ÍÀÐÒ
ÏÑÛÑÝÕÝÐÈ ÏØÛÍÀËÚÝÕÝÐÈ
Legends and Songs of the
Nart Epos
Amjad Jaimoukha
Çûòõàð: Æýìûõúóý Àìäæýä (Àìûù)
Íàðòûæü óýðýäûì èòù íàðòõýì ÿ
ÿáãàãúýð êúåõýãúýù åäçûãúóý èêIè õüýëýìýò èêIè øûíàãúóý:
Ñè
äæàòýæüóðý, óîé äóíåé, õüýùõüýðûIóýäçý,
È äçýïêúèòIûìêIý,
óîé, ëúûð
éîæýõðè.
My great sabre is as fearsome as a crazed hound,
Streaming crimson blood down its twosome
fangs.
Ëúýïùûì òåõóàóý çû Íàðò ïñûñý êIýùI ãóýð
ñIóýòûæûíóù, ÿïý ùIûêIýó àäûãýáçýìêIý èòIàíý èíäæûëûçûáçýìêIý çåäçýêIàóý:
Ëúýïù è ãúóùI Iýäýì è õúûáàð
Ëúýïù ãúóùI Iýäý èIûãúûó
ãúóêIýó ùûòàêúûì. ÇýðûãúóêIýó ùûòàð èIýìêIý ãúóùI
ïëúàð èIûãúûó àðàù. Ïùýääæûæü
ãóýðûì Ëúýïù è ôûçûì áûëûìûð äèõóàóý, ãúóýãóì áëý óêIà òåëúó èðèõüýëIàù, áëýì è êIýïèòIûð çýáëýäçàóý.
Ôûçûð êúýêIóýæðè Ëúýïù æûðèIàù:
— Ñý íîáý áëý óêIà ñûõóýçàòè àáû åùõü Iýäý ïùIàìý, ãúóùIûð èðèóáûäó, óèIýð èìûñýó óðèëàæüý õúóíóò, — æèIýðè. Ëúýïù äýêIðè åïëúàù. ÊúýêIóýæûðè àáû åùõüó Iýäý èùIðè, àáûêIý ëàæüýó ùIèäçàù. Àáäåéæûì Iýäýð ÿùIó êúåæüàù. Àáû ÿïýêIý Iýäý ùûIàêúûì.
Ëúýïù è Iýãúóàïýì çûðè èðèãúàïëúýó
ùûòàêúûì. È êIûùûð ñûò ùûãúóè
ãúýáûäàóý, àáû è êIóýöIûì åçûð ùûëàæüýó ùûòàù. ÔIèïëúà íýóæü è IýùIàãúýì ùèíýæàù.
In the
beginning Lhepsch (the patron of the smiths and the
smithy) was not a blacksmith to use iron tongs yet. He used his bare hands to
manipulate the red-hot iron. One morning, while his wife was driving the herd
of cattle, she found a dead snake lying on the road, its two ends crossing one
another.
Lhepsch’s wife came back and told him:
— ‘I came across a dead snake with its head and tail crossing each
other. If you could make a pair of tongs in that shape to hold the iron, you
will be able to work it without singeing your hands.’
Lhepsch went out and had a look. He came back and
fashioned pincers in that form. Thenceforward, he began to utilize them in his
work. This was how tongs were invented. Afterwards they started to be
manufactured. Lhepsch was not the sort of blacksmith
to let anyone look up his sleeve (he was loath to let people in on his tricks).
He guarded his secrets well. He always kept his smithy locked while he worked
inside. However, after they looked inside his shrine, he gave up his craft, as
the magic was gone.
Àäûãý Ïðîìåòåé òåõóà ïøûíàëúýõýì ìû êúýêIóýíó
ïîýìý ãúóýçýäæýð ÿùûùò. Ïîýìýì è ÿïý
ïû÷ûãúóýð êúóäåéóý äûçýðûçûëúûòýíóù, åçû ïîýìýð çýðûêIûõü ùõüýêIý:
Àðìý ÑîñðûêúóàïöIý,
Àðìý ëIû ôIûöIý ãúóùIûíý,
ÌûäýêIý åìûíý øó.
Íàðò øóõýð ìýøýñ,
Íàðò øóõýð ùûøýñûì,
Ñîñðûêúóè êúàêIýðûõóù.
Æýùèáë ìàõóèáë óàåìè, íûçàðèùIýêIù.
