missing sister's fate.
Youth flowed peacefully
Among the meadows, amidst the steep mountains,
And hunting was a joy —
A cheerful celebration of youthful summers.
But from this day, sorrow
Drives him into the unknown distance,
His meadows have darkened.
To find, to overcome the enemy,
To save dear Maktym —
There is no other path for him.
The sixth day has already passed,
As he rode without rest,
Olokon crossed the steep,
Snowy, gloomy pass –
There below, the river boiled,
Washing the sides of the stones.
On the fifteenth day of the journey
He sees — a lake ahead
Splashing with blue waves against the shore.
Olokon interrupts his run —
Rested, watered his horse,
And — forward, not losing a day.
Twenty days have already passed,
The argamak is snorting louder,
Exhausted, he has worn down his shoes,
On his sides, black sweat,
He trembles and whinnies anxiously,
And he lacks the strength to gallop.
Olokon quickly dismounted
And leads the horse by the reins,
He continues his journey on horseback,
When his faithful horse rests.
Olokon has grown thin, tired,
His chest rises heavily...
Only then did the hero feel,
How hard the path to victory is.
“My argamak barely breathes,
I myself have long been exhausted,
But still the enemy is unknown,
The future remains dark.
Will I find my sister,
Will I reflect in her eyes,
Or will my forgotten dust
Scattered in the mountains on the wind?”
Lost in sad thoughts
Olokon continues his path...
The longer the path behind him,
The shorter it is ahead,
And the meeting with the Oirot mountain
Is soon, soon, dear reader, wait.
Here the hero froze. motionless –
A white yurt before him.
He could not believe it, rubbed his eyes —
Everything, as it is — smoke rises to the sky
Peacefully curling from the tent,
Teasing his nostrils with the smell of food,
And his hand urges the horse...
“If only there were no trouble here!”
Suddenly Olokon realized
And, letting the horse into the meadow,
He hid himself in the bushes
Listening carefully to every sound.
So an hour passes after hour,
In the white yurt, the fire has gone out,
The smoke does not rise, it is quiet around,
And the surrounding meadow is drowsy.
In the yurt, there is a strange silence,
As if it has not been inhabited —
There is neither knocking nor voices.
Soon it will be completely dark.
Yes, after so many long hours
One could have boiled stones by now!
Olokon, confused by the mystery,
Cannot understand anything,
He has struggled for thirty days
Not to lie here.
Or, if he waits a little longer,
Perhaps continue the journey further?
But suddenly from the evening sky
A thunderous sound resounds —
What wonder in the sky makes noise,
What bird flies to the yurt,
Yes, it seems it is not simple —
There are no wings and no tail,
Believe it or not, but a tray flies
Only a scoop is attached to the side.
It lands at the door,
A girl came out onto the threshold,
Quickly puts something into the tray
And Olokon could not blink an eye,
And the tray vanished without a trace..
He hung his head on his chest
And felt helpless
Before the charms of dark forces,
What fate has prepared for him,
And how lonely he is...
Saddened, the jigit is downcast,
And a tear is about to well up
On his eyelashes — but weakness, away!
Let him hurry,
If he wants to help his sister.
To be continued...