Information portal of the Institute of Literature and Art named after Mukhtar Auezov

Many years ago,
As legend tells us so,
In the Zhideli Baisyn land,
An old man by wealth was fanned.
Konyrat was tribe of his,
Baibori was name of his.

Look at his prosperity,
Fatted sheep variety.
Exactly, ninety herds of sheep,
And camels among the sands he keeps.
Ninety thousand pieces, he knows,
In the flood meadows
You can’t count the herds, indeed,
Unridden horses he feeds.
There, on one side above the river.
There’s a herd of raven, and in the other.
A white horse and a bay horse with shimmer.

It was lucrative and rich,
In the land of Zhideli Baisyn envy of each.
The old man didn’t have one:
He was childless, say everyone.
If you have no children, a soulmate,
What’s more unfortunate than your fate?

If he had a younger brother,
It would be an endless wonder.
If he had an older brother,
He would have thanked heaven rather.
He had no brothers,
And he was sad and bothered.
He was lonely and childless.
But distantly related to him,
Was Kultai, the kinship reminds us,
What a kinship was that?
When his eightieth year get at,
With his eyes fixed on the east,
Bai said:
— I will leave the world.
As I came into the world, alone,
Holding hope, the unfulfilled one,
I have no children with my wife.
Fate gives me no son in my life,
And my treasury goes to strangers,
And my livestock will be devoured by strangers.
I have no son, I have no son,
I have no son!
That’s the cause of trouble one!
All the people with many children
They all look down on me when come,
They speak with a heavy hand…
Before the God I shed my tears,
I curse myself a lot without fear.
My friends shun me.
My work is useless.
My body is weakened,
Suffering from an illness.
And I walk like a blind man.
My bones are softer wax than.
My guests are mock me behind my back
My life is bitter and empty and black.
A child is my dream,
And things are not what they seem.
Childless man is indebted to everyone.
I can’t live without one,
The rumor going around the nomads tells that
Baibori has no children,
And I’m so hurt by such words
I’m so sick to my bones.
I have no fun in the world.
I wish I had never been born, he told!

Baibori shed tears,
Day and night he grieves.
To all who saw his deep sorrow
And heard his complains,
Felt sorry for him again and again.

Let’s talk about Kultai.
Kultai had a slave.
What was the slave’s fate?
From the morning till night,
She collected dung cakes dried.
God gave a son to the slave.

Baibori became the father of that son,
Adopted the baby that’s mean.
Celebrated with rich parade,
With goat-fighting and wrestling.
And he said:
— Even though he’s not mine,
I have him for my pleasure, this time.
And named the child Ultan.

That’s what this Ultan was like:
His chest was as size of a hut,
A caravan could enter his throat.
His neck was as strong as a rock,
Bat eared like a shield block.
His nose flattened, as if broken.
A mark that a foot would close on,
A place for a hearth.
The mouth is huge and fangs in his mouth,
Like sharpened blades.
The chin is like a cliff.
The gaze is sullen and threatening.
Every eye sockets a zindan, unflinching.
That’s what this Ultan was like.

And Ultan, when he grew up,
He became strong enough.
And began call them fruitless,
His elderly fathers —
Baibori and Kultai
Chasing the old ones out of the yurt:
«Wealth and honour are not for fools.
You need not a cattle» he says.

Analyk, Baibori’s wife,
Weeping from dawn to dawn,
Complaining:
— The years go by,
Trouble follows us, we cry
There’s no joy for us,
No joy for us.
If you listen to me,
If you approve of my command.
Then to Azret Sultan together
We should go to worship him,
And the saint will not refuse us
He will give a stronghold and a shield to us,
He will perform a miracle
He will renew our flesh…
And if the God forbids…
On the road of the prairie
We will die with you.

Bai agrees with his wife,
Takes one sheep alive,
And scatters the rest of the cattle,
Crying over his fate,
He prepares to go to a long journey,
He opens the treasury chest,
Gives away half and takes the rest.
The old man gets ready the camel,
He loads down it with luggage, apparel
Covered it with rugs and mats.
The old Analyk weeps for that,
Life is pretty, shitty.
They decided on Wednesday to go,
They can’t look at anything, just so.
Tears are streaming from their eyes,
Their faces became pale.

The whole aul is gathered at that hour.
The people follow, grieving,
They beat with their fists neck lower,
How would we live without you and your wife?
They say with deep sorrow.

At the time when the sun goes down,
As if someone build fire, red brown.
The sun as a golden swan,
Goes down.
In the twilight at one of the hills
The people, like Pleiades, stand.
-Have a safe trip, good luck!
May your dream come true!
To the departing one they shout.

Analyk weeps bitterly:
— My tongue is dry.
A hundred splinters in my heart,
And they cry.
Both of them have tears in their eyes.
Their eyes have become mother-of-pearl.
Bai moans with his wife,
Like a cawing raven in the night.
like a shelterless crows of the lowland.
And the old couple wander,
Talking about their child,
And there’s no other worry.
The desert is here, the desert is there,
And there’s no other way.
Forty days’ journey through the sands,
Greedy wind the trail covers up.
No shelter in the vast desert,
No trace on the dry ground.
In the dark night there is not any light
No light flickers on the road of night.
No place for old couple to rest.
The sun dazzles them by day,
The sun scorches them.
The path seems endless.
The poor old man made a vow
To walk through the desert on foot now,
He walks barefoot
Through the wild sands.
And his wife followed him, but,
Their feet are hurt by nick and in blood.

So, they walked for many days,
And they were exhausted and blaze
The old ones couldn’t stand anymore.
They had one day to go.
A day journey left to mazar
They saw the Hajis coming.
Bai said to his wife:
— Show these people our goods,
Divide into half
And give to them the half.
They’ll take the silver and gold,
With humility and gratitude he told
And help us by pray to be hold.

Here is Azret Sultan’s mazar.
The old couple have spent seven days,
They have spent seven days on the stale ground,
And they wept and prayed for a sign.
Waiting for a sign but there was no sign
And they continue their trip.

From one shrine to another,
And from one holy place to other,
They wandered, thrown off balance.
In Kara-Tau there were countless tombs.
Who will bring them good news?

And the Baba Ata tomb
In those distant times
Was simple and poor, but nice.
There was no slab on it,
No fence around it.
The walls were not soaring, strong,
No shining blue the dome.
In two or three days the old men,
Made the grave so again,
As it still stands now
In the midst of an arid desert.
The goal of the paths and the delight of the eyes.
To the craftsmen all their coffers
They have paid for their labour.
And once more through the steppe they wander.

They looked ahead,
The mountain ridge in front of them.
Here they climb the mountain, then,
Here they step on the pass.
They look out from afar,
The lake sparkles from far.
As if mountain crystal were sparkling,
The hot springs are spurting.
The water was waving and the lake is darkened,
And darkens the elms,
And a thorn in the spring
A little lower than the elm.
Tangled, intertwined.
How to get through this knotting
To the icy, clear water?
Old couple weeping and shouting
More than camels, forsaken,
And the thorns pierce their shoulders.
Suddenly, the sticky rod,
Sink Bai’s forehead,
They looked at there,
Oh my God, There’s no blood!
— A miracle! A miracle! — shouts Analyk.
— A miracle! A miracle! — says the old man.
It’s true:
The blood is not flowing!
She ripped her headscarf,
The shawl is torn,
And rag after a rag, are going.
To the spirits of her ancestors she sacrificed,
Shocked,
The twigs she carefully dismantled,
Tied them all in a row,
She raked the stones into a pile.
And, having performed an ancient rite,
She made a fire by the water,
And spread a palace for the night.

Facing to the East,
Baibory performed the namaz.
And with his wife
Lay down on the palace.
The pilgrims are fast asleep,
And the fire of gold grieves,
The dawn rises in the East.

