Introduction
In English, we have the term nightmare. A Mare is a folkloric creature which comes in the night to bring bad dreams- or nightmares. In Ukrainian there is the term maryty (марити) which means to dream in a feverish way- i.e. to rave and to see things. In Ukraine, the Mara (Мара) is a generally female ghost or spectre which comes in the night (and indeed the term can be used generically to refer to a ghost).
This is my translation of a Ukrainian fairytale about a Mara. It also includes mentions of other Ukrainian folk creatures- the Igosh, and the Lisovik.
Once again, shout out to my Ukrainian tutor Ivan (https://x.com/watsobert) for his help with translating this- if you are looking to learn Ukrainian, I’d strongly recommend reaching out to him!
Mara: A scary fairytale
Standing above a clay ravine is a small house.
In the cottage lives an old woman and her two grandchildren: the older one is named Motrya, and the younger is Yavdoshka.
One day, in the night, Motrya is lying on the oven [note: in traditional Ukrainian houses, the stove would be a massive tiled block with the fire in the bottom- the top of it is warm, and so a common sleeping place for children or unwell people] – she can’t sleep. She hung her head over the side and saw:
The door was ajar, and a dishevelled old woman had come into the cottage…
She had taken Yavdoshka from her cradle and was only noticed as she went through the door.
Motrya shouted:
“Grandma, grandma, Yavdoshka was taken by a terrible woman!”
And there was that woman- Mara [note: Mara is a creature that brings nightmares in folklore, but also generically is a term for spectres/ghosts], a spectre who steals children, and leaves a log in their place in their cradles.
Grandma dashed to look for them, but apparently Mara went into the green whirlpool under the ravine. Oh, there were tears!
The grandmother worried day and night. Motrya tells her:
“Don’t cry, grandma, I will find my sister”
“Where are you going, little berry [note: term of endearment], you will disappear yourself”
“I’ll find her,” insists Motrya. And when the stars poured over the ravine, Motrya stalked out of the house, and ran into the unknown.
She went, bouncing from foot to foot, until she saw- standing above the ravine was an oak tree, and the branches on the tree were moving.
She came closer, and saw that the tree had a beard and two blazing green eyes.
“Help me, little girl” croaked the tree, “there is no way at all that I can turn back into a Lisovik alone [note: literally translates as woodsman, a humanoid forest spirit which can be good or evil depending upon the tale], come now and buckle your belt around me.”
Motrya took off her belt, and buckled it around the oak tree.
There was a huffing from under the bark, it stirred, and then the old grandfather Lisovik stood before Motrya.
“Thank you little girl, now ask for what you want.”
“Show me, grandfather, where to find my sister, the evil Mara took her away.”
The Lisovik stood scratching the back of his head… And as he scratched- he plotted.
He took Motrya onto his shoulders and ran into the ravine, running very fast.
“Sit behind the bush and wait” said the Lisovik. On the shore of the whirlpool he turned into a tree stump, and Motrya hid behind him.
After a while the green whirlpool filled with silt, and a shaggy head rose above the water.
Mara snorted, swam to the shore, and crawled out onto it. On each of her arms she had five big-headed babies – Igoshes [note: spirit of a baby that died before being baptised, generally evil] – and one more in her bosom.
The Mara sat on the tree stump, and fed her Igoshes wolfberries [note: collective term for a range of plants which have toxic or irritating fruits]. The babies eat with no issues- they don’t choke.
“Now it’s your turn,” the Mara said with a heavy voice as she took out the baby from her bosom.
“Yavdoshka!” Motrya almost screamed.
“Eat a berry,” said the Mara to little Yavdoshka,” and you will become an Igosha [note: female form of Igosh].
The Lisovik stuck out a crooked branch, and grabbed the Mara’s leg…
Mara wanted to dash back into the water- but had no way of escaping.
The Igoshes scattered on the grass, bellowing with pig-like voices and shaking. What an abomination!
Motrya grabbed Yavdoshka, and ran for her life.
And in pursuit behind her: Mara had broken away, racing to catch up to her, screeching, jumping a fathom at a time.
Her heart knocks in her chest. Motrya flies like the wind. Yavdoshka holds her arms around Motrya’s neck. The cottage is already in sight to run to.
“Grandma!” shouted Motrya. The Mara is about to catch her.
The rooster sang: “Kukuriku, go away night, get lost badness!”
The Mara withered, and dispersed into a cloud of fog. The morning winds carried her back into the ravine.
The grandmother came running. She embraced Motrya, and took Yavdoshka into her arms. Oh how joyful she was!
In the ravine the old grandfather Lisovik clapped his wooden hands and chuckled. He was greatly amused.
Original text can be found at: https://xn--80aaukc.xn--j1amh/mara-strashna-kazka.html (Unfortunately WordPress seems to struggle with Cyrillic characters in URLs)