leqsebi

VIOLET ON THE MOUNTAIN
At the spring he watched a herdsman.
That night, when it had grown dark,
He killed the herdsman at the spring,
Led away nine head of oxen.
This the Savs had soon found out.
A group of Savs came after him.
He shot eight times, he shot nine times,
He killed eight Savs, maybe more,
Forced the chasers to turn back.
He continued on his way.
A group of women too pursued him.
“These are good-for-nothing women,
How could such as they catch me,
Without underwear or veils!”
These as well he made turn back.
He continued on his way.
He came to the mountain pass,
Driving the nine head of oxen.
But for that accursed Vezden!
Vezden took a shorter path,
He was watching at the pass.
Vezden made his rifle shout:
It rolled Mirangula over.
He rose to his knees, dismayed:
“O God, judge of what is right,
Do not leave me unavenged!”
Mirangula’s rifle screamed:
He shot Vezden in the chest.
Now he has killed Vezden, too.
“Hat’! may my fate stand upright!
I will not be unavenged:
I have gunned down nine Sav tribesmen,
Led away nine head of oxen.
At’! Alas, poor Mirangula,
All that could be done I’ve done,
This will be my final journey!”
The curly hairs upon your head,
Mice will use them for their nests;
The skull that is inside your head,
Snakes will use to lay their eggs;
The ribs that are inside your chest,
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