Here on the grey donkey on that side
Following the Lord’s path, a man rides,
Seems to be a Saint.
He clutches his staff with his hand,
His coat on his shoulders
With gold brocade is covered.
And his turban is like snow.
Pushing the old couple aside to walk through.
He speaks like a holy man:
— I know, I know as well as you,
What you two cripples need.
You have left a peaceful home.
From grave to grave you visit
In the dry steppes you’ve wandered.

For offspring you have prayed
To the Saints and the God.
The Saints have such a life:
Each of them is dealing with their field.
But we had to gather a council,
For we all have no rest.
From your lamentations and your tears,
You have stirred up everyone in paradise.
I made a suggestion at that time
That we might come to your complaints,
To help you, barren ones, in your distress,
To give you two children,
A daughter and a son.
Eighty-eight righteous Saints
And a hundred thousand without ten,
The Shaykhs supported me, then,
The Allah, has listened to your prayers,
And bent ears to our prayers.
Hey, poor man, open your eyes!
Open your ears, you wretched one!
I am Shashty Aziz, sent down from heaven,
I say: your firstborn son is the future hero even.
I give him a name — Alpamys
No fire can burn him,
No lead can pierce him,
No sword can cut him down,
He’ll be young all time.
And give his sister the name,
As Allah has commanded — Karlygash.
Now get up, Baibori,
Wake up your Analyk
And say thanks to the Creator!

Immediately from the bed,
Baibori and his wife bowed before the Saint.
Exclaiming: Thank you!
God has showered us with gifts,
And thou, helped us with this!
And they bowed down before him,
And a piece of brocade coat
They tore off for a talisman,
And the Saint melted away like smoke,
Like the morning fog…

And the old men went home,
With the light heart and light step.
Analyk followed her husband,
Looking around like a young wolf,
And Analyk was expecting,
She couldn’t eat what she was used to,
And she said: My darling,
Analyk is in trouble:
I’m starving, I can’t eat mutton,
I see here’s the kazy and karta,
But I can’t eat, I’m nauseous.
You were once a batyr,
You were full of great strength…
I wish you’d shoot me something,
That will give me the new breath
I would eat a leopard!

And then Baibori cried out:
— Is it true, Oh light of my eyes?
O, my layer of rag!
Your belly is not empty?
Let me take my gun,
I’ll shoot the leopard than,
I’ll satisfy your whim!

And they went into the thick forest,
Followed the path the longest,
And into some wild land,
Where the green light is thickened,
And on the narrow forest path
They found the trail of the beast.
A leopard roared in the distance;
The Baibori came close,
With his rifle behind the tree trunk,
The bighorn beast lurked, and shrunk,
The spotted beast appeared.
Eyes as if made of glass,
The forehead was rounded like a bowl.
The beast had wild power,
But now it’s time is up.
A gunshot shook the old forest,
The bullet entered the beast’s heart.
Baibori, in his haste.
He runs up with a knife in his hand.
He turns the beast upside down,
He sharpens the knife on the gun
With his sleeve rolled up,
The carcass is spread out,
He drenches the blade with blood,
He rips open the hide with the knife,
And he takes out the entrails,
And the heart and liver he gives to his hungry wife.

Analyk bakes them in the fire,
And the smoke tickles her nostrils,
In her mouth a saliva runs,
She can’t wait any longer;
She takes the meat, half-cooked,
greedily she eats it,
She tears it apart,
Now she is warm enough,
She became for forty years younger…

They kept on their way back,
They reached their homeland,
Together to their aul they returned,
Into the land of Zhideli-Baisyn
They were welcomed by the Konyrat tribe,
They were welcomed by both old and young…
And then they found out
That their herds had round out
And that their chests are full of heavy,
Like in the old days, the golden treasury.
Analyk walks, heavy,
And full, and white, ruddy,
Like she is younger.
Analyk plays with her hips,
She moves smoothly,
She’s like a mare and filly.
And in her womb the child is moving,
To come out of the dungeon though.

Nine months, nine days
A son lays in her womb,
Pouring like sweet fruit.
She has reached the day,
In her heart the pain,
Hit like a dagger.
She clenched her teeth, melted pain,
Analyk laid down.
To the dried-up stream bed,
The living water came out,
And it boiled and flowed,
Like a spring stream from the mountain,
Analyk gives birth to a baby, there is no doubting.

And rejoiced man,
Invited guests to that one.
The guests came crowd after crowd,
And for them nine hundred sheep slaughtered.
Ninety foals, ninety camels the bai shot down,
In ninety yurts people eat meat and drink.
Bai entertains his dear guests,
He presents them with fur coats.
He gives away young horses,
And sheep and goats,
And he lost count of gifts.
Without present no one leaves.
Whoever doesn’t get one thing, steals another thing.
And two years later
Another child came into the world:
Analyk gave birth to a daughter.
A daughter like the moon,
And her beauty shone,
And her braid was flowing,
And you’d give your soul to look at her.
As Shashty Aziz commanded,
They named his son Alpamys,
And his sister, Karlygash.
Let childhood be carefree
Let the children grow up happily!
We interrupt the poem here.

At the same time, there was Sarybai from the Shekty tribe. He also had no children for a long time. Many years prior to birth of Alpamys and Karlygash Baibori talked to Sarybai many times, and both agreed on follows:
— If God bless us and gives children, a boy me to me and a daughter to you, we would do matchmake, raise them and marry them. Our dreams would have been fulfilled and we would have left this world happily.
And so Sarybai’s wife gave birth to a daughter. They named her Gulbarchin.
Then Baibori and Sarybai, became matchmakers, ate a sheep’s fat together and smeared flour on each other’s faces. So, this custom originated from them.
But one day Sarybai thought:
«My future son-in-law is his father’s only son. If he dies, my daughter will have to become the wife for evil Ultan. Since it is not too late, I will flee to a better place and take my daughter away. And he moved away with all Shekty trib’es people from Zhideli Baisyn.
Alpamys was ten years old. He began to run the tribe.
Alpamys was very strong. Boys with whom he happened to fight died of his blow. And people were afraid to let out children from yurts.
One day Alpamys was looking for some boys to play but found no one. Then he saw an old woman sitting on an umek and weaving loom. A boy was sleeping beside her on the ground. Alpamys came up and started to wake the boy.
— Get up, let’s play! — he said and pushed the boy so hard on the side that he died instantly.
The old woman got up and said to Alpamys:
My only son has died, she says,
You are the one to blame for this.
Than to ruin innocent children,
You should bring your Gulbarchin.
Sarybai didn’t give you his daughter
And he left his native land.
And in response Baibori’s son said:
— I can’t understand your saying,
What did you say? Say it again!

All that we have told you above,
The woman told to Alpamys.
And he ran home as a gazelle,
He ran as fast as he could.
As he ran something he shouted;
Tears were burning his cheeks.
And with his resentment last,
Into his father’s yurt rushed.
And with a single blow he smashed
The giant chest.
The best of the chain mail he took,
A gigantic bow, also took,
And a cinnabar spear,
A sword of gold on his belt,
A shield that combined to his sword and helmet.
And then he ran to the meadow.
To take the horse of best.

But running away from him
The swift-footed steed,
None a single he caught.
And, as before, they are free
To kick up flying dust
And trample the steppes’ grass.
Alpamys was taken by sadness,
And the batyr wept in longing.
But he saw a chubby horse
Not far away was that horse.
Oh, what an ugly horse,
An ugly, lousy horse!
A horse without a tail and without a mane!
Here the horse said to him:
— Come and get on me.
You won’t find a better horse than me!
Alpamys: — I can’t get on you,
Knights are not honored to ride such a horse.
And he grabbed horses with his bridle,
Look, the same horse is in front of him again
— Put the bridle on me,
I won’t get away from you.
I am the gift of fate,
And, Baichubar is my name.
Two strong, invisible wings
The Mother Earth has miraculously given me.
What a bridle-wielding dzhigit!
But the horse still stands,
It’s bumping a head on shoulder,
And with itself furious,
Then the batyr picked up horse
And he threw it away to the ground,
But the horse was intact with skill outstanding,
Like an iron horse was standing,
Alpamys, though he was known,
Even the people nurtured him,
He could think wise.
So, he thought: «The God has judged it so.
Isn’t the fate sending me this horse?» —
And he looked at the horse in the light,
He put a saddle on it, tight,
And set off on his far journey,
Without telling anybody.

