Chechen

Ламанах духдуьйлу шал шийла шовданш Ши�?н бекъачу кийрана Ӏаббалца ца молуш, Ӏин кӀорги�? буьйлш, мела муж муьйлуш, Варшан йи�?ти�? йолу маргӀал �?ийна буц Ши�?н оьздачу зоьрхана буззалца ца юуш, Орцал лахабуьйлуш, �?ема ладуьйгӀш, Иччархочун тоьпуо лацарна, кхоьруш, Дехачу ди�?гана буткъага мотт хьоькхуш, Мокхазан бердах куьрана га хьоькхуш, Попан орамах торгӀала тӀа детташ, Лергаш дуьхьал туьй�?уш, кур аркъал туьй�?уш, Гу лекха буьйлуш, гӀелашка ва гӀергӀаш, Ма�?ани�? �?ай ли�?ла гӀелашца ва боцуш! Вай би�?н дац, ва кӀентий, аьлар ца хуьлуш?.

From the depths of the mountains gush the ice-cold springs, But he doesn't fill his lean stomach there. Rather he descends to the depths of the ravine and drinks from a warm puddle. The wooded slope is bordered by rising fresh blue grass, But he doesn't fill his noble belly there. Coming out below the wooded hills, he listens carefully, Anxious to avoid the dreaded hunter's gun. Licking his long body with his slender tongue, Sharpening his branched antlers on the flinty shore, Striking his spotted hind leg on the plane tree's root, Pointing his ears forward, tossing his antlers onto his back, Climbing high on the hill, bellowing to the does, How many stags walk without their mates? And are there not many lads besides us of whom the same is true?

(The "Stag" Chechen folk song)