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suyampamit · 8 years ago

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Irkay (”The Deer”)

The Wolf Speakers, who speak a Minhast dialect similar to the Salmon Speakers, tell of a white deer that lives high in the Kilmay Rī Mountains. The Kilmay Rī is a harsh environment, but men must hunt so their families may survive through the winter. Sometimes a hunter does not return. Usually they fall victim to the elements. But sometimes their bodies are found, stabbed multiple times, the snows colored crimson from their wounds. Oftentimes the bodies bear bloody hoof marks that pierce through the flesh of their backs and chests. If you see the hoof prints of a deer in red-tinged snow, you know that Kaymawākan is near. Make haste and flee, for Kaymawākan is hunting you.

Sappim birīh suttu yiptikī asumambunekan; Kimalaški asumambunekan Wakpe intasuntakkimannaft Naħkasumambunku Wayhekī Šarrat tarampilaban.

Wahek, matti makkutirtaħte, Sappu waamburrunataharan Saxtidutyatawamtaħkaru, "Bakran tamaškektahabu?" Kirišmararannamā, "Nakkitaħš?" Hambin xānim kayyuun marišpinušillekmahu

Išpihipsalasibbatittaharu Kiantittaħte dustindirupputahekaru Kianki šullumtahekaru, Mattitittaħte amandisiħtirkaru Tamarsartakaru, Wahek mattitittaħte amandisiħtirkaru

Išpikyamšarekaran, Bastetallutsakšarekaran. Išpintahuslapallutsakšarekaran, Bašbayāk bastetallutsakšarekaran Wahek, marwastanaft Tarasmanesaššawaš

Tuytahatahanaft, Išpisaššarankilwāš Kimalaš tatannuykiwataħpitahan Sap ambunkimalaštahaban Nuskikungaħtakkultasnabu Eyha, wahek kadduttahan!

Rubwakankilwāš, Hittitittaharu wammīn Kahallatalluttartaharan Yiptia naħkkahallatalluttartaharu Išnittaħšimattahabu Yusnakarrawaš.

Inditamaškataku, Hatā' martubbataban Wahek, yiptiki kaddutahan Eyhak, nirraktaku, Waheki umyasalluttakukilwāš Suyyeknataħte kuddumtaku

Šandaħtahan, Eyha, wastane dawapabammā, Išpiskaħyiptian... Bisiraztakummā, Waheki mattuyekammā, Iħtaššarekan.

Sappu wahunnetirekte, Naš waššumbattaħte. Waheki iħtaħšittallutekaban, Kuttariyekaban, Waheki hištarkeħretahaban, Huttuytirekte dāwapwastanemahabanaft, sartirtahabu.

Among these mountains I walk this path In the deep snow In the depths of the forest Where the pines grow thick; The land sleeps Under this white blanket.

Then I see your tracks, You walked this path not long ago; You strike my curiosity; Why are you following me? I ask myself where you are, A question only these trees can answer.

A rustle alerts me, I turn in the direction Where I first heard you; I sense your presence Although I cannot see you, I know you are here.

I ready myself I ready my weapons; I have honed them meticulously, I have honed each their killing edge; That which bleeds shall not survive These sharpened edges.

In your overconfidence You foolishly reveal yourself, But you walk these woods Not knowing the dangers That await you in the forest, Thus you slip on the ice.

I seize this opportune advantage You foolishly granted me, Your weapons are now scattered Spread across the snow; You run to reclaim them But it is too late for you.

I give chase, You cannot outrun me; You stumble and fall, Now I stand over you; I plunge my weapons, They pierce your heart.

You crawl away, Your blood spills, It colors the snow red; I charge at you again, I stab you once again, Then I step back and watch.

Your bow lies here And your arrows lie there, But I still hold onto my weapons; I shake them at you As you give me the deathstare; My antlers dripping with your blood are the last thing you see.

https://soundcloud.com/nickcamporillo/irkay-the-deer?in=nickcamporillo/sets/windsong

#conlang #conlangs #Conworld #Minhast #Minhast myths and legends

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