اشعاري از حماسه ماناس به انگليسي - *طبرستان(اولین وبلاگ استان گلستان - گرگان )*


   اشعاري از حماسه ماناس به انگليسي   
Joust Between Manas and Kongurbai

If to the tourney Manas should come,
Kongurbai burned to meet him there.
He'd been touched on the raw, and would run,
Full of ire, to defeat him there.
He would fight with that man of blood,
Swore that he would unseat him there.
Clad in his shining mail, swart-faced,
Then bowed to his Buddhist god,
With his curved sabre about his waist,
Furions, waiting, the ground he trod.
Buckling round his breast his cuirass,
Kongurbai felt himself grow bold.
Armed with blue steel he showed them thus,
That he was not of the common mould.
Over the steel, to ward off the heat,
Kongurbai donned a robe of blue,
Them that furious knight, in a sweat,
Fearless, growled like a tiger too,
Challenging even gods in the sky.
This leather robe, with its border wide,
So well-tanned let no spear-heads by,
Had nine buckles all down one side.
For the great bristly boar full of strength
Nine leather loops all along its length.
This great gruesome and grumphy boar,
Having put all his armour on,
Having made all his buckles sure,
felt he was ready for anyone.
For his friend - one who secrets can trace,
For his foes - just a hatchet-face.
Skin like colour of long-boiled tripe,
Beard that would stick through a log, most like,
Eyes that were threatening, hard as steel,
Nose like a mountain spur stuck out,
Eyes that were blood-shot, cold and cruel,
Nose like a hump, and lips which pout.
Chest like a barrel both deep and wide,
Known by all on the Chinese side.
Hot as fire his steed Algara
Set to the gallop, and off he sped.
Ready at hand his weapons are,
Blue-steel spear-point sticks o'erhead.
Scaring everyone in his sight,
Showing off on his powerful steed,
With his spear in his hand clutched tight,
In his Chinese boots did he speed.
Golden toe-tips, and brazen heels,
At his waist his sabre he feels,
With his tall spear along he swings,
Stuck by his side his white dagger swings.
He is burning with all his might
With our Manas to take up the fight...



Our Manas, when he heard what was said,
Our Manas raised his lion's head.
In his eyes sprang up a flame.
And his wide brow shone bright the same.
Deep-set eyes 'neath that brow has he,
Wide-set eyes and wide cheek-bones see.
Nose like an eagle's beak has he,
Looks are threatening, brows grow free.
Warm thick lips, white teeth has he,
Chin as long and strong as can be.
Warrior's ways and stance has he,
Body as strong as a cedar tree.
Generous hands, but firm has he,
On campaign he gains victory.
Shoulders wide, and deep chest has he,
Straight is his spine, small buttocks swing free,
Knight's full might and vigour has he,
Scaring his foes to the last decree.
Nature's power within him has he,
He has no fear of death's decree.
Tiger's neck, like a titan is he,
Hardy and will not bend his knee...
Calm-browed he, and with shining eyes,
When the challenge is heard replies:
If we must joust, come here, he said,
Let us prepare, end think ahead.
All our horses have gone to the race,
We must look in some other place.
Send around, old man, said he,
Find some suitable steed for me.



Then up galloped Alimsarik,
On a marvellous steed so sleek.
This was black-headed Dzharmandai,
Found with Alma, the bey, nearby.
Would this steed suit Manas' book?
All the people crowd round to look.
Having seen him, the bold Koshoi cried:
Come over to me, my boy!
So the lad went quite willingly,
You young Alimsarik, said he,
Now dismount and just stand nearby,
He's somewhat heated, Dzharmandai.
Let's have him for the joust, he said,
Dzharmandai, with his coal-black head.
He's as slender as a Borzoi,
But in a bloody battle, my boy,
Or on rood, six months or more,
Or in the heat, or when rainstorms pour,
Day after day, he just won't give in,
Wont fret from saddle, nor split his skin.
High are his withers, but legs don't tire,
He will not burn, though he goes through fire.
Quiet in manner, but swift, my son,
He'll o'ertake hares if they turn to run.
Crossing the desert he knows no thirst,
Yet has strength when he hears yooour cry,
Like sone swift race-horse then will fly.
Bring him and saddle him now, my lad,
That's what I wanted to say, he said.



Lion Manas bestrode the steed,
Tucked his shirt in his leather hose,
All in order, he paid good heed,
Show a good face before your foes.
Mail of fine steel, with edging of gold,
Keeps out the rain, and keeps out the cold.
Links as small as a skylark's eye,
Links as small as he eye of a hen,
Links too small for the nose of a fly,
Links too small for a midge-sting then.
Look through them on a summer noon
Fingers through them you'll never see,
Links as silvery-white as the moon,
Cold round the neck and sleeve-edge free.
Buckles of gold, like the yellow sun,
Keeps out the arrows, every one.
Best of all, it has shortened sleeves,
Down to the elbows, and gives great ease.
Donning this mail he fears no foe,
Bold and strong to the joust will go.
Bowing to God, his helmet he takes,
Made by a master, with hoops and bars,
Four rings as one the coronet makes,
Crowned with a cone, like an upturned vase.
Ear-flaps are made of bright yellow gold,
Decked with most delicate patterns round,
Edged with steel well-hammered and rolled,
Level with ear-lobes they both are found.
On went this helmet, pride of the land,
Taking both spear and shield in hand,
Kongurbai and Manas went to joust
At Kokotei's great funeral feast...
Kongurbai was the Chinese chief
From Tongsha, from far Beidzhin.
Forebears were rich beyond belief,
Foes he made mincemeat, battles did win...
Like a drunk tiger, who nought can see,
Like a mad camel in winter days,
Fearless Manas, to the joust went he,
Taking his sabre stuck in his waist.
Then he called for an escort of knights,
Sitting upon his stamping steed,
Which was eager to join the fights


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