In Silbi life is as usual
The village leads a quiet life.
Care-free simek
And revelry passed.
Gay-coloured shirts
Are seen everywhere in the fields.
The Chuvash works like draught oxen,
He started working with songs.
He gets up at the dawn
And goes to the wide steppe.
After a quick snack
He takes the light scythe.
After uchuk the Chuvash people
Have started mowing;
Huge cocks of hay are standing
In the meadow as if towers.
The tinkling of scythes hasn’t yet ceased
Above the unmowed grass,
But already rye ripens,
Sparkling with ripe ears.

* * *

Many different words are around,
The tongue is loose, you know.
Perhaps, there is some truth
In what people say.
In Silbi there are also
Talks about Narspi and Takhtaman.
People have always known how cruel
How cruel is Takhtaman.
Being afraid of Mikheter,
Silently and secretly,
Lowering their heads, peasants
Gossip about his daughter.
As soon as Setner heard those words
He immediately left for somewhere
He left his mother alone,
Without saying her good-bye.
People, having worked in the field
Come back home for supper;
And the names of Setner and Narspi
Are mentioned at the meal.

* * *

Setner started walking and quickly
Escaped in the thicket, feeling furious.
Aware of his sweetheart’s sufferings,
He wishes death to the enemy:
“It’ll get dark, the night will come
And I’ll meet the enemy.
The heart will cease to beat in him.
Long before the sunrise.
It’ll become light and the day’ll break out.
The man will wake up.
But my enemy will still sleep
And will never wake up again.
The sun will rise and warm everything around
I’ll be in the forest. You, the enemy
Will never get up. Narspi will
Never be in your house.”
Tonight Narspi left the house
All by herself;
And before meeting her friend
She left her enemy.