The chain mail around his chest,
And on his belt a golden sword
Rattle together with his spear red
The dzhigit rides menacingly.
Baichubar flies like a bird, embarrassingly
Under the horse the ground trembles.
In one day a twelve-day ride this horse takes,
So, took much in twelve days,
That another horse in a year won’t take.
The horse, like a ramrod under the saddle,
Stretched straight, followed to travel,
As the rider looks, there is dust above there.
Fire blowing across the steppe, he sees from afar,
The troops are encamped there.
Innumerable ranks they were
With the striped silk banner
Half-moon shape placed on it.
He saw behind the troops
A whole city of colored tents.
The road was straight to go there.
A slab could be seen by the road,
as snow white and wide,
And there were writings on that slab.

Alpamys leaned towards it,
There was a news of multitude.
To understand this letter,
One must remind here:
Over there is a large Kalmyk camp,
The strongest man in it — Karaman,
He has long been in love with Gulbarchin.
He came to Sarybai
And said to him: «Sarybai,
Give me Gulbarchin as a wife!
And also pay me a tax,
Ten thousand cattle, as a start!
Sarybai couldn’t give up his daughter,
Karaman was no match for her!
Gulbarchin didn’t want to mess her life,
And didn’t want to become Karaman’s wife,
She decided to fight,
And on a miserable afternoon alone
She decided to run from home.
But her native Zhideli-Baisyn places
Was so far away as happiness.
And then on a grey stone
She wrote the following:
«If Alpamys will pass this steppe,
And saw what here I wrote,
And read what I write down here,
And he would know about my breathe.»
After writing a letter,
Sarybai’s daughter,
Gulbarchin turned back,
She couldn’t breathe because of crying
And ran all night,
to catch home she was trying.
The God saw this writing:
«Why not to help her the happiness finding?»
To the letter Alpamys approached,
The letter to him all explained.
Meanwhile, Gulbarchin
To her father Sarybai returned,
But he was not happy with such end.
Karaman comes to him again,
Says the Kalmyk giant:
— Give me my bride,
Otherwise right now and here,
I’ll slaughter your cattle all over!
— And he gnaws his knees,
And roars like a wild beast,
So cold was Karaman’s iron face.

Alpamys, the letter read.
The justice decided to revert,
He was brave and strong-willed,
And could not let to his enemies
Give his dear bride,
His beloved Gulbarchin.
Running among the steppes the road,
Was led, wide and straight,
And his steed rushed him forward.
The horse swallows like water the space
through the steppe him rushes.
If a Kazakh people meets a dzhigit
They would give honour and show the road,
They would tell him how in a steppe foreign
Sarybai’s daughter lives,
Can we believe her writings?
If a dzhigit meets a Kalmyk
He’ll have to fight,
And the fight will end with cut off head!
Alpamys is holding his bow,
He wriggles like a serpent,
He has a sharp sword as dragon’s tongue
He holds it in his strong hand,
He raises it up to the clouds
And threatens with fury his foes.
For a long time didn’t get off his saddle,
It’s as if he’s stuck to the saddle…
There was a column dust in the distance,
It was the Kalmyk army countless
Covering the face of the earth.
Alpamys became so angry,
He is dressed with bells on.
Then says the batyr:
— Here I attack alone;
The whole world is against me,
Hundred sorrows, afflictions for more seven time,
Perhaps an hour before the end,
I turn to thee, the God.
I beseech thee in tears.
Please help my mother and father.
For my Karlygash sister
They stay without me
For our wounded people
And the Zhideli Baisyn in whole!
I trust you my horse, too.
On the field of battle
There is countless army.
Help to a lonely man,
My enemies surround me with a gun.
No matter how loudly I shout,
I cannot help here with it.
I don’t have enough strength,
To defeat my enemies.
A man can win the girl’s heard
With help of and through the spear.
So, the strongest can be with her.
Humiliation is not for me!
And, on the stirrups,
Alpamys, his horse whipped,
— «Alatau!» — he shouted,
«Alatau is the clan’s cry.
Alatau as the thunderstorm roar.
The vast expanse it shakes,
To the blue mountains it reaches.

At this very hour, at last,
Gulbarchin to her home entered.
And her parents asking:
What is wrong with you,
And where have you been?
Then Gulbarchin here heard
as thundering, Alpamys’s shout.
-Your batyr has started a war.
Do you hear, my dear a lion’s roar? —
Say to her father and mother
And gave hugs and kisses to her.

Alpamys, like a wolf on a sheep invading
On his enemies swoops down.
The crowds are split in two by the sword,
A sword of a light blue blade and golden hilt.
And with strain cuts down the dzhigit.
Under the sword only blood hisses
And heads fly off from the shoulders.
Under the blizzard of hot arrows.
But Alpamys is unharmed.
Baichubar is in sweat.
Like a haze over the sand,
Like ligthning on the fly,
In one edge, and to another,
Alpamys goes back and forth
On his way chops enemies.
On invisible wings soars it.
Quick as a reed cat,
As swooping down on greedy rats,
Deftly beating his enemies Alpamys.
And then one of the enemy
wounded by a spear on thigh
With a long groan,
To Karaman’s camp took a run,
And between the tents rushing;
He fell down in front of the Khan,
«O khan Karaman» he murmured,
“You are an exemplar of the legitimate authority,
Thou are in thine powerful right hand
Keep a whole moon-like world.
You should know the new
that from the distant steppes
A mighty batyr came here to you.
He is still a young dzhigit.
But he rules a bloody feast.
And your whole brave troop
has been slaughtered by him.
Before my eyes I saw him still.
Look! He wounded me in the thigh.
You need a bucket for my blood,
Otherwise cannot wound …
Oh, my khan! – he is not a simple one.
He shouts: «I’ll take Gulbarchin!»
Why do you let him here ride down?
On his horse our brothers tramp down?
Beat our brothers with sword and spear?
Karaman became very angry.
— Where is my raven horse? — he shouts,
— Where is my war sword? — he roars.
And he’s driven by a thirst for vengeance.
like a camel in spring he roars,
like a wild beast he howls.
Wildly he looks around.
his feather cap puts on a head,
at one jump gets on the saddle,
his black eyebrows furrowed in anger,
He rides his raven horse,
as an arrow up the hill rushes.
The corpses under the hill cannot be counted,
And so manys of them are scattered!
And Karaman shakes his blade,
Black rage poured and,
Karaman wildly mooing like a bull,
And his mooing was like a thunder,
And his mooing through the earth rumbled,
And spread through the steppes and plains.
And, hearing the terrible sound,
At the tinkling spring
From hands her jug dropped Gulbarchin
And started crying:
— In an unkind hour.
God sent me to live here.
My beauty has ruined me.
And my love, Alpamys!
The dzhigit’s armour will not help,
His life cannot save.
So, he could fall in an unequal battle!

Saying these words
As a bird to the battlefield she hastens.
In front of Gulbarchin, like the moon,
In full martial steel a dzhigit appears.
But Alpamys has no time here,
As for the battle he prepares:
He is holding the red lance,
on his foe is fixed his gaze.
And Gulbarchin is soared and cried,
by his inattention she is offended:
— He doesn’t look at me
My dear dzhigit,
But let his star be high
than all the stars in the sky!
If fades away his star, then
with no power, I’ll fall down.
Turn around, Alpamys, look here!
If you burn out in flames there,
Then it’s time for me, too!
to burn out same as you.

Alpamys replied back to her:
— If you feel sorry for me,
My light, then don’t stand there,
In the hour of battle in front of the horse.
This is a bad sign, Gulbarchin.
You should to go home, Gulbarchin!
It is not allowed for weak women
To lead out of battle the men.
If it’s predicted by fate
To be together for two of us
The links would be connected
And no one can separate us,
I will not die in our hour of need.
Be patient and wait!
Wipe away your tears and go home!

