 Spiridon
S. Schischigin:
I met him first in sommer 1999 during recordings in Waechtersbach,
Hessen, Germany. He is a humorfull, gentle, very, very virutuose Player
of the Khomus. His technique is unreached.
here
you will find his biography
Khomus
Alexei Kulakovskiy
Translation by Elena Shishigina
The day
When the tribe of great gods
Was creating this undermooned world,
The day
When we, two - legged,
Were blessed to live on Earth,
The day
That we, the Yakuts,
Were let to live on Earth,
The day
The tribe of great gods
Created a gift for us -
Soundful and precious to our hearts,
With the shivering tongue,
With the iron stick dinging like a string,
Making a hundred various sounds,
Dear khomus.
While doing that the tribe of great gods
Heartlessly using all the passionate words,
Coloured as the most colourful rainbow,
Were putting spells on the created khomus.
“The frame - the metal strip
We made of the greatest steel,
The clips - the bolts,
We made of the hardest steel;
The loop ring
We made of strongest steel,
The tongue - the plait
We made of the most pure steel;
With the sweetest voices of different tribes
We filled the khomus,
All singable words of different tribes
We whispered to it,
Melodious murmuring of different tribes
We sent to khomus,
With wonderful songs of different tribes
We blessed the khomus,
Whistles and twitters of various birds
We let into it,
We taught it how to be
A blow of the light-aired wind.
All those who are overcomed
By grief and sorrow -
Let it sing its songs,
Let your spirit be free,
Don’t let sadness to be -
Let it sing its songs,
In the days of great sadness
And sorrow and madness -
Let it sing its songs,
Just wrestle and fight,
In war don’t give up -
Let it sing its songs,
Let it help with your work
And free you from tiredness -
Let it sing its songs.
When
Tired of families,
When
Caught by starvation,
When
Tired of fighting,
When trilled by stagnation,
Close to the eve,
Too cold to believe,
Close to the night,
Followed by fright
Will the Yakuts get under their shelter,
In spaceless nests with poles and planks,
Covered with manure for warmth,
They will start telling stories
To shorten damned nights,
But will get tired of telling.
They’ll start singing songs
But will get tired of singing.
They’ll start playing games
But will get tired of playing…
Then, tired of uselessness
And weak from hunger,
Blank-minded of no motion,
That’s when
Sing your sweet song to them, khomus!
That’s when
Bring them back to life with your song, khomus!
Wake up their souls,
Warm up their hearts,
Put out the sorrow
And shorten the nights,
Make the loneliness easy,
Get rid of bad thoughts,
Make Spring time come closer.
And when
The summer comes along,
When
Warmth overcomes Winter,
When it’ll challenge the cold
And melt all the snow on Earth,
And flourish the fields with flowers,
And make the sky a royal blue,
Presenting with abundance,
Promising happiness in the future,
Making a hungry one full up,
Making a skinny one - a chubby,
Making a weak one - a strong one,
Bringing up those who fell down,
Filling the sky with birds,
Multiplying insects without counting,
Feeding all animals to the best,
Turning all sad people into happy ones,
All the pleasures of life giving to those
Who are unhappy and hungry
And even those who don’t want to work.
That is when, the warmest summer,
All people will celebrate a very special day,
Praising the spirits of grace.
At first the small yhyakh will take place,
Which is a family holiday.
Then the middle yhyakh will be held,
Which is a holiday of neighbouring families.
And then - the greatest yhyakh,
And then - the biggest yhyakh,
Which is a holiday of all the Yakuts.
There’ll be challenging games,
And passionate dancing,
And the sweetest songs.
At the same time,
At the same place the games of dexterous,
Brave, quick and well-aimed,
Will be also taking place.
That is when you’re destined to
In the form of a loud voice,
In the form of a beautiful songs,
To flourish those games
Make holidays brighter,
Songs louder, dancing faster -
To make all hearts and souls brighter.”
That is how it was spelled
By white old men,
That’s how they predicted it to be…
1898
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