Каныбек Иманалиев

Страна : Кыргызстан

Иманалиев Каныбек Капашович родился 11 мая 1969 года в селе Каинда Кеминского района Чуйской области. Женат, отец четверых детей. Имею два высших образования, доктор политических наук. В настоящее время являюсь депутатом Жогорку Кенеша (Парламент) Кыргызской Республики.
Автор таких книг, как «Кыргызстан (Слово о Родине)», изданной на русском, английском, немецком и китайском языках, повестей «Жоогазын ыры» («Тюльпаны пустыни»), «Кыргызские притчи», «Алтынколдун аккуусу», «Тагай бий», «Саякбай» («Баллада о гение»), «Сагынбай», «Шабдан Баатыр» и сборника стихов «Арзуу ыры». Также являюсь составителем 10-томного издания «Кыргыздар», в котором собраны сведения и статьи об истории, культуре, этнографии кыргызского народа.

Country : Kyrgyzstan

The KAGANATE «Forty epistles since the beginning of time» (…Fragments of the Stone Book…)

The Kyok-Tengry



We climbed up the top of the nearest mountain and set the table – dastarkhan with the white kurut, and worshiped the Tengry – mountains, clouds, and water.  Nothing more. The Tengry is our only path leading to the Most High.


In the late autumn we gathered all people, made a sacrifice to the Tengry and purified our shelter with the sacred archa.  We bowed to the Tengry, bowed to greatness.


The worship of the Tengry is the worship before holiness.

The worship of the Tengry is the purification of morals.

The worship of the Tengry is the worship before the spirits of ancestors.


Oh, great Tengry, the keeper of the universe, please keep the land, and save my people!

Let there be no sorrow and tears in the great mountains,

Let no grief touch small hills,

Let our minds not wither in vain,

Let the feet of travelers be free from dust,

Let the Sun rise over the right brow,

Let the Moon rise over the left brow,

Full moon comes; and then the new moon,

The sun rises and then goes to rest again,

And only my Tengry remains unshakable in its place.

My Tengry is higher than the Moon, the Sun and the stars,

Let justice never leave Kagan, for the Tengry is the witness to everything.


Unrighteousness does not please the Tengry.

The Tengry sees, hears, feels and tests all of us.

If you recognize the Tengry, your essence will be filled with happiness and appeasement.


Only Tengry can make the cruel one merciful,

And turn the coward into a brave warrior,

It gives zeal to a lazy one, and a loyal friend to a lonely one.

It will stop the traducement.


Only the Tengry is the ancestor of ancestors, the origin of ancestors.


As soon as we finished the ritual of worship, the sky burst out with the white rain. We have been purified. Golden rain! What a miracle!


If you are close to the Tengry, you will be away from filth in your thoughts.

Give peace, Tengry, to all people-tribe!

The man, do not lie to the Tengry!

Do not shadow it with unrighteous deeds!

The Tengry is great, and it is always with us.



The progenitress Umai



Since ancient times, we worship Umai-Ene, our foremother next to the Tengry.


Umai-Ene gave birth to a son. The baby came screaming into this world.  She cut the navel string and then she salved his mouth with melted butter.  She spent sleepless nights at the cradle of her child. At the time when she was breast-feeding, there was a good yield of wheat. The holy anointed Umai-Ene cured all of diseases.  She generously shared her breast-feeding: she gave her right breast to her son, and with the left breast she nursed an orphan. Her white milk was inexhaustible. The son who was fed up with her milk became a batyr then. We saw how Umai-Ene saved the wounded soldier from death with her milk.


We were all nourished by the sacred milk of Umai-Ene.

Nobody ever could say a bad word to Umai-Ene.  She was strong and did not lose her courage or her faith. When her sons were on military campaigns, Umai-Ene suffered with pain.


Umai-Ene decorated the world with wonderful embroidery.

Umai-Ene was kind, loving, pure, wearing white elechek.

Umai-Ene caressed us saying: “My dearest!”, “My light!”, “My very own!”


When my soul was exhausted with pain because of the wounds, I remembered my mother. Her love was hot like the Sun, deep as the Sky, powerful as the Earth, and the spiritual strength was all-powerful.

At the time when the aspen blossomed we lost the great Umai-Ene.  A bitter grief swept over us. It was a mournful day. We were frozen with grief. Our souls ached. She was generous and righteous just as the Tengry.


A wagtail flew out of the grave of Umai-Ene. Our holy foremother did not die – she ascended into the eternity. She is as holy as the Tengry.


The place of rest of Umai-Ene is in the west.  When the sun rises, I remember Umai-Ene. When the sun is in its highest point, I remember Umai-Ene.  When the sun sets, I remember Umai-Ene.


Do not forget about mother’s milk!

Be worthy of mother’s milk!

Esteem mother’s milk!

Umai-Ene was my daily sun!

Don’t throw a stone to a wagtail!

There is nothing as holy as Mother.



The Word



The Kagan listened to the Word with ecstasy. Pleiades looked from the height, and he was silent. He paid tribute to the Word.  He felt that the Word was more magnificent than the Kagan.


The word itself was spoken by the Patron of the Word.  He was an old man, a connoisseur of the word. The Kagan did not interrupt, for the Word was above all and everything.  The mystery was told that remained a mystery. Every word had its value; there was no idle word. All words were said with respect, nicely and harmoniously.  The lost steed could be found; the lost word never.


The word was not pronounced beyond the need.  The speaker became richer and the listener became rich.  The word was said accurately and correctly. The said word eased the soul.  It was not false. The word can kill. The enemy will step back in front of the word, and not in face of the sword.


The word was meaningful; it was deep, sonorous and harmonious.

It was as edification. It was a lesson. It was wise and cleansing.

It was said cautiously, sometimes with a hint.

The word was acute like a golden eagle that sees far ahead.

The wonderful word became a precept for some people.

The word was generous.  For all, it became a blessing.

The sage speaks heartfelt, at times with pain in his soul;

The ignoramus speaks deliriously;

The fool would spoil the Word.


People part when the conversation ends. There has been no superfluous, bad word.  People wanted more Words. The Word enriched the thought, refreshed the soul, and gave joy to the soul.

The wise man will die, but the Word will remain.  Akyn will die, but the Song will remain.  The hero will die, but the Glory will remain.  It is only the Word that is immortal; it cannot be buried.  Let the wise Word always be!


When a baby is born, a lullaby is sung, and the Word is pronounced.

Lovers whisper to each other the secret Word.

When a man dies, the farewell word expresses the sorrow.

The Word not pronounced on time is like a human being not born.

The person’s life is just a few words.


Everything is transient in this world like the fluid water, like the noise of a battle, like the loose sand in a clock.  It is only the Word that remains as the river of wisdom.


Let the light of the Word not go out! The word is imperishable.

The word of ancestors should be appreciated and kept holy!

Keep traditions and customs!

Do not speak out blasphemy!

Do not say bad words in the morning!

Do not succumb to anger!


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