And when she heard these words,
The best words in the world,
Gulbarchin turned back
To wait at home for her sweetheart.

— Where is that Kazakh? — Karaman shouted,
— The Kazakh, on his horse spotted?
I am the great Kalmyk Khan,
To dust and ashes I’ll turn him!

To the heavens he looks up
Alpamys, a young fighter
— It’s a shame to flee from the field of honor!
My father instructed me,
That I should not engage in battle,
Coz I am still weak and young.
My father’s right, there’s no doubt,
And fault is only mine! — he thought
But I’m here, I will hold it,
And I will not leave.
Even I’m small, but I am brave!

And while he was all these grieving,
And while he was all these thinking
And was blabbing on,
And while his horse was standing
The ground with its hooves digging,
At this very time, all of a sudden
The enemy drove up to Alpamys
And he grabbed with a club
Alpamys on the head.
That anyone would fall from the saddle
And in the grass lay dead,
Even Kap-mountain would equal with the ground,
If it got that grab.
But Alpamys was unharmed,
Only his helmet was bent,
Also the horse under him trembled
And carried away Alpamys among the steppe.
Karaman, therr trail chasing,
his black horse was whipping.
«Hey, dzhigit, get away from him,
Don’t expect mercy from him!
Take a dim view of him!
If not with a spear, then with a sword.
He would try to catch you.
It’s impossible to escape him at all!
Beware, hey Alpamys!» —
The wind whistling in his ears.

Alpamys begged the horse:
— Don’t be angry that I’m chasing you.
Carry me away to open spaces,
Lift me up to the heights!
Let me see my native land!
Stand up for my share!
If I should die in the battle
To the ravenous crows
Don’t give my corpse,
Bring it to my mother and father.
Say the: Here’s your murdered son!
Don’t ask people for honor
If you come back alone
Without me to Zhideli Baisyn!
Karaman whips the stallion.
Sweat on the horse neck runs down.
Then became angry Karaman:
— Why are you sweating?
Why are you shivering?
Be damned, you raven horse!
You are lagging behind!
Or is my weight the reason for your delay?…

The horse flew like the wind on the steppe.
— Karaman’s horse is a raven,
The horse flew like the wind on the steppe,
Baichubar flew faster:
He stretched out in a string,
He tore the air like an arrow,
The wind whistled loudly in ears
Both to batyr’s and horse’s.

— The load is heavy! — said Karaman,
And he tore the chain mail from his shoulders,
And threw away the heavy sword and its holders,
And his lash, being in rage,
He tossed his spear after the sword.
from the race the thunder is rumbling
the earth around is shaking,
And the unarmed Khan gallops
On his raven horse.
And that the khan became unarmed,
The chub horse understood at once —
The chub horse, Alpamys’s horse.
It slowed down as if it was caught up,
And Alpamys struck a blow,
Like a falcon that sprints down.
Here he gives a battle cry,
«I’m not yours!” and goes away.
And, gnashing his teeth,
And whipping his raven horse,
Karaman, like a wolf follows
Rushes after hot pursuit,
He is obsessed with anger and longing:
«I wish I could pay him back right now!
I wish I could fight with him at least once!»

The batyr strikes again
And strikes with his sword the same,
And then he strikes for second time.
Hete the khan lost both hands,
Falls off his horse rolling over,
And holes the steppe with his helmet all over,
And under the sharp sting of the spear
Khan squeals like a pig.

Alpamys shouts here:
— To the defeated, death and shame!
The spear helps to get the girl.
Whoever is strongest takes her!

On the surrounding hills
Two nations stand making walls,
Yes, they were standing made up wall
People were watching this battle,
They say: «Was the khan not smart at all,
He shouldn’t throw the weapon.
When people go to court,
Take the eloquence with them,
And when they go to fight,
They take a sword with them!
Karaman was reckless!
Alpamys saddled his horse.
He was trembling with excessive strength;
Like boiling metal in a cauldron.
The rage was still bubbling in his chest,
And his teeth glittered, between weathered lips.
Like a wolf in the midst of a flock,
It looked around and growled.
Everyone was frightened of the young fighter.
Baichubar almost danced under the saddle
From its neck sweat dripped.
The horse its bit was biting and gnawing,
There was a terrible clatter of its hooves
Its chest like a goatskin was swollen,
And it was hot like a frying oven.
Little by little the horse cooled down,
And then to his bride
Alpamys batyr hurried.
A stranger and the dearest running to her
With the happiest news
«Your betrothed is jumping and galloping,
The brave batyr, Alpamys is coming!
Come out to meet him soon!»

Dudums, trumpets are piping, blowing,
Alpamys is being honored.
The people, rejoicing, beat their tambourines,
And all praise his triumph,
They elect him as their ruler-khan,
They took him to the golden tent,
And soft carpet for him laid,
Gave cushions of the feather,
And they please him in every way.
Cooks are scurrying in the smoke,
They make a fatty, smelly pilaf,
Chopping, slicing, frying, and baking.
Here the girls run after the bride,
Accompany Gulbarchin to the bridegroom.

Lightly moving, cheerful and slender,
She flew in like a swallow.
Like a doe, modest and quiet,
She sat on the groom’s right side.
Here boiling teapots
And on the patterned tablecloths
Plates with full of treats,
White sugar, honey in bowls,
Kazy, karta and zhal-zhaya served also.
Everything a guest could wish for
Everything is at the wedding today.

Gulbarchin is pouring tea,
She treats the guests,
And unintentionally her beloved,
She burns with the fire of her eyes.
The young people are playing games,
And when the night came,
They were too tired to continue.
They all want to sleep and can’t wait
Drowsiness glues their eyes.
The guests are scattered in their tents,
They’re asleep on their pillows.
The wedding hops overtook them.
The canopy was in the golden tent,
The downy bed was behind it.
The groom came to the bed:
Such a walk as a deer at dawn.
On its way to the watering hole.
And near among the steppes.
The steed is a dashing steed.
And the bride hesitates, and she is slow,
Like a white swan and is pale.

The bridegroom says to her, jokingly:
— Where is your wealth, dear?
Where’s your treasury golden?
Let me achieve my goal!
And Gulbarchin answers him:
— Whatever wish! Take everything!
I am your wife, from now on.
You are my lord forever!
And like a falcon on a game trapping,
He involves his Gulbarchin.

Alpamys, having punished the Kalmyk Khan, left his father-in-law Sarybai to rule in these parts.
After thirty days of marriage party and forty days of revelry, Alpamys decided to return home and having gathered the local people, requested permission to leave. After consulting, people blessed him and let them go. Sarybai saw off his daughter and son-in-law on their long journey.
They were followed by a caravan of forty camels loaded with the treasury and a gold yurt received by Alpamys as a dowry.
When Alpamys reached his nomadic pasture, he found out that in his absence Kalmyk Khan Taishyk had stolen the old Baibori’s all herds.
Loss of all cattle grieved the old man more than the loss of his loved one. He became ill with grief. And when Alpamys with his young wife appeared before him, he said:

— Get lost, Alpamys!
Get out of my sight, Alpamys!
You were born for nothing!
From your side lack of protection.
No safeguarding against misfortune.
Khan Taishyk, that dog cursed,
Took away all my property.
I have no more treasury!
He has stolen my herds,
He has stolen my flocks.
Appoint a chase, bold face,
Bring back all that the Khan has taken from me!
Otherwise, the famous Baibori
won’t be your father.
If you won’t get back flocks and herds
You’ll be held in slavery
and rot in a foreign place!

