In the days of old, they say so,
Was a land unseen, unheard-of;
On the four sides by the waters
Was that desert land surrounded.
There the foot of man stepped never
But for Yanbirthe, an old man,
And old Yanbikah, his woman –
In that land the only people.
And all roads were open to them;
They forgot the land they came from,
They forgot where lay their country,
Where they’d left behind their parents,
Strangely that escaped their memory.
And they turned out the first-comers,
The first settlers on that island,
With no living soul around there,
Two of them, until the woman
Bore two sons unto her husband;
Shulgan was the elder son’s name
And the younger one was Ural.
They saw none of other people,
Living four of them together,
Unconcerned with home and household,
Unconcerned with pots and kettles,
They did not bake, hung no copper;
That was how they all existed.
And they knew no ailment, nor Death,
And they used to say: “We bear Death
Ourselves to every live thing.”
Not on horseback rode they hunting,
Nor did they take bows and arrows,
For they kept some beasts for hunting,
Treating all of them as equals,
Beasts of prey: a lion for riding,