Yuri Starostin

Veteran Poet - 1,950 Points (4.07.1972.)

Djangar 11 Song About The Defeat Of Ferocious Shara Gyuryu Han Of The Shulmus - Poem by Yuri Starostin

11 song
About the defeat of ferocious Shara Gyuryu han of the shulmus
So it is arranged: it had before itself
The blue ocean called the Bumba*,
That ocean crossed the state,
The sea tend a surf to that ocean;
It rose between the twelve mountains-canines
And has settled down on a slope of the grey-haired ridges
In the estuary of the Glass Sandal-wood tree river;
It was- a palace of great Dzhangar - is that:
It cost the seventy saiy * of the human families.
There were the eighty folding lattices in it,
To have painted them by the gentle red paint,
Have decorated them by the tusks of the large elephants,
Have greased by the the fat of the virgin wild beasts.

The sharp rafters, stamped by the canines of a lions,
Were on the ten hundreds on each of them
The peaks of these rafters have been made
From the equally growing sandal-wood colour trees.
The palace doors - from the mighty sandal-wood colour trees,
The smoke holes - from the odorous sandal-wood colour trees,
The rods under the felt are laid out by the silver,
That is pure exactly, as the shine of Dzhangar Bogdo!

The thousand- shutters fence has grown around,
The eighty sculptures of Dzhangar Bogdo
Were on its each gold shutter.
And the shutters admired by the a skilful carving,
Representing the twelve bogatyrs,
The elected glorified sons of the Bumba
With their like- lion Hongor at the head.
The gold helmet is at everyone on a head,
And the drawn sword is on a hip, speaking,
The ten fiery blades burn in a sheath,
The gold shank is clamped in a firm arm.
The terrible blades are bared on a vershok, -
It seems that the fighters have prepared for the fight!

So the grateful people of the nice country
Have been immortalised the fighters by the carving,
The elected sons from the tyumen of the people,
Caring the native country by a strong wall
From the insatiable ones that are glad their native country
To devastate, like an plague infection.

The coast is green lies there to the south from a tower,
There the blue ocean is boundless lies,
The ten times of the ten thousand chapels stands.
The white sloping hurul in the most middle,
The pious Djangar rich hurul,
Is unseparable with the goodwill faith, stand,
The uncountable shebeners* lived there,
Under the protection of the Djangar faith there,
And dividing nothing on mine and your,
Glorified in the songs the joyful life.

The spaces of Bogdo have run up to the north,
The han -state of Bogdo is unable to count, is populated,
Not finding room within the country.
The seventy two rivers flew on the country.

This fertile country was called the Bumba,
The clear, eternally blossoming summer country,
There a winters is not knowing, there all is blissful,
There the live is immortal, all is imperishable.
There the joyful world of the happy tribe,
The delightful feast of the eternally young time,
The country of the fragrant, strong people,
The promised country of the athletes.
It shine in the unfading beauty.
There and the rains are similar to the sweet dew,
The freshening world, shined in the pre-dawn time
By the an unextinguishable dawn.
The waves of a green grass are infinite there.
The free, easy days are rapid there.
A people spend a time in a feasts, do not live in a misery there.
If it will be to ask: 'Who is the possessor from the people
Of this country? '- to reply there:

'Being three-years-old - destroyed the gate
Of the three fortresses till the base;
And on the fourth year - destroyed the gate
Of the four fortresses till the base,
Broken the staffs of the forty flags;
And being the five- years-old -
Broken the staffs of the fifty flags, destroyed the gate
Of the five fortresses till the base;
Reached the sixth summer, - destroyed the gate
Of the six fortresses till the base,
Subordinated han Zulu to his power,
The lonely orphan on this earth;
In the seventh summer of the life - destroyed the gate
Of the seven fortresses till the base
And won the han of the east steppes -
The malicious mangas, before whom the enemies trembled;
Taken the power in his arms from the arms of Shikshirgi;
And planting his hearth in his loneliness;
And not cherished in the afternoon, not caring in the nights;
Not possessing even the rest of a tail,
To can kept below - the orphan, -
By the rare mane to can kept above. ¹
The eyas weak eaglet, in the lamp down still, in the down,
Soaring under the sun alone...

