“You’re my partner like a two-year old foal,
You’re my faithful friend like an untrained yearling.
Among so many people,
I devoted my life to you,
I hope your relatives don’t say
That you told your dream to your wife.
I heard what you have just said,
You have a choice, the people are honest,
I’ll interpret your dream.
Instead of telling the dream to a wife
Why not tell it to an elder,
By gathering all your people.
Why not tell everyone;
Why not tell somebody
Who is sixty years old or older;
Why not tell somebody
Who knows how to solve issues.
To know the answers to your dream
Zulayka’s heart isn’t open,
Your wife wants something from you,
Will you bestow, Kojojash,
Her wish that she asks from you.
Please abandon your gun,
Let’s enjoy our life in the camp.
You have enough cattle to survive,
You have an old mother and father,
This gun isn’t a good skill for you,
You have a younger brother, your sibling
Why don’t you teach him the skill.”
In the past, when Kojojash was on a hunting trip he had found a boy. He named him Sartkoshçu. Kojojash considered Sartkoshçu his younger brother. At the time, Sartkoshçu was ten or eleven years old. So, Zulayka was referring to Sartkoshçu for that reason.
“The gun will bring no good at the end,
To a person like you, who carries it.
You’ll loose energy from running,
You’ll loose your strength.
It’s still not too late to tell your dream,
To a an aksakal
And have him interpret it for you.
If I interpret some of it wrong,
I’m afraid that, Kojojash,
You might dislike my words,
If they hurt your feelings.”
Kojojash then says the following:
“Forget about it," he said,
"Even if he is a sixty years old,
If he doesn’t have enough wisdom,
An aksakal can’t tell anything.
You’re the love of my heart,
If it signifies my death,
Just say that I’ll die.
By saying bad thing a good,
Zulayka, don’t manipulate it.
My relatives can’t interpret it,"
Even if a man is a sixty year old,
He’s hasn’t got enough wisdom, and blind,
You’re wise and intelligent,
Don’t do that, just interpret it.
Then Zulayka says “Agreed,
Hunter, your words are wise.
Don’t accuse your wife as being an infidel later
For she misinterpreted [your dream].
That she is being deceptive
In order to keep him for herself.
I got what you have told me,
Give me your hand, hunter,
There is no benefit to you,
From this piece of iron.”
Predicting something beforehand,
Now, intelligent Zulayka,
Began interpreting his dream:
“Your dream that you saw last night,
Seems to have a complex nature,
Please don’t make me interpret
Your deed you did in your dream.
The tying of the beldik around your waist,
And setting off to the mountains . . .
Means that I will remain a widow
There is no use from hunting,
My hunter, quit this skill of yours.
The wrapping of the çarïk on your feet
Means that I’ll be a widow lamenting [your death].
Your father is old; your brother is young,
Don’t get yourself into trouble, Kojojash.
The catching and mounting of your horse
Who has golden hoofs and copper wrists
Mean that I, Zulayka, your loving wife,
Will burn in grieving your death.
Your father is old, your brother is young,
How will they do at home without you?
Don’t carry it on your shoulder, throw this iron away,
It’s been a year since I came,
You don’t need the gun,
I, Zulayka beg you.
Your running from valley to valley
Means that you find food for people.
Your running from hill to hill . . .
Might mean that your wife
Whom you married a virgin becomes a tul,
And yourself will suffer a great deal.
On the hill of the white Song-Köl,
You couldn’t find deer there,
On the foothills of Ak-Toskok,
On the top of Kök-Toskok,
Don’t be happy for killing
Thirty kids and forty çebiçes.
If you don’t get rid of this gun,
You’ll find harm at the end.
By wearing a black scarf,
The suffering of your tragedy,
Will fall onto your wife, Zulay.
Don’t play with the iron gun,
It will harm your life.
Instead of walking hungry
Wandering in wilderness,
Enjoy your life among your people.
This very gun at the end,
Listen to me, hunter, quit it,
Will bring death to yourself.
Your standing alone in despair
On spiky rocks where bears don’t live,
On slippery cliffs where deer don’t go,
Means that your noble golden head
Might get separated from your brothers
And your soul might go to death.
If you’re standing alone with no one around you
It means that your life has ended.
The fact you were scared in your dream,
The fact you prayed namaz alone
On a wide wilderness,
Where there are no crows flying,
Signifies that they will tie you onto a tabït [1],
Your parents will cry out loud,
Your wife will cry in great pain,
Lamenting their hunter’s death,
Your people will stay behind.
Your iron hanging on your shoulder,
Will do this to you at the end,
Instead of bringing help to you.
Don’t throw away this young bird, your life,
Don’t make me, your partner, Zulayka suffer
Before I even settle down here.
Don’t let your relatives suffer and be lonely,
Listen to my words and abandon
That iron which has no use.
My friend whom I love dearly,
Please listen to my words.”
Zulayka interprets it this way.
“My dream is indeed bad,” he thought
The hunter’ heart was troubled now.
Frowning his eyelids in lament,
Kojojash stepped outside,
Not being content with his wife,
Kojojash went and approached
An old aksakal.
The hunter said to the man:
“My wife interpreted my dream,
I’m, therefore, feeling sad,” he said.
This old man, who loves to eat meat,
Knew how to handle the matter:
“Don’t be sad, my light,
About Zulayka’s words.
Perhaps she said them
To make you to be with her [all the time].
If he leaves he won’t return, she thinks,
Beacuse you are essential
For your relatives and people.
Don’t be upset, go hunting
To all the places you wan to go.
A brave man doesn’t listen
To the words of a woman.”

After Kojoash heard the elderly men’s words, he thought to himself: “They are right. Zulayka can’t be smarter than these aksakals who are over sixty years old and who had seen much in their lives. Zulayka, is, indeed, trying to keep me for herself.” So, he decided to go hunting and got ready for it.

On the same day when Kokojash had dreamt, the kayberen, Sur Eçki also dreamt and told her dream in the morning to her husband Alabash.

1. Tabït is a flat wooden panel used to carry the deceased body to the grave.

© 2004 Elmira Köçümkulkïzï