Book B10Vengeance for Siavash and the Retrieval of Kay Khosrow

When man has counted sixty years or more,Give him no wine to shake what strength he bore.

Age gives a staff where once he held the rein;His wealth lies scattered, and his powers wane.

The watchman on the mountain scans the rise,And sees the countless ranks before his eyes.

He cannot draw the rein and turn away,Though spearheads reach his lashes in the fray.

Though two swift steeds still strain with all their might,The foe called Sixty binds them in the fight.

The singer tires of songs he made before;The nightingale and lion charm no more.

At fifty-eight I lift that bitter cup;The coffin and the open plain draw up.

Alas for flower, musk, and limpid spring,For thirty, and the Persian blade’s keen ring.

The pheasant leaves the wild rose far behind;Elm blossom, cypress bough now please its mind.

Grant me a little respite, Maker bright,To finish what remains within my sight.

Through this renowned old book may there remainA tale of me when I have left this plain.

Whoever judges speech with justice dueMay speak of me with kindness, firm and true.

To him who bears the pulpit and the blade,I turn, that intercession may be made.

The Prophet’s Household claims my heart and trust;Before his Successor, I bow in dust.

Once more I turn to what the dehqan knew;Now hear the ancient tale he told as true.

The news reached Kavus: “Siavash lies dead!The lord of Turan struck away his head.

As one might strike the head from some small bird,So fell the guiltless prince, and grief was heard.

On every mountain creatures of the wild cried,And mourning rose across the mountainside.

The nightingale lamented from the bough,While pheasants grieved beneath the roses now.

All Turan burned with sorrow everywhere;Pomegranate leaves turned yellow in the air.

Gurvi Zereh set a basin made of gold,And turned him like a sheep within his hold.

He struck the royal head from body clean;No rescuer, no champion intervened.”

When Kavus heard, his crowned head drooped low,And from the throne he bowed beneath his woe.

He tore his robes and scratched his face with cries,Then fell from high throne, dust before his eyes.

The men of Iran raised a mourning cry,And warriors grieved beneath the darkened sky.

Their eyes ran blood; their faces yellow grew,A cold wind from Siavash through spirits blew.

Tus, Gudarz, Giv, and Shapur came to mourn,With Farhad, Bahram, all with sorrow torn.

They clothed themselves in dark blue, black array,And wore dust for crowns through that mournful day.

In Nimruz Rostam heard Iran’s great cry,While boiling dust rose black against the sky.

“Kavus has heaped dust upon his royal crown,His robe is torn; Siavash’s head struck down.”

When Rostam heard, he fell bereft of sense;Through Zabul rose a mourning vast, immense.

Zal clawed his cheeks with fingers in despair,And heaped the dust upon his head and hair.

For seven days they mourned in sorrow’s pall;Upon the eighth the war-karnay gave its call.

From Kashmir and from Kabul warriors came,And thronged before his gate in martial frame.

With bloodshot eyes, his heart on vengeance set,He rode to Kavus, burning with regret.

As Iran’s royal city came in view,He tore his Pahlevan robe clean through.

He swore by the Sustainer of the world,By whom the vault of heaven’s wheel is whirled:

“No hour shall strip my jowshan from my frame;I wear my armor till revenge I claim.

Nor shall I cleanse the dust from face or brow;Such mourning fits the oath I utter now.

My helmet is my crown, my sword my cup;My rawhide kamand on my arm coils up.

Until Siavash’s blood receives its due,That dark-souled Turanian I pursue.”

With dust upon his head and dusty feet,He came before the king upon his seat:

“O king, the evil seed that you have sownHas ripened now; its bitter fruit is known.

Your love for Sudabeh, your crooked way,Has stripped the royal crown from you today.

Now plainly see where your own choices be:Your throne is riding on the waves of sea.

Your thought and temper brought this grievous blow;Through Iran now its bitter sorrows flow.

For one who rules, a shroud would be more fitThan to a woman’s order to submit.

A woman’s words brought Siavash to doom;Blessed the woman never born of womb.

Among the kings none stood to him so near,So free, so generous, and bright with cheer.

Alas his head and shoulder, chest and arm,His hand, his gopal, instruments of harm.

Alas his face, his stature, royal air,His foot in stirrup, poised with sovereign care.

At feast he was the spring of high renown;In war, among the champions, the crown.