Íàðòûæüõýðè áãúýïIûùIýù,
Óý åçûõýðè íûçàóïùIûæù:
Óý, Èìûñ, ìàôIý óèIý?
Óý, Ñîñûì, ìàôIý óèIý?
Æüûíäó ÆüàêIý, ìàôIý óèIý?
Àðýêú Øó, ìàôIý óèIý?
Óýçûðìýãú, ìàôIý óèIý?
Íýñðýí ÆüàêIý, ìàôIý óèIý?
Àøý è êúóý Àøýìýç, ìàôIý óèIý?
Õúûìûù è êúóý Áàòýðýç, ìàôIý óèIý?
Ñûáûëøè, ìàôIý óèIý?
Àëáý÷ è êúóý Òîòýðýø, ìàôIý óèIý?
Íàðòûäçýó åæüàõýì
ìàôIý çèIý êúàõýêIêúûì.
Àíýì è êúóèòIðè êúûòõüýóñûõýù:
«Äý äûìûäåëýòýìý,
Ñîñðûêúóè äûçûõýìûòûì,
äýðè äûêúàäåæüýíòýêúûì».
Àð æàIýðý çäýïûòó,
Ñîñðûêúóè êúýñàù:
«Ìûðè äè äûùý ëIýóæü,
Àðìý äè ëIýóæüûôI,
ìàôIý ùõüýêIý äûçýòåóëIý».
«Àé õüàé, ñý ñèIý», — æèIýðè,
ìàôIýð èíó êúàõóèùIù;
Äçý ïñîðè ùûçýäåéêIóýì,
Ñîñðûêúóè êúàãúýãóáæüù.
ÌàôIýð çýõèäçðè,
Ïñûì õèäçýæù.
Óý íàðòûæüõýð ìàôIýíøýó êúûùûíýì:
«Àðìý, äè Ñîñðûêúóý,
ìûäý äè äûùý ëIýóæü,
Àðìý, äè ëIýóæüûôI,
ÌàôIý óèIýì êúûòõóýùI», æàIýðè,
Ìûð èòIàíý êúåóëúýIó.
«Óàùõúóý êúàí, ñèìûIý,
ñèìûIýìè ôõóýñùIûíù».
(This is the story of how Nart Sosriqwe,
the chief protagonist of the Epos, outwitted the One-eyed Giant to get away
with stealing a fire-brand from his bleak tower to light a fire for the Nart
horsemen who had been caught in a devilish blizzard)
Swarthy Sosriqwe,
The iron-eyed darksome man,
Most intrepid knight.
The Nart horsemen were riding for plunder.
Sosriqwe lingered behind.
A Satanic blizzard beat down on our heroes
For seven days and seven nights.
“Yimis; Sosim; Zchindu-zchach’e; Areq-shu;
Wezirmej; Nisren-zchach’e;
Ashemez, Son of Ashe; Baterez, son
of X’imisch;
Sibil-shiy; Toteresh, son of Albech;
Can any of you light a fire?”
None of our brave-hearts had a fire.
Their Mother’s Darlings lamented:
“We are such fools,
To leave on a raid without Sosriqwe.”
As they were thus bewailing,
Sosriqwe arrived.
“Our Gilded Offspring,
Our Lustrous Progeny,
If you have a fire, kindle it for us.”
“I surely have.”
Sosriqwe made a huge fire;
The whole army stampeded;
Enraged, Sosriqwe scattered the fire,
And flung it into the river.
“Swarthy Sosriqwe,
Our Golden Issue,
The best of our best,
We beseech you.”
“I swear by Waschx’we, my
That I no longer have fire,
Yet I will fetch it for you.”
He jumped on his Tx’we-zchey, [=name of Sosriqwe’s steed (literally:
Little Dun)]
Tore up Hereme Hill and looked around.
He espied smoke issuing from
An old tumulous tower.
He dismounted and crept thither.
It was the Giant’s abode.
The Monster lay ring-like in a deep
slumber:
His feet tucked under his head,
The fire in the middle.
Sosriqwe went
back,
And consulted his steed:
“My Tx’we-zchey,
The fleetest of them
all.
This is the Giant’s mound,
His feet are tucked under his head,
The fire in the middle.
The Ogre is sleeping.
Tell me, pray, how to steal a brand?”
“Swarthy Sosriqwe,
The iron-eyed darksome man,
Most dashing horseman.
