Well, my friends,

Idle strollers and

Indolent ramblers

Be on your guard,

The time has now come

To turn our eyes

To a twisty, wide, white trail,

The time has come

To open the holy path

Across the eight ridges…

Enough of the florid style, the useless chants-

It is to describe the coming fights,

From the northern

Stormy sinister sky

Disaster struck…

Along its horizon,

Along the mountain ridge,

The bald-headed black raven

Has begun its flight,

Croaking loudly…

Nine great storms,

That were on their way, have now fallen

Onto the sorrowful summit,

Onto the hapless crown

Of the Middle World,

For many nights and days continued

The drumming and the humming,

The crashing and the cracking,

The rattling and the rumbling…

The proud owner

Of the fleet of foot black horse,

Born standing on the border

Of the clear, white sky,

Nurgun Botur the Swift,

Sensing trouble

Could not settle

With his siblings

In his safe shelter,

Lost his taste for food

In his hospitable home

With a warm hearth…

He pricked up his ears

Foreseeing that soon

There would be a back draught

From above,

There would be a chilly draught

From beneath,

To and fro,

In a nasty anticipation of the times ahead

When his words uttered

Would turn into thunder,

When his spoken words

Would resound and echo…

Arriving unnoticed

From the sinister northern sky,

Turning up suddenly

Wringing my neck,

Born in the age of enmity

Ehekh Kharbir, Three Shadows,

The night stalker,

The deceiving twister,

Whose whirlwind turns everything upside down,

Mighty Timir Jigistei,

Would destroy

My great name,

My renowned glory,

I should keep my eyes wide open,

And be ever vigilant.

He leaned against his best sergeh

Decorated with arched ornaments and

A carved speckled bird

Perched on top of it;

For three nights and three days

He stood furious, staring with angry eyes

Glistening like a spearhead…

The precious lark of the

People of the Middle World,

Supported and guided

With reins from above,

The copper-breasted darling

Of the people of the blessed world,

The most beautiful

And lovely blue bird,

Dear Aitalyn Kuo

With an eight-bylas-long braid,

Was puzzled: