If Khoomei is the earth's low hum, then the morin khuur and urtiin duu are the grassland's natural symphony, born of wind and grass. Both grew from the grassland itself, carrying the blood and emotion of the nomadic people—sounds etched into the land.

(Photo: Hu Min)

Morin Khuur

The morin khuur is a very special instrument, named for the horse-head carving at the top of its neck. It is the grassland's soul instrument. Its horse-head form evokes the spirit of the steed, and its tone is deep and rich, tinged with desolation. In its low passages, it is like hooves drumming softly on the grass; in its gentler moments, like a stream flowing quietly; in its highest reaches, like an eagle sweeping across a clear sky.

Urtiin Duu

Urtiin duu is singing with extremely long, drawn-out notes—a single syllable can last over ten seconds. It is the song that runs in the grassland's veins. Its melodies are vast and unhurried—spare in words, rich in lingering notes—like a great wind sweeping across a thousand miles of meadow, like a river winding slowly toward the horizon. In its notes lie the herdsman's ease, reverence for heaven and earth, and love for home—and with a single voice, it opens the boundless plains before you.

When urtiin duu meets the morin khuur, they create the grassland's most moving native music. Sit on the grassland and listen quietly as the strings and the song drift into the wind, over the scent of grass—and you'll understand: this land's vastness and gentleness live in that long, echoing song.