At court he scattered pearls on every side;In war he scattered heads both far and wide.

While life remains, my heart and brain shall burnFor vengeance, till Siavash has his turn.

In every war my weeping eyes shall blaze;I shall pursue revenge through all my days.

As grief has burned my heart with ceaseless fire,So shall I burn the world in vengeance dire.”

King Kavus saw blood mingled with his tears,And knew how deep the grief of loss appears.

Ashamed, he gave no answer from the throne;Hot tears ran down; he wept and made no moan.

The hero turned and left the royal seat,And strode toward Sudabeh’s own retreat.

He seized her hair behind the curtain’s fold,And dragged her from the throne she used to hold.

His khanjar struck and cleft her at a stroke;Kavus sat still, and not a word he spoke.

Back to the court came Rostam, eyes blood-red;His yellow face showed grief for one now dead.

All Iran gathered round him in despair,And grief and mourning darkened everywhere.

For seven days he sat in wrath and woe,While tears of mourning from his eyes would flow.

Upon the eighth the bronze ney loudly rang,And from the koust the call to battle sprang.

Then Gudarz, Tus, and Farhad came to waitWith Bahram, Giv, and Gorgin at the gate.

Then Shapur, Fariborz, and Rohham pressed,With Guraza, vengeance burning in each breast.

Then Rostam said: “My heart, my soul, my frameI give to vengeance for Siavash’s name.

No famed rider shall gird himself for strifeAs Siavash did throughout his noble life.

Do not account this murder small or slight;Its vengeance is no little thing to right.

Cast fear away; make earth a Jihun red,A river swollen with the blood we shed.

By Yazdan, while I breathe beneath the sun,My heart seeks vengeance till the work is done.

Upon that waterless and barren stone,Where Gurvi Zereh spilled his blood alone,

I long to lay my face and eyes there low,Perhaps to ease the grief I cannot show.

Perhaps my hands like his shall yet be tied,A halter at my neck, my strength denied,

And I, like sheep, be cast upon the ground,My arms within the kamand’s curve be bound.

But if I live, my gorz and sword shall rise,And raise a Resurrection to the skies.

My eyes shall see no more but battle’s haze;No wine, no cup, no feast shall mark my days.”

Each kanarang and Pahlevan stood near,And heard the vow of Rostam, fierce and clear.

They raised one cry that made the heavens recoil;Beneath their roar the very field seemed to boil.

Their shout rose up from Iran toward the sky;The earth became a field where lions cry.

The mohreh sounded high on elephants’ backs;The warriors drew their swords for fierce attacks.

The gavdam roared; the bronze ney gave its tone,And curved bronze horns made all the valleys groan.

The world with vengeance against Afrasiab burned;The sea itself seemed boiling as it churned.

The earth was packed with warriors as they came;The air lay ambushed by their spears like flame.

The star itself seemed first to join the fight;Earth and Time washed hands of blood that night.

Iranian warriors girded, flank to flank;Kaveh’s bright banner streamed before each rank.

Then Rostam, Zabul’s champion, chose his band,The sword-bearing warriors of Kabul’s land.

From Iran and from Narvan’s wooded span,A hundred thousand warriors joined his van.

The army’s vanguard Faramarz now led,Brave Rostam’s son, sepahbod at its head.

At Turan’s border Faramarz drew near,A wary watchman saw his force appear.

Varazad ruled over Sipanjab’s land,A lustrous pearl among the warrior band.

When horns and karnays split the open air,The bells of battle answered everywhere.

His tabiras boomed out; his forces sped,From open plain toward a sea of blood ahead.

In front, with drawn blades bright in ordered rows,Were thirty thousand hard and proven foes.

He left his army’s center in a dash,And rode toward Faramarz before the clash.

He said, “Declare your name before we close;Why have you come to stand against my blows?

Do you advance here at the Shah’s command,Or from the Pahlevan’s own fighting band?

Do you not know Afrasiab’s own hand,His crown, his rule, his power in this land?

Speak now your name, and let it be declared;Then see what end this venture has prepared.

Do not die nameless by my hand in strife;Your soul will leave this darkened frame of life.”

Then Faramarz said, “Luckless chief, now see:I am the fruit of Rostam’s mighty tree.

His hand makes lions writhe when blows descend,And elephants beneath his anger bend.

Why name myself to one so base in deed,Div-born, corrupt in nature and in seed?

The elephant-bodied chief stands at my back,With strength enough to break your full attack.

To avenge Siavash he girds for war,And comes, a raging lion, with a roar.

He will raise smoke from Turan through the sky;The wind around him will not dare pass by.”

When Varazad had heard the words he made,He scorned the battle-threat that they conveyed.

He gave command throughout his ordered line:“Draw every bow and let your arrows shine!”

Both sides made ready, holding firm their ground;While iron helmets every warrior crowned.

From every side the warriors’ clamor spread,The earth boiled under hooves where horses sped.

Tabira, karnay thundered down the line,The heart of Faramarz leapt at the sign.

He charged, a raging elephant unbound,His bow upon his arm, his belt wound round.

In one fierce rush he broke their ordered wall;Across the field a thousand men did fall.

Then Faramarz advanced with spear in hand,And barred Varazad’s flight across the land.

He saw Varazad’s banner raised ahead,Then like a lion through the army sped.

He spurred his black steed and drove on his foe,His hand clenched on the spear to strike the blow.

His spear struck hard where belt and armor tied,The binding burst and opened at his side.

He raised him from the leopard saddle clear,As light as any gnat that flutters near.

He hurled him down, dismounted from his steed,And hailed Siavash, then began the deed.

He struck the head from Varazad in war,And drenched his robes in blood and crimson gore.

He cried, “This marks the first revenge we sow;The scattered seed of conflict starts to grow.”

They set the land on fire from end to end;The smoke rose high and made the heavens bend.

Then Faramarz wrote Rostam of the fray:“I opened vengeance’s gate upon this day.

I tore him from his leopard saddle-seat,Then struck him down and brought him to defeat.

For Siavash I severed Varazad’s head,And through his realm the fires of vengeance spread.”

A runner came to Afrasiab’s throne,“Rostam has marched and made the war his own.

The chiefs of Iran have gathered in might,And Varazad lies fallen from the fight.

They broke his ranks and stripped the marches bare,And burned his lands; black smoke possessed the air.”

Afrasiab grew troubled at the news,And weighed the warnings he could not refuse.

Old warnings from the wise returned with dread,From Mobadan and those the starlight read.

He summoned all his nobles to the court,And paid his troops with gold of every sort.

No loose warhorse was left across the plain,The shepherds drove the gathered herds in train.

He brought out gopal, bargostvan, and bow,With swords and shafts made ready for the foe.

With gems and coins and belts and shining crowns,He poured his treasure through the royal grounds.

The minister and treasurer unlocked stores,And opened guarded wealth behind their doors.

Through palace courts and field the silver flowed,As coin and treasure passed from load to load.

When every rank was armed and all arrayed,Among the troops the royal wealth was paid.

Tabiras rang; the Indian gongs replied,And riders turned to war on every side.

He marched from Gang and reached the open plain,Then called his son and spoke in measured strain:

“Take thirty thousand riders, swift and hard,Ride straight to Sipanjab; all rest discard.

For Faramarz is there; bring back his head,But fear the son of Zal, whose name is dread.

No living man can match you in the field,Yet he alone may make your valor yield.

Where leopard seeks the fight, no dog should go,To test its strength against a greater foe.

You are my son, my loyal strength and stay,My army’s pillar, moon that lights its way.

Be watchful; keep your judgment sharp and clear,Then none who face you there should cause you fear.

Go foremost; guard the army rank by rank,When Rostam drives against your battle flank.”

When Surkha left his father’s royal hall,He led the troops beneath the banners’ call.

He rode to Sipanjab with wind-swift speed,Resolved to answer battle’s urgent need.

The outposts saw the dust clouds rise and spread,And warned brave Faramarz of troops ahead.

Iran’s tabiras thundered through the day,And dust drew all the light of dawn away.

The riders’ cries and horses reached the sky,Past sun and Venus wheeling there on high.

Bright blades like diamonds flashed across the field,And spearpoints drank the blood that wounds revealed.

War’s fiery vapor rose above the ground,Where heaps of slain and severed heads were found.

When Surkha saw the champion through the fight,He marked his spear advancing into sight.

Then Surkha spurred his steed and took his spear,And cast his bow aside as he drew near.

Then Faramarz broke forward from the line,And met him spear to spear in harsh design.