And Alpamys answered his father:
— It hurts me to hear all these.
I’ll follow Taishyk,
I’ll bring back your herds!
Also, your treasury I’ll seize!
If not, I’ll perish in a foreign land,
I’ll be lost, I’ll rot in the dungeon!
I’ll cover on my horse a saddlecloth,
I’ll ride to Taishyk’s land-stan,
But if only I’ll leave for chase
The villain Ultan will grab you at once.
I’ll cover on my horse a saddlecloth…
But your fate is watching at you,
Soon, very soon your time will come:
You will perish, lonely man,
From Ultan’s clinging hands.
But five mares is his price,
And he’ll take his own completely!
And while the batyr was talking,
Has inflamed his own ardour.
The batyr became as furious as a lion,
He straightened up and grew furious.
Now he’s ready to march,
He’s rightly dressed in iron.

Being furious Alpamys
Rejected Gulbarchin’s complaints
And left her on Thursday.
And Alpamys gathered his clan,
And said: «My dear clan!
I’m going for a long journey,
I’m going to a land of foreign.
To punish Taishyk’s army,
I’m leaving my father and mother behind,
My sister Karlygash,
And my pregnant wife.
I ask you to take care of them!
I believe that when I am in leave,
You will keep away of trouble from them,
You will not give their treasuries to enemies.
You are my family, their stronghold and guardian,
You are the ultimate in.
And if my Gulbarchin
During my absence shall have a son,
Name him Jadiger!
Alpamys saying these
Left his native country,
Started on his six-month journey.

The batyr took long rides,
On his mottled horse,
Above his head, the sun
Shining like a golden crown.

On the night when Alpamys left home for chasing, Taishyk Khan had a dream. Being worried by its meaning, in the morning the khan went up the tower and addressing the people said:

— Listen here, oh my people!
I had a dream last night.
This dream weighs down my soul.
What does it presage for me?
In these dark times.
We should be wary of sleep, too.
I dreamt of a black camel.
It rages before me,
Its black saliva spitting,
And my eyes were streaming
With tears as heavy as lead.
And in my dream, I saw if
My wreath rolled off my head,
And that camel for pieces trampled it.
A lion then in front of me appeared,
It tore down my hometown,
My country it seized
And from my wife I was has part.
all men of country he enslaved,
Their wives became widows bereaved,
And with his heel to the ground
Powdered my confidents into the sand,
And my slaves sent fleeing.
I dreamt of a formidable batyr,
His handsomeness astonished the world.
He was wise, crafty, and clever.
In his thick eyelids he hid his eyes.
I see him approaching me,
He rides a chubby horse,
And I hear in my ears
The stomping of the horse’s hooves.
Tell me, whose hour is stuck?
Blood flows from my eyes.
The scarlet poppy blooms in the mountains,
If slip off, it turns to ashes.
At the mercy of fate all of us!
Isn’t this the fighter Alpamys?
To knock off my crown has planned,
Our army and all of us,
Trample into blood and mud,
And make a dreadful end for me?
If I have all my treasury
And threw at the batyr’s feet,
Would it do any good?
If I take all my horses
And let him drove them away,
Would it do any good?
Or if I marry my daughter to him?
And say: «You are my son-in-law, now»
Would it do any good?
Some way or other
Is your Khan’s would be tear apart
by the enemy like a lamb?

People answered here to Taishyk Khan:
— Oh, dear Taishyk Khan! They say: «Dreams go by contraries». Don’t pay attention. Nothing untoward would happen to us. The dream has no ill meaning.
The Khan replied:
— No, this dream shouldn’t be ignored. Go and think over, tell us how to avert trouble.
People did not know what to tell the Khan. Then an old woman named Mystan spoke:

Three hundred years old,
For dinner ate blood boiled,
Cursed like blazes all people and the world,
From the first day was cursed by God,
Eyes and gaze full of hellfire,
And four inches in height,
With mouth like a pot’s slit throat,
Viper’s tongue and horny head,
And with cat’s ass and a dog’s tail.

Then turned to Khan and said follows:
— O my Padishah! How comes that you want to marry your only daughter Karakoz to your enemy Alpamys? I have a son,

He is dishonest person,
on his head he’s got scabs,
Pus drips down his cheeks,
Mixed with snot and saliva.
If you marry your daughter to my son,

Your sadness will be turned to ashes,
I’ll bring to you, tied up Alpamys.
Seems, I’m the only one that can support in your fate.

Khan answered her:
— All right! Bring me my enemy bounded, and I will marry my daughter to your son.
Then Mustan ordered forty multi-coloured tents to be erected outside the town by the roadside. She ordered a girl to sit in each of them. And each girl should wear a jaulyk, the headdress of a young woman. And each of them should have a bottle of vodka.
And Mystan by herself went out to meet Alpamys, chose a stone by the road and sits there.

Alpamys galloped the steppe across
And he saw Taishyk’s camp not far.
He was thirsty, looking for a spring,
Look — there’s an old woman Mystan here:
Rolling on the ground,
Weeping, wailing, and grabbing his horse.
— Hey, Batyr! Have some pity on me!
Have pity! Have pity on me!
Forty fortunate sons
I have breastfed my own.
Khan Taishyk ruined me,
Khan Taishyk killed them all.
I bloomed like a rose in the garden,
Now I turned to ashes so sudden.
I’m as grey road dust.
I was like a free falcon,
But Khan Taishyk broke my wings
And threw me into the feather grass.
I prayed that you would come,
For me to pay off the khan.
Your horse is stately,
And your sword is heavy,
Your armour is made of iron.
I ask you to rest,
And then you will go on your trip.
My dear falcon, get down from your steed!

She wants to cheat him,
She pours him vodka.
— Here’s water: fresh and cold…
If you’re thirsty, drain to the dregs!

Batyr drinks it,
But he feels something wrong,
As water seems not water,
Can be honey, but also not.
But it burns the blood,
It burns his throat…
And an old woman is standing beside him,
Whispering and muttering something.
— Look, there are forty tents over there!
Forty widows are waiting for you in there,
Forty widows of my sons,
Forty young ducklings.
Sleep near them, have some rest!
They are lonely long since!

And the dzhigit believed the witch
To the fictitious sacrifice of evil and insult,
And gave his stirrup to her.
But the host’s horse is wiser:
Baichubar got angry,
It kicked the witch as hard as he could.
It knocked her to the ground.
She laid there in the dust.
And then she rose from the ground,
And hissed like a snake,
Cursed like blazes the shrewd horse:
— What a screw you have, my son?!
It’ll put thee to shame,
It’ll go poorly on four legs,
And leave thee alone in the midst of enemies,
So, you’ll be hunted down by them,
Your horse will bring to shackles!
You are my grass — mountain andyz!
You’re my grass — lake jalbyz!
Listen to me, Alpamys!
Tell you what, handsome one!
Get yourself another horse,
One of pure blood and stately bred,
And kill the mottled chubby one at once! —
That’s what Mystan said!

Alpamys was very angry,
He bit nails and frowned eyebrows,
And decided to exhaust the horse.
He was young and trusting.
He drew his sword from scabbard,
And swung at the horse…
He would have killed Baichubar,
He would lose his share,
But the evil was not done:
Forty elders came down from heaven.
The elders averted the blow,
And Baichubar alive so.
The sword penetrated deep into the earth,
It was both heavy and great,
And the batyr from the flinty earth
Derived out the serpentine blade,
And he wept bitterly afterwards,
Ashamed of his faithful horse.

Back arched like a serpent,
And humpbacked beak bent,
This witch is running forward
To call her imaginary daughters-in-law:
— Come out of the tents,
Hurry up, forty widows!
A young guest has arrived!
Offer the guest your shelter,
Serve the guest a hot plov,
Give him a drink of the spring
Refreshing water!

And at this hoarse call,
In colorful dresses all,
Here run out forty maidens,
Forty slender fictitious widows,
Embracing the guest in their arms,
They set him off gently from the saddle.
Carry him in their arms to the tent,
One the soft, flowery carpet,
Sat him down with downcast eyes.
And on the feather pillows,
Vodka is served one by one,
They smiled and sang.
Scarlet lips, eyebrows arched,
They’re all beautiful, well-matched
And one slimmer than the other.
Forty girls, forty widows
From nomadic lands and towns
They’re all tall, befitting one another.
They’re all same age.