Ride on my back;
I will turn the clatter of my hooves
Into the rude tread of a hound;
As we get nearer to the slumbering Giant
I will make my steps as soft as those
Of a gentle feline;
We will sneak up,
And you will snatch a fire-brand.”
Sosriqwe mounted
his Dun,
Stole up to the tower
And seized a brand.
They galloped for seven days and seven
nights;
The fire-brand slipped from his hand, and,
Carried by the wind,
Landed on the Giant’s
knee.
The Giant started from his slumber;
He reckoned his brands:
One was missing.
“I will immolate the vile brigand
On my father’s altar,” thundered the Ogre.
Without leaving his post,
He groped for the robber along the Seven
Roads,
And
caught him that had been galloping
For seven days and seven
nights.
“Young Nart,
Nart horseman,
I shall devour you whole,
If you fail to tell me
where Sosriqwe is.”
“I have never met this fiend,
But I know of his exploits.”
“Spare thyself and shew
me of his ploys.”
“With pleasure”, said our wily hero,
Seizing on his chance.
Sosriqwe led the
Giant on.
“Sosriqwe stands
at the foot of
The Abra
Stone*º is rolled down;
He knocks it with his brow,
And sends it back up
faster than it came down.”
“I am game.”
Sosriqwe ran up
the mountain;
He let down the Abra
Stone;
The Giant butted the Stone
Sending it up fast up the
precipice.
The Giant cowered slightly.
“This is a glorious game.
It has soothed my itchy brow.
If you know a better one, teach it to me.”
Sosriqwe cursed
the Heavens
For not divining the
Giant’s demise.
“I will shew you
a more wonderful one.”
He led the Giant further on.
“Sosriqwe sits
on his knees;
His wide-open mouth is filled with arrows;
He bites off the steel arrow-heads,
Swallows them and spits out the shafts.”
The Giant dropped down to his knees.
He gaped his
mouth.
Sosriqwe crammed
it full of arrows.
The Giant snipped off the arrow-heads,
Gulped them down and spewed out the
shafts.
“Young Nart,
Nart horseman,
This is such a splendid game.
It has slaked the itch in my mouth.
If you know of a better one, teach it to
me.”
Sosriqwe damned
For not divining the
Giant’s ruin.
“Sosriqwe opens
his mouth wide.
A sharp red-hot ploughshare
Is thrown into his innards;
He cools it down in his stomach,
And casts it out from
his behind.”
Sosriqwe
white-heated the ploughshare,
And tossed it into the
Giant’s gaping jaws.
The Giant cooled it in his belly,
And flung it out.
“Young Nart,
Nart horseman,
This is quite a marvelous
game.
It has relieved my itching paunch.
Shew me a more daring one.”
Sosriqwe
imprecated fate
For not divining the
Giant’s bane.
“Hold on, Colossal One.
There is still one more to be played:
Sosriqwe is
taken across the Seven Gulfs;
In the very deepest one,
He is placed such that his feet
Are just above the sea-floor,
His mouth barely above the water;
The gulf is then caused to freeze
For seven days and seven
nights.
He adroitly wriggles out of the icy
waters.”
Sosriqwe froze
the water around the Giant.
“Now, extricate thyself.”
As the ice began to crack:
“Stay put, Giant.
It would do your muscles a world of good,
If the ice is made even
harder.”
Sosriqwe made
sure that this time
The ice was rock-solid.
“Try now.”
“Try as I might, I don’t seem to be able
To get myself out of
this one.”
Sosriqwe unbared his sword,
And flew at the Giant.
“Huff”, the Giant blew Sosriqwe
The distance of a whole
morning’s gallop.
Sosriqwe
returned swiftly, sword in hand.
As
he made to cut the hapless Ogre’s head,
The Giant sobbed:
“I must have been a complete fool
For failing to identify
you, Sosriqwe, by your human knees*¹.”
Sosriqwe
beheaded the Giant,
And brought back a
fire-brand.
The Nart warriors were huddled together
for warmth,
Some had perished from the cold,
Some from the heat.
For the few survivors,
Sosriqwe kindled
a huge blaze.
Reanimated, they continued on their
expedition,
And made good spoil.
They were safely led back home by Sosriqwe.
*0 A stone of enormous size and immense weight.
*1 Sosriqwe had a body of steel. However, because he was held
by a pair of tongs from his knees while he was being tempered by Lhepsch, the god of the smiths, they were rendered
human-like.
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