But and the aggressive son of the not simple husband, -
The descendant of a straight line of nice Zula-han,
The nice Uzyung-han unique son
Entered in fight even with the most death;
Given the happiness to the native land, dispersed the enemies;
Named Djangar; having a reputation for the round orphan,
Become the dream of the twelve western countries
And the sleep dream of the seven east powers,
And the expectance of the lords of the four parties, -
Whose name - Djangar majestic, great noyon
Everywhere it is glorified, both close and afar,
It is given in the earth ears by the wood echo '.

And will tell still the questioning men then:
'Sitting in his white rest
Under the silk baldahin, of the colours of a dawn,
And pressed his elbow in a lavri pillow *,
And looking at the earth by a furious eagle, -
Djangar owns this imperishable country,
By this immortal, blest country! '

The yellow tower rises over a steepness
On an ocean coast that are more white a snow,
On a matchless slope of the mountain ice,
In the joint of the seven sacred seas.
It stand on the gold base,
Stand on the forty buttresses in the shining,
The forty columns support it,
And the cleanest chindamany* decorate.
Harmonously the steps run, leaning on the lions,
The red glasses of the windows burn, as a fires,
They flare in the frames from the red sandal-wood trees.
The dome is topped by a sceptre from the silver,
And the bumbulva is decorated by a fringe,
Whose gold machres a wind blow.

If it will be asked: 'Who is from a people
Hold the tower? '- the answer will be right:
'Accustomed the racer to struggle of athletes,
Accustomed the spear to amaze a vicious enemies,
Accustomed, similar to a bowstring,
His body to every possible deprivations;
Passing the eight senturies, with a snow on a head, -
Old man Shikshirgi hold the tower since an ancient time,
Before whom the enemies tremble since an ancient time! '

To the south from a tower, in a green valley, - there
The set of the gold-wall chapels stands.
The white sloping hurul is in the middle there,
Is unseparable with the bliss faith, stand.
It is- the hurul of grey hoar curls Shikshirgi.
The incalculable shebeners live
Under the protection of wise Shikshirgi,
Live in the smelling of the true faith,
And dividing nothing on my and your,
Glorify the joyful life in the tunes.

Washed by the sea dark blue water
And irrigated by the blue river,
Not finding room within the earth, -
Has settled down, lost in the distance,
The many -tyumen ancestral lands of Shikshirgi,
The blest ancestral lands of Shikshirgi.
His people are copresent to his happiness,
And all flourishes under his power.

Being easy, as an air, in the most foothills,
The marvellous tower is white from the far side,
The story have piled about that beauty,
Become the favourite reading of the twelve countries,
To the south from a tower, in a circle of the green glades,
The forty chapels stands, surrounding the hurul.
It is the hurul of a possessor of the mountain country,
And the five hundred shebeners reside there,
The meeting of the examples of the true faith is there,
And, dividing nothing on my and your parts,
Glorify the sacred, joyful entity.

The valley is visible to the north from the bumbulva,
The ancestral lands of the wise lord is visible,
His people are copresent to his happiness,
And all flourishes under his power,
Spend the time in the feasts, have not a misery there.
If to be asked: 'Who is the lord
Of this wonderful earth? '- to reply there:

'The unique son of the Altan-han rich man,
The light- face Altan Tsedzhi bogatyr,
The great Altan Tsedzhi clairvoyant, -
He has not suffer a lose in a fight yet,
He has not lose a battle ever once! '

There, whence the black, deep ocean rustles,
There is a mountain that Gyushi-Zandan is called.
The coast are good at a foot of the mountain.
There the tower of Gyushi shines, as a pearl.
The description of the tower standing in a calm
Became the favourite reading of the thousand countries,
The set of the magnificent chapels stands
To the south from a tower, in a circle of the green glades,
And the white sloping hurul- is in the middle,
Is unseparable with the goodful faith, stand.
At once to see: it is the richest hurul.
And the five hundred shebeners reside there,
The meeting of the true faith of the examples is there,
And, dividing nothing on my and your parts,
Glorify the sacred, joyful entity.