Among them was Karakoz —
A khan’s daughter, a joy for hearts,
The honorable among roses,
The precious among diamonds.
And now Alpamys appeared before her.
She realized that him,
Is the real batyr.
And while the feast was still going on,
This batyr became most dearer to her
Than her mother and father.
Almost being in love, to her sweetheart,
Three times she approached,
But she didn’t say a word.
A hundred splinters run into her heart,
And Karakoz went mad.

And the evening hour has come,
The stardust poured out.
Alpamys was drunking at this time
The fortieth bottle of vodka.
And he was drunk.
— Drain to the dregs, says Mystan.
— Drink up, Batyr! You’re not drunken yet!
It’s stuffy here, — she says to him
And lifted the felt.

A hot and stuffy wind blew,
Alpamys fell down and fell asleep.
Like a camel in a resting place,
Sleeping, snoring, lying motionless.
And the evils, brothers of Mystan,
They’re all jump around him,
Laughing at him,
Enjoying their tricks.

Karakoz comes up to him
So slim and white in the face,
She drove away all evils,
She said, hoarse with tears:
— Alpamys, why did you drink?
You, Batyr, have ruined yourself!

Then ordered Mystan
To dismantle the tents at once!
One tent was like a tulip,
The other two were like a cherry,
This one was red, another was bluish,
And the sixth, like a plum, a lily,
And the seventh of these tents
Was green as an emerald,
And the eighth, like a colorful garden…
They put them all on batyr,
They piled one on top of the other.
They piled the fortieth —
A black and smoke-red tent,
And Mystan with her hand
Over the batyr, a fire lit.
The flame is swirling, smoke is puffing up,
And the batyr lies unharmed,
If only they could know,
That the fire has no power over him.

People saw from the heights
From the Tasty city towers,
The fire was burning down over there,
The guards were running away,
They saw a dzhigit in the fire,
And they took him out of fire.
And while he soundly sleeps,
With a strap tied hundred times,
They drag him to show to the Khan,
And Mystan rushes after them.

And Taishyk rejoiced:
As he saw in his dream the mighty batyr,
And now before him appeared,
With a rough, raw belt bounded
Tied and without strength a man.
And here the old woman twists by a snake.
— Are you satisfied, my Padishah?
Was my plan bad?
The enemy is now in your hand!
— I am pleased with you, Mystan!
Said responding cheerfully the Khan.
He invites guests for a feast,
He asks to serve the tablecloths,
The drums and tambourines are beaten also.
To the trumpet-drummers — to sound the trumpets,
The hangmen — to kill Alpamys!

The hangmen chop Alpamys,
But break their swords,
They shoot at point-blank range
At him with their flintlock rifles.
But it doesn’t kill him, either.
down the throat they ram a poison,
They want him in water to drown.
But they can’t poison him,
Also, cannot drown,
Nor could they wake him up.
Batyr sleeps like a top,
And snores at the same time.
— What can we do with him? asks Taishyk.
I know executions basic, since I was a child
I understand many in executions,
But never seen anything like this,
I’ve never heard of it,
That man hasn’t ever been harmed
No by fire, no by sharp axe,
Neither snake venom nor water.
So, how can send a batyr
To the land of the dead?
If we don’t kill him,
we’ll have a big problem,
My terrible dream may come true…
Who can answer my question?
What shall we use to kill the prisoner?

The Khan’s daughter Karakoz,
Wants to save Alpamys;
«Send away the hangmen!” She says.
“Hangmen will not help here.
Leave Alpamys near me
For seven days and seven nights.
I will make an end of him!

The father was suspicious,
And didn’t believe his daughter,
So, the Kalmyk Khan decided.
In a dark dungeon to keep Alpamys.
In a thirty-nine and three arcs deep
With as a jar narrow-mouth.

The lid off — pushed off!
And now as in the dark night
In a deep hole, as black as a coal,
The earth’s guts are gleaming.
And when you look, you can’t see a thing

Along the road in a noisy crowd,
To lock Alpamys in the dungeon.
Kicking and spitting at him
Rolling on the ground
Like a cannon ball.
And drop him head over heels
Into the pitch dark of the grave.

But, flying down into the darkness, Alpamys,
Like a pitcher in the well, was hovered.
And went down slowly as if walked,
Because in the earth inside
The forty forefathers
caught him in the air,
Brought him down into the darkness,
All straps on him untied.
And to the sky then returned.
And the poor dzhigit woke up,
He looked around — it’s darkness damned,
He realized that he was in a dangeon,
That he was trapped by the enemy,
And was snared by Mystan,
That his armor didn’t help him,
And his horse was taken from him,
That by a cursed witch
He had driven himself to his grave.

And then the batyr cried out:
— Shame and woe! No patience, no, indeed.
No chance to escape,
Nowhere to wait help.
I have lost my stirrup,
My time has turn out badly,
And I’m no longer alive.
Without my father’s blessing
I left for my journey,
And now infamous I’m perishing.
On my mother’s breast
I won’t no longer bow my head,
I’ll never look at my sister again,
I’m condemned to rot in a dungeon.
In the zindan I lie immovable,
Buried alive.
It’s hard to die in the dark!
I weep deep in the ground.
Is it for that, dear mother,
Did I suckle your milk?
I’m hungry, and I’m cold
At the bottom of a dark hole.
Will I see the sun or not?
Will I come out of here or not?

Suddenly it became light in zindan
As if it’s dawn under the ground
As if the sun had risen
A certain light, like a diamond
Shone in the depths of the earth
Scattering arrows of light.
To Alpamys in that bitter hour.
The spirits of his ancestors descended
You will not die, they said.
A lie is powerless against the truth.
They said these words
And dispersed like a fog.
And they disappeared, and then,
Look here…
A cat comes to the dungeon
Carrying a flatbread in her teeth.
And Alpamys calls it to him:
— Come closer, kitty-kitty!
And the cat purrs and sings
And a flatbread to him it gives.
The dzhigit ate the bread,
And now he’s fed.
The cat amuses the prisoner,
Dancing, meowing and singing to him,
He’ll never get bored!
Whatever he wants,
The clever cat for him gets:
Kazy-karta and zhal-zhaya,
White sugar and honey sweetest.
And it’s not lazy and invents
Every day new games.
The prisoner grows stronger day by day.
And while he gains strength,
Let’s see what’s about Baichubar, the horse.

The good horse waits for its host:
Whoever comes closer in frontside
The horse bites and tears
Whoever comes closer in backside,
The horse kicks and slaughters.
No one can handle the horse.
Whether they serve barley to fed,
Whether it’s fed with wheat grain,
The Baichubar won’t eat anything,
Whether it’s watered with
Fresh and spring water
The Baichubar doesn’t drink,
It’s out of it.

A whole army of giants
Came to the horse,
They want to saddle it even by force,
Baichubar doesn’t want a saddle,
Here comes countless men of muscle,
And the mighty and faithful horse
Drags them back and forth,
It beats one against the other,
It drags them backwards and forwards,
And their ribs crackle, crunch,
And their heads are flying like cannonballs.

Then Taishyk Khan became angry,
He gathered foundrymen and locksmiths,
He called the blacksmiths.
And erected an iron shed.
It was neither large nor small shed,
And it was exactly seven arches wide.
On the gate there was a steel lock.
They took Baichubar on a chain,
And dragged into the shed by force,
They don’t let him be released into the steppe,
They don’t let him even move a foot,
They keep it under lock day and night.
They don’t give much fodder,
They mock the horse,
To break its proud spirit,
So that it’ll ride the khan’s and be saddled
And the culprit of all trouble,
The wicked one, Mystan,
Appeared before the khan’s throne,
And said: «O great khan,
My Padishah, you have made a vow,
You swear an oath in front of everyone
To make Karakoz my daughter-in-law.
And marry her to my son.
The hour has come, my great Khan,
Let us join in marriage our children!
To deceive your meek slave.
Don’t even dare,
You’ll never cheat!
The appointed time has come.
Oh Padishah, dress your daughter!
If you don’t mention the scabs,
Nothing wrong with your son-in-law?
You’ll be his father-in-law.
Dear Khan, he deserves honour!

