Unlike his Greek counterpart Prometheus, who was chained by Zeus, the supreme
god of the Pantheon,
to Mount Caucasus for stealing fire from the gods and presenting it to humans,
the Circassian hero managed
the feat without serious repercussions, discounting the slaying of the dim
giant.
Swarthy Sosriqwe,
The iron-eyed* darksome man,
Most intrepid knight.
The Nart horsemen were riding for plunder.
Sosriqwe lingered behind.
A Satanic blizzard beat down on our heroes
For sevenº days and seven nights.
“Yimis; Sosim; Zchindu-zchach’e; Areq-shu;
Wezirmej¹; Nisren-zchach’e;
Ashemez, Son of Ashe; Baterez, son of X’imisch;
Sibil-shiy; Toteresh, son of Albech;
Can any of you light a fire?”
None of our brave-hearts had a fire.
Their Mother’s Darlings² lamented:
“We are such fools,
To leave on a raid without Sosriqwe.”
As they were thus bewailing,
Sosriqwe arrived.
“Our Gilded Offspring,
Our Lustrous Progeny,
If you have a fire, kindle it for us.”
“I surely have.”
Sosriqwe made a huge fire;
The whole army stampeded;
Enraged, Sosriqwe scattered the fire,
And flung it into the river.
“Swarthy Sosriqwe,
Our Golden Issue,
The best of our best,
We beseech you.”
“I swear by Waschx’we, my Mentor,
That I no longer have fire,
Yet I will fetch it for you.”
He jumped on his Tx’we-zchey³,
Tore up Hereme Hill and looked around.
He espied smoke issuing from
An old tumulous tower.
He dismounted and crept thither.
It was the Giant’s abode.
The Monster lay ring-like in a deep slumber:
His feet tucked under his head,
The fire in the middle.
Sosriqwe went back,
And consulted his steed:
“My Tx’we-zchey,
The fleetest of them all.
This is the Giant’s mound,
His feet are tucked under his head,
The fire in the middle.
The Ogre is sleeping.
Tell me, pray, how to steal a brand?”
“Swarthy Sosriqwe,
The iron-eyed darksome man,
Most dashing horseman.
Ride on my back;
I will turn the clatter of my hooves
Into the rude tread of a hound;
As we get nearer to the slumbering Giant
I will make my steps as soft as those
Of a gentle feline;
We will sneak up,
And you will snatch a fire-brand.”
Sosriqwe mounted his Dun,
Stole up to the tower
And seized a brand.
They galloped for seven days and seven nights;
The fire-brand slipped from his hand, and,
Carried by the wind,
Landed on the Giant’s knee.
The Giant started from his slumber;
He reckoned his brands:
One was missing.
“I will immolate the vile brigand
On my father’s altar,” thundered the Ogre.
Without leaving his post,
He groped for the robber along the Seven Roads,
And caught him that had been galloping
For seven days and seven nights.
“Young Nart,
Nart horseman,
I shall devour you whole,
If you fail to tell me where Sosriqwe is.”
“I have never met this fiend,
But I know of his exploits.”
“Spare thyself and shew me of his ploys.”
“With pleasure”, said our wily hero,
Seizing on his chance.
Sosriqwe led the Giant on.
“Sosriqwe stands at the foot of Mount Qapschiqay;
The Abra Stone*º is rolled down;
He knocks it with his brow,
And sends it back up faster than it came down.”
“I am game.”
Sosriqwe ran up the mountain;
He let down the Abra Stone;
The Giant butted the Stone
Sending it up fast up the precipice.
The Giant cowered slightly.
“This is a glorious game.
It has soothed my itchy brow.
If you know a better one, teach it to me.”
Sosriqwe cursed the Heavens
For not divining the Giant’s demise.
“I will shew you a more wonderful one.”
He led the Giant further on.
“Sosriqwe sits on his knees;
His wide-open mouth is filled with arrows;
He bites off the steel arrow-heads,
Swallows them and spits out the shafts.”
The Giant dropped down to his knees.
He gaped his mouth.
Sosriqwe crammed it full of arrows.
The Giant snipped off the arrow-heads,
Gulped them down and spewed out the shafts.
“Young Nart,
Nart horseman,
This is such a splendid game.
It has slaked the itch in my mouth.
If you know of a better one, teach it to me.”
Sosriqwe damned Providence
For not divining the Giant’s ruin.
“Sosriqwe opens his mouth wide.
A sharp red-hot ploughshare
Is thrown into his innards;
He cools it down in his stomach,
And casts it out from his behind.”