And the space has laid down on the north from the tower -
It is the Bumba infinite han country has laid down,
Not finding a room within the territory.
And the han country lean, disappeared in the distance,
On the infinitely darkening ocean.
The han reside, speaking, in the tower of Gyushi,
His people are copresent to his happiness.

And all flourishes under his power.
Spending the time in the feasts, have not a misery there.
If to ask will be: 'Who is from a people
The possessor of the towers and ancestral lands? '- to reply there

' Holding the power flag in the arm,
Proclaimed in the all hearing: '
All tribes, all riches, all countries of the earth are mine!

The unique son of nice han Uzyung-
The Djangar-orphan - the lord of this country! '

Called Bumba, the ocean-giant
Violently rustled in the feet at the mighty power.
Always on the three inflow and on the three outflow
Happened on its smooth coast in a day.
In the morning the water aspired towards to a wind
And put the scatterings of the chindamany:
At once a desires of a people were executed by them;
Only the evening time came ,
Just the inflow began in the other direction,
And there the water arrive, covered the coasts
By the set of the grains of a gold and a silver.

During a time of a midday when the heat grows heavy,
The wave with the foam at a mouth struggled with a steepness.
The grey-haired ocean was twisted, seized by the melancholy,
In the hundred ninety thousand berya of the depth.
There was it such wide that the silver- head balaban
With an crimson-white wing,
With the leopard heart, similar to an eagle in the fights,
The bird that can cover, soaring in the heavens,
Covered by the single wave the ninety berya,
The bird, the burden of a way is not terrible for that, -
Would take down the eggs three times during a way, -
But would not able to fly over the ocean,
The balaban would sink in the midway, -
So, called Bumba, the ocean is wide...
It was knowing to the lords the foreign country,
It had a reputation of the Djangar Bogdo ocean at them,
And only it dreamt for the envious hans.

And there was a mountain in the mound heads.
You will look from the west - the mountain reminded
The wings of a straightened grey-haired eagle,
It was similar outside the east
On the aged lion which has opened a mouth.
And the mountain middle part was allocated,
And was called the whitest mountain Manhan,
And remained the dream of the twelve countries...

This mound was god -elected,
Was powerful, seventy-han,
How many the powerful hans were there,
So many the big oceans were there,
All of this was the Djangar possessions there …

The spring months began there.
And Gyumbe, the well-known hero, has ordered,
To saddle a brown horse, precisely the copper,
To congratulate Djangar with Tsagan Saroy *.
Went together with Gyumbe, ringing by the armor,
His nice three thousand bogatyrs,
Have rushed by the noisy crowd, hastening more soon
To congratulate Djangar-lord with Tsagan Saroy,
With an exit from the colds, with a springtime.
Rushed along the ocean, and behind them in the distance
The dust rose, and
The open spaces of the yellow coastal earth have disappeared in a red high dust.

Just Altan Tsedzhi know,
That people gather at the han now,
Clairvoyant Altan Tsedzhi given the order,
That have saddled his Ulmana now,
And the bogatyr skipped on his valley,
Accompanied by his brave team,
The three-thousandth guards that hastened more soon
To congratulate the Djangar-lord with Tsagan Saroy,
With an exit from the colds, with a springtime.
Have passed the ridges of the sandal mountains,
Have shipped the steppe open space in a red dust.

All other yellow bogatyrs
Have left to a dawn afterwards behind them*, -
The earth limits were close to the teams.
Through the top, called the Toli,
The warriors rushed by the noisy, cheerful crowd,
Filling the seventy two rivers by the themself.
And the tyumens of the Djangar servants filled
The white mountain Jonhor, curve, as onions.

The fighters asked then each other,
The elect fighters from an each circle:
'Who is absent in the gold bumbulva? '
And the loud voice question immediately has sounded:
'Where is snatch -able Red Hongor now,
Where is the owner of a fine tower Bambar,
That is visible on the in-shore of the Sweet sea? '
¹ That is had no support (saying) .
To be continued…

Topic(s) of this poem: hero

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, January 19, 2016

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