And on hearing these words,
Everyone said: — She’s right!
The Khan replied, sighing:
— It was a vow made without deceit.
I’ll fulfil my vow,
But give the term nine years,
Let them get stronger, let them grow up!…
When the children are in their twenties.
We’ll have a wedding feast
With goat-fighting and wrestling,
For now, we’re matchmakers.
Kindness is repaid in kindness,
So, I am a reassurance to your all deeds,
And a shield for your old age.
Trust in my khan’s word,
Be safe, now go now!

He has persuaded her,
He saw off her,
He opened the door before her.

Day and night are quick in flight.
My tale is as true as the truth.
And now my dear friends,
I’ll tell you about the khan’s daughter.

Here she comes to her father.
— I come to you, father, to talk
Give me a yurt with safe shelter,
I’ll put it in the shade of apple trees,
In the shade of cherry and poplar trees.
Give me a hundred gelding goats
To your beloved daughter,
Let them enjoy the garden greens,
And let them play for me.
And I ask you, also, for favours.
Give me forty friends,
Girls of my age.
In winter and in summer
I’ll have more fun with them
In the meadows, steppes and mountains.
In the steppe, dear father,
There’s no temptation for us.
I’ll live there for nine years,
And then I’ll back home.
If you can’t call him a «scab»
I have no other way,
Let my soul be content!
I will marry him anyway!

Khan is pleased. Without further ado
He’s ready to give Karakoz
Forty girls for services,
Forty yurts and hundred goats.
And he orders at Tas Bulak
To mount yurts in a tight circle,
And that not a single dzhigit even,
Could interfere with the games of girls,
No one should trample the maiden’s meadows!

Year after year passes,
And Karakoz lives in the steppe,
And in the summer heat swim forty girls.
Splashing with crystal water…
But Karakoz is not happy,
And she is pale and misty,
Like a young moon.
She lost sleep and peace,
And suffers in thousand bitter pains,
She sheds torrents of tears,
All day long among the steppe wanders,
Looking for someone to help her in her trouble,
To tell her and show her
Where is the captive Alpamys-batyr,
Where in a dungeon-penitentiary he dwells?
Wandering through the steppes, mountains
The inconsolable Karakoz.
And behind her footsteps,
Forty friends rush in her wake,
And in their gazelle’s eyes
One can see surprise and frightaware:
What does she want in the mountains, steppes?
Is she well or not?
Should we call for a doctor?
Or maybe a fortune teller?

The maidens came to the stream,
They came in a line like martens,
Suddenly jumps out of the bushes
Bursts into the maiden’s circle…
Mystan’s son, with a club in his hand,
Bare-footed and wearing a cap,
A cap sewn with a deliberate purpose,
To keep people don’t see the scab.
Flattering to his girls:
— «How beautiful you are!
He’s tied with a handkerchief like a grandmother,
He is itches and walks shaky.
And, looking at him sadly,
You are fool! — Karakoz sighs,
Only a husband as you are, would bring such shame!

The girls take him to the shore,
Tear his handkerchief away,
They knock off his cap
And they laugh seeing the scab.
And the fool runs away, losing his cap,
From the mockers far away beyond Tas Bulak.

And so in the bosom of their native land,
The girls spent seven years, as planned.
The years flew by like a dream.
It was their golden years, passing as a stream,
It was like playing the accordion.
They didn’t see their families
And no one’s ever been there.
Even with her mother and father
Karakoz wasn’t keep in touch
She was thinking about Alpamys so much.
She gave herself to love.
If only she could find him!
To feel the grace of meeting!

Let us talk about other matters.
Namely about the gelding goats,
The ones khan gave to his daughter.
Keikuat is the shepherd of the goats.
He grazed them for seven years in a row,
He watered them and fed very well,
So that, like silk their wool shone,
That each one was like a horse.
And each one had a gold ring
Around their neck belling.
The Khan-father for the wedding feast
Wanted to save those goats.
And one day it happened:
At the zindan, where Alpamys
Was imprisoned for seven years.
A goat got into a rage,
It ran as fast as could,
And knocked down the heavy lid,
And hung by its horn on the lid
And a little bit later fell down.

Keucuat came running to the dungeon,
He shouted, gasping for breath with tears:
— Hey, do you hear me, Alpamys?
Give me the goat back!
Otherwise, scolding the shepherd,
Will be angry Karakoz!
Alpamys says to him:
— I’ll tell you this, Keikuat:
Even though I don’t want any harm to you,
But I won’t give you back the goat.
You’d better all your goats
throw here to me in a row
One by one every day!
I’ll strengthen my body and spirit,
I’ll straighten up my mighty camp
And I’ll leave this dungeon
Where I have spent years in suffering.
I will not be in debt to you,
I’ll make you happy
I will help you in everything.

Keikuat got angry and said:
— I would like to know how you can make me happy, lying under seven layers of earth? But, I may seriously take off the vestige of your life!
Saying these, Keikuat rolled the mill stone to the dungeon and threw it down.
Alpamys caught the mill stone and threw it back out of the dungeon. The mill stone buzzed over Keikuat’s head with a humming sound and the shepherd was frightened to death. Then he said to himself:
— I will fulfil the prisoner’s request. He is a mighty batyr! If I shall die, I will die, but if I stay alive, then Alpamys will reward me.
And Keikuat throw one goat to Alpamys on daily basis.
Once Keikuat came to the dungeon and called:
— Hey, Alpamys, I have no more goats; yesterday I threw you the last one. What shall I do now?
Alpamys answered:

— Here, take it! This is a horn-surnai
Made of goat horns and bones!
Take a sit on the road and play,
Play whatever you want!
If they’ll ask: Who made it?
You’d better resort to a lie.
Just say the truth,
To Karagoz alone!

Keikuat, took the horn-surnai, hid in the roadside bushes and played on it.
Karakoz was passing by with her friends. They sought him out in the bushes and asked:

— Where did you get it, say it?
Who made it for you, say it?
Will you answer us or not?
But Keikuat was silent.

Then the girls threw the shepherd to the ground and started to stamp him, asking:

— Who made you this surnai?
Where did you get it, say it, do not hide!
Otherwise, you will go to the other world!
But Keikuat is still in silent.

Then they lit a fire and dragged the bound Keikuat into the fire, saying:

– Where did you get the pipe, you scoundrel?
Who made you that surnai?
Tell us, or burn in the fire!

And in reply the shepherd from the fire:
— I am not afraid of your threats!
I will tell everything only to Karakoz.
Karakoz, come closer to me!
Karakoz, listen to me!
I don’t need this game.
Send these witches home!
I’ll tell you everything to you, alone!

Karakoz chased her friends away,
She took him out of the fire and said:
— You mark my kindness!
She asked the shepherd a question:
— Where did you get the pipe, tell me!
Who made you the surnai?
Keikuat said to Karakoz:
— I will answer your question.
There is a prisoner sitting in a dark dungeon,
He has no equal in strength to him,
He is a real dzhigit in spirit,
From sheer boredom, he got this work:
From the bones and horns
Of your hundred goats,
Sitting in a hole at the bottom
He made this surnai,
He made it and gifted to me
Alpamys is his name.

The khan’s daughter blushed,
The khan’s daughter turned pale,
In her chest her heart ached,
The heart fluttered just like,
The turtle dove is trapped.
Karakoz says: «Lead me, there!
Hurry up, Keikuat!
Show me at once
That zindan where the batyr suffers.
Bring me peace and patience!