He struck like Azargashasp, fierce and fast,Across his charger’s neck the prince was cast.

The Turan chiefs advanced to stem the blow,And pressed the fight in rage against the foe.

So hard they closed around him in the fray,His spear-shaft shattered and was swept away.

Then Surkha saw he could not hold the field,Nor make the charging Faramarz yield.

Defeated, he turned back in sudden dread,And from the field in bitter anguish fled.

Like a maddened elephant he gave chase,His Indian sword flashed bright before his face.

The Iranian riders followed in his wake,Their battle-cries made all the valley shake.

Like a fierce leopard Faramarz sprang beside,He seized his belt and tore him from his ride.

He drove the captive onward from the fight,On foot to camp, disgraced before their sight.

At that same hour great Rostam’s banner rose,Above the marching troops in ordered rows.

The elephants came on with all his train,Their thunder rolled across the open plain.

The prince rode out and reached his father’s side,And came before him in victorious pride.

Before them Surkha stood in fetters bound,And Varazad’s head lay grim on the ground.

The caves and plains lay heaped with battle-dead;The beaten enemy from combat fled.

The soldiers praised the courage he had shown,And Rostam blessed his valor as his own.

He gave much wealth to those who lived in need,Then spoke of Faramarz and praised his deed:

“Whoever rises high above the restMust join inborn strength with skill at its best.

Add wisdom, learning; let the four unite,Together they can raise a warrior’s might.

When all four join, both wing and foot arise,And bear the warrior upward toward the skies.

Of fire you see no nature but to burn;A world before it soon to ash will turn.

No wonder Faramarz has risen higher;The very heart of steel is filled with fire.

And when it strikes against the hardened stone,That hidden strength is driven forth and shown.”

Then Rostam looked on Surkha where he stood,A noble youth, upright as cypress wood.

His chest was broad, a lion’s strength and grace;The bloom of spring was written on his face.

Black musk lay patterned on the youthful rose,Across the bloom where springtime beauty glows.

He said: “Bring him before me on the plain,And summon those who deal in death and pain.

Bring basin, khanjar; bind the captive’s hands,And coil the kamand round him in its bands.

Lay him like sheep upon the bloodied ground,As Siavash lay helpless, closely bound.

Strike off his head as Siavash was slain,And let the vulture shroud him on the plain.”

When Tus the great chief heard the order given,He went at once, by duty sternly driven.

Then Surkha said: “What wrong, what bloody deed?Why must I die for another’s misdeed?

Siavash was my equal and my friend;My grief for him has known no pause nor end.

My eyes have never ceased to weep his fate,And curse the blade that struck him down in hate.

I curse the man who brought the bowl and knife,Who took the prince’s head and quenched his life.”

The heart of Tus was moved by what he heard;He felt the weight and truth of every word.

He went to Rostam, told the captive’s plea,And asked that mercy set the young man free.

But Rostam said: “May Afrasiab knowThe grief and pain his evil deeds now sow.

Let sorrow dwell within his heart always,And tears consume the measure of his days.

This youth springs from Afrasiab’s evil root,And schemes deceit, his father’s living fruit.

As Siavash lay helpless on the ground,His breast and hair in streaming blood were drowned,

So by the life and head of Kavus, king,The glorious ruler whom Iran shall sing,

I swear that every Turanian I find,Be he a king or slave of any kind,

Shall lose his head beneath avenging steel,And bear the mark of wrath that will not heal.”

He turned to Zavareh with iron tone,And gave the order, merciless as stone.

Zavareh brought the same basin and blade,Then gave him to the waiting guards arrayed.

The khanjar fell and severed head from breast,And in a breath young Surkha sank to rest.

What do you want, O world, from those you tend?Your heart-scarred captives meet a bitter end.

They hung his body head-down from the frame,His feet held high above in public shame.

He cast the dust of revenge on the slain,While soldiers hacked the body in disdain.

When Turan’s troops returned from battle red,Blood stained each body, dust lay on each head.

They said: “The noble chief has met his end,His rising fortune sank where spears descend.

His head was severed; all the troops withdrew,Their fill of war behind them as they flew.

The men of Iran stood again for war,Their hearts still burned for Siavash’s gore.”

Afrasiab then bent his crowned head low,And tore his hair while tears began to flow