Sosriqwe white-heated the ploughshare,
And tossed it into the Giant’s gaping jaws.
The Giant cooled it in his belly,
And flung it out.
“Young Nart,
Nart horseman,
This is quite a marvelous game.
It has relieved my itching paunch.
Shew me a more daring one.”
Sosriqwe imprecated fate
For not divining the Giant’s bane.
“Hold on, Colossal One.
There is still one more to be played:
Sosriqwe is taken across the Seven Gulfs;
In the very deepest one,
He is placed such that his feet
Are just above the sea-floor,
His mouth barely above the water;
The gulf is then caused to freeze
For seven days and seven nights.
He adroitly wriggles out of the icy waters.”
Sosriqwe froze the water around the Giant.
“Now, extricate thyself.”
As the ice began to crack:
“Stay put, Giant.
It would do your muscles a world of good,
If the ice is made even harder.”
Sosriqwe made sure that this time
The ice was rock-solid.
“Try now.”
“Try as I might, I don’t seem to be able
To get myself out of this one.”
Sosriqwe unbared his sword,
And flew at the Giant.
“Huff”, the Giant blew Sosriqwe
The distance of a whole morning’s gallop.
Sosriqwe returned swiftly, sword in hand.
As he made to cut the hapless Ogre’s head,
The Giant sobbed:
“I must have been a complete fool
For failing to identify you, Sosriqwe, by your
human knees*¹.”
Sosriqwe beheaded the Giant,
And brought back a fire-brand.
The Nart warriors were huddled together for warmth,
Some had perished from the cold,
Some from the heat.
For the few survivors,
Sosriqwe kindled a huge blaze.
Reanimated, they continued on their expedition,
And made good spoil.
They were safely led back home by Sosriqwe.
* An epithet whose original significance is now unknown.
0 Number seven had great religious significance among the Narts, and later
on, the Circassians.
1 Also Wezirmes, Wezirmegh.
2 Considered as a proper name in other versions.
3 Name of Sosriqwe’s steed (literally: Little Dun).
*0 A stone of enormous size and immense weight.
*1 Sosriqwe had a body of steel. However, because he was held by a pair
of tongs from his knees while he was being tempered by Lhepsch, the god of
the smiths, they were rendered human-like.
Сосрыкъуэ МафIэ Къехь
(Поэмэм щыщ пычыгъуэ)
Армэ СосрыкъуапцIэ,
Армэ лIы фIыцIэ гъущIынэ,
МыдэкIэ емынэ шу.
Нарт шухэр мэшэс,
Нарт шухэр щышэсым,
Сосрыкъуи къакIэрыхущ.
Жэщибл махуибл уаеми, нызарищIэкIщ.
Нартыжьхэри бгъэпIыщIэщ,
Уэ езыхэри нызаупщIыжщ:
Уэ, Имыс, мафIэ уиIэ?
Уэ, Сосым, мафIэ уиIэ?
Жьынду ЖьакIэ, мафIэ уиIэ?
Арэкъ Шу, мафIэ уиIэ?
Уэзырмэгъ, мафIэ уиIэ?
Нэсрэн ЖьакIэ, мафIэ уиIэ?
Ашэ и къуэ Ашэмэз, мафIэ уиIэ?
Хъымыщ и къуэ Батэрэз, мафIэ уиIэ?
Сыбылши, мафIэ уиIэ?
Албэч и къуэ Тотэрэш, мафIэ уиIэ?
Нартыдзэу ежьахэм
мафIэ зиIэ къахэкIкъым.
Анэм и къуитIри къытхьэусыхэщ:
«Дэ дымыделэтэмэ,
Сосрыкъуи дызыхэмытым,
дэри дыкъадежьэнтэкъым».
Ар жаIэрэ здэпыту,
Сосрыкъуи къэсащ:
«Мыри ди дыщэ лIэужь,
Армэ ди лIэужьыфI,
мафIэ щхьэкIэ дызэтеулIэ».
«Ай хьай, сэ сиIэ», — жиIэри,
мафIэр ину къахуищIщ;
Дзэ псори щызэдейкIуэм,
Сосрыкъуи къагъэгубжьщ.
МафIэр зэхидзри,
Псым хидзэжщ.
Уэ нартыжьхэр мафIэншэу къыщынэм:
«Армэ, ди Сосрыкъуэ,
мыдэ ди дыщэ лIэужь,
Армэ, ди лIэужьыфI,
МафIэ уиIэм къытхуэщI», жаIэри,
Мыр итIанэ къеулъэIу.
«Уащхъуэ къан, симыIэ,
симыIэми фхуэсщIынщ».
…
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