And she followed Keikuat
She ran aspired
Towards her hidden goal,
Faster than the arrow feathered.
Without touching with her light foot
The yellowing grass of the steppe,
She flew to her beloved.
The sun failed to burn
The narrow maiden’s shoulders.
And heavily sighed the steppe.
Haze heat trembled in the distance.
Sets so high the sun,
in the fiery dust surrounded.
And on the rusty skin of the earth
Was gaping the vent of the dungeon.

Karakoz and Keikuat,
Standing by the dungeon,
Looking down,
Leaning and calling:
— Are you there, Alpamys?
— Yes, I am here!
Karakoz says:
— Seven years,
I have lost track of you,
Only about you
All seven years I’ve been grieving,
And torrents of tears shedding,
I want to meet you,
And my name is Karakoz.
I am Kalmyk Khan’s daughter.
Teach me how to help you
And what to do to this world return you?
Tell me, how can we get rid of a trouble?
I’ll do everything for you!

Alpamys said in reply:
— I won’t forget your worries.
But you can’t help me.
And no one can save me,
Except Baichubar, the horse.
Don’t you know where it is now?
And Karakoz answers him:
— Baichubar is locked in an iron shed,
With iron door
And a steel lock of three-pound,
And sentinels are walking around.
What shall I do? Give me here some advice!

Then Alpamys threw his clothes to her and she caught them.
— Put it on you, said Alpamys. It keeps my smell which the horse scents and remembers very well. Tuck your hair into your cap, smear your face with mud and pretending as a dervish walk to the leeward side of the iron shed so that Baichubar can smell me.
Karakoz did just that.
As soon as Baichubar smelled his host, it tore down the iron wall of the shed, dispersed the sentries away, ran up to the imaginary dervish, smelled and rejoicing, started galloping around the dervish.
Then Taishyk Khan came out to the dervish.

And the astonished Khan said:
— Which countries did you come?
And who are you? Aren’t you Alpamys?
Are you his ear or his eye?
Have you not been among us?
Your features seem familiar to me!

The dervish says to Khan:
— Khan, how can I be Alpamys?
He is seven times younger than me,
Zhideli-Baisyn I have visited once
I used to drink koumiss in old days,
I used to be a guest of Kazakhs.
In those distant times
Baichubar was three years old,
And as a six-month age, it was small,
Because it was very ill.
It had wool on it like felt.
I brewed the herbal concoction,
whispered a little, and spat,
The horse got well soon,
As an illness if was taken off by hand.
Then it became smooth and frisky,
And now it’s so skinny
Standing in front of me,
About its life complaining bitterly.

And the Kalmyk Khan says:
— It’s unyielding as granite,
Ninety men with its hooves
It has slaughtered
And bite through its teeth.
He’s as fierce as Alpamys.
Give a service for me,
Tame the horse for me!

— All right, said the dervish,
I can tame the horse,
But I need your generosity.
Provide me more than one rope
Namely, provide me forty ropes.
Give me sheep’s fatty tail…
You’ll give me forty such fatty tails,
You will open a forged chest,
The biggest of all chests,
And I’ll accept from the khan’s hands
Of Alpamys’ spear and sword,
And a chainmail from his mighty shoulders.
And I will warn you,
That for seven nights and seven days
No one should disturb us.
On the eighth, I will tame the horse,
It will be more docile than a lamb.

Khan Taishyk gave Karakoz — the imaginary dervish all that he requested. When the khan left, Karakoz loaded weapons and sheep’s fatty tails on the horse and took it by the reins.

And then the dervish commanded.
(In truth, the khan’s daughter)
To the townspeople declared:
«Go away from the streets,
Leave all corners,
Otherwise, you’ll be killed
by this horse – by Alpamys’s horse
it’s not just a horse, it’s a fire-horse,
so, you may be crushed to death».
And to avoid the evil.
Everyone disappeared, like sand took all water,
All hid themselves wherever they could.
And left no one behind,
So, the city became like a graveyard kind.
And Karakoz took the reins in her hands,
She got on the horse,
And the horse took her to zindan.

The horse brought her to zindan.
The ropes are tied to each other,
To the saddle tied one end,
And the other into zindan is slipped down,
And, passing through the darkness,
To the captive batyr it slides,
And to the very bottom falls.
«Isn’t it a trap or a trick?» —
Alpamys thought that moment.

He saw he is not alone,
Forty forefathers were all around him,
And Shashty-Aziz was among them.
Forty pairs of their saint hands
Fastened the rope and hold.
And now the batyr, like a tub, floats upward.
The harness is tightened,
At the well’s mouth Baichubar was dashing
And it digs the dry sand,
Strains with all its might.
The khan’s daughter looked down the dungeon,
To meet the prisoner she gave her hand,
— Honor and respect to you, dzhigit!
Alpamys came out into the light.

So, the batyr left zindan.
He swayed, standing on the ground,
Drunken with freedom and fresh wind,
By the light of the sun he is blinded.
He said thanks to Karakoz,
Accepts from her hands
His steel sword as a shield.
And his armour and his spear,
He girds himself with his sword,
And his sword and his spear.
Eats the sheep fatty tails,
The tender fatty he enjoys,
And this fragrant roast!
In front of batyr the horse plays,
It bends its neck in a ring,
It pokes the batyr in his palm,
It trembles and burns like fire,
And lits as a candle over the earth,
Calling for Alpamys to march.

And in anticipation of the storms of battle
Alpamys looked around him.
The river flows as wise discuss.
The white-faced Karakoz
The batyr kissed gently.
And smiled at her brightly,
To the saddle he sharply jumped,
Galloped away to far gray-haired.
The feather-grass is blowing in the wind,
The dust all over the road…

At last, Taishyk Khan realized
That he was faked out,
Like a mad bull he roared,
He tore his collar on him
And from his throne he jumped,
To beat the drums he commanded,
And trumpeted louder and louder,
And he gathered from all sides
An army with hundred thousand blades.
He sat on his throne in the mid of the square,
His look of menacing and face is severe,
Fear hangs upon Taishyk…
And he said follows:
— Oh, my men of muscle, my strong men,
The doom hangs over the nation.
Draw out your swords:
Alpamys is coming!
But I won’t be afraid of him,
As I am protected by the gods.
My men of muscle, my strong men,
My giants, my hangmen,
I will charge the strongest one
To meet him in a duel.
If one can strike hardly.
Baichubar horse, will be yours.
With a mighty hand it’ll be calmed down,
Let it cluck like a hen!
Tell me, who among of you,
Wants to fight against Alpamys now?

And Batyr Taimas, first comes out,
He’s mighty and broad-shouldered,
He has a club in his hand,
At his hip there is a chain
Thirty batpans sword on it hanged.
When Taimas sees a mountain
He doesn’t mind even a mountain,
And with his sword he swings
And then with his club strikes,
A thunder rumbles through the mountain,
And then crumbles to stone ashes.
He was the Khan’s right-hand man,
This elephantlike Taimas.
He could win any fight,
Like a hungry wolf to the end.
Without rest, day and night,
He could strike the enemy merciless,
He’ll catch up a fighter in the field,
He’ll sweep him off his feet, twist him into an arc.

In front of the khan, Taimas bows
And says: O my Padishah!
I am ready for the fight.
And I’ll say without hide
I’ll bleed and melt the enemy before everyone’s eyes.
And as a reward for my feat
I’ll get Baichubar!

The frequent trampling of hooves heard:
It’s Alpamys rushes to the battle.
And Taymas flies to meet the enemy,
Like a kestrel flies to a game.
His shield above his head holds,
And with a wild voice he roars
And threatens with his club:
“I am the strongest in the world!”

As the brave falcon Alpamys,
As the white falcon Alpamys,
Falling to dale down from the sky,
He rushed in short cut
To attacking the foe,
And not giving him a second chance,
He did not let him swing his club,
He cut off Taimas’ head.
A torso without a head
Continues its way across the steppe,
The head rolls in the grass,
And glisten from under the eyelids
Stared whites of eyes.
Here Kalmyks rushed in crowd
After the rolling head.
Alpamys swooped down on them
And killed five of them,
Cut down six of them
And wounded the other ten.