Ушба [Ushba] [English translation]

Sun, do tell, what's light to me - my beloved left yesterday.

Be still, little bell of carven moon, within green meadows of mine.

Ah, a woman of silver lured him uphill,

With a single sway of her head of two painted horns.

Return me my soul, o the soul of the two-horned mount!

Which sacrifice does desire your crown of summits?

I'll give you a bull of horns sharp and curved,

Like a sickle, with which you harvest our men.

Mountain of Sorrow, Sun and Moon, my beloved left yesterday.

He'll have a wife of silver, curved and sharp.

I've been spinning the yarn sleeplessly till the dawn,

You too are a spinner, Mountain of Sorrow, I'll be a sister of yours.

I've been spinning the yarn sleeplessly till the dawn,

Two icy blades were shearing the sky sheep in silence.

Tufts on the black ridge of cliffs - Mountain, aren't you a spinner, too?

Sew him a dress, so he doesn't freeze in your embrace.

And if my wait is in vain and my death is untimely, Mountain,

I shall become an angel of darkness beneath a silvery wing,

Like an icy curve of a feather I'll be a sister of yours,

And forever could stand behind his right shoulder.

Mountain of Sorrow, Sun and Moon, my beloved left yesterday.

He'll have a wife of silver, curved and sharp.

I've been spinning the yarn sleeplessly till the dawn,

You too are a spinner, Mountain of Sorrow, I'll be a sister of yours.

I'll give you a bull, golden of horns, steady of step.

What is an arm to a wing of blue ice?

In the eves you've been weaving dainty clouds in the sky,

Mountain of Sorrow, Sun and Moon, my beloved left yesterday.