Chapter XV

“Where is my fair horse,

My good racer?” [Geser asked].
He opened the drawer,
Took out the calling lure
Which had thirteen tunes,
Took out the bent lure

With twenty three bends.
He opened his drawer
And took out the calling lure
Of thirteen tunes,
He turned it

To the Altai, the great land.
He came up to his main
Golden and silver pole
And played the thirteen tunes,
He played calling [his horse].

Standing nearby his chief pole
With silver patterns
He took the bent horn
With twenty three bends,
Turned it towards the north

And played the twenty three tunes
Calling  [his horse].
And then
His grey horse
Perceived that call with his clear mind,

Perceived  it with his clear senses.
The horse that was warming up his back [in the sun]
In the middle of the Tamsha plain
Instantly sprang up to his feet.
He jumped up digging

Nine acres of the land,
He pressed his ear which was
Thirty feet long to the ground,
With the other ear, which was
Thirty feet long, he listened to the high Sky.

“My dear daring master
With his sharp ear
Heard the far-off strong enemy, did not he?
With his sharp eye
He saw the nearby strong enemy, did not he?

Since my dear glorious master
Is calling me
I should not remain here.
The thirteen she-stags on the northern slopes,
Graze in your Altai,

Put on weight,
Graze in your Khukhei,
Become still more stout!
As for me
I was born a colt on the wish of Solbon,

I am a racer for the man to ride on my back!
How loudly he is calling me!
Thirteen she-stags from the northern slopes,
Put on more weight!
As for me, I must make haste”, [he said]

[He] made his way towards home
And rode  to his native land.
The thirteen she-stags from the northern slopes
Said the right word:
“If we get parted with you

Whose gain shall we become?!
Whose booty shall we become?!
We’d rather go together with you even if we die!”
And ran following him.
“The thirteen she-stags,

If you follow me
And go down to the valley
You’ll be torn up to pieces and eaten
By those who have tails, by the dogs,
Or you’ll be shot with the arrows

Of those who do not have tails, by the men.
You just graze quietly in the Altai!
Until I’m alive
The Altai will be rich in grass
Which will be over two feet  long,

You, graze
In this good grass!
Until I’m alive
The cool Khukhei springs
Will boil up  with rich [water].

If I die, if I pass away
They will get dry
Up  to  the bottom!”
That is why
The thirteen she-stags of the Altai

Went back to their Altai
To pasture  there.
And the stately grey horse
Five hundred forty feet in length
Threw back

His beautiful head,
Pushed aside
His  fluffy  tail.
And then
Rode at a slow trot,

[Pieces] of turf as big as a cup
Were thrown off as far as three thousand
Five  hundred feet. He rode very fast,
[Pieces] of turf as big as a pot cover
Were thrown off as far as three thousand

Five  hundred feet. He rode so fast that
From under his forelegs the fiery lava ran out
And from under his hinder legs
The water in foams ran out
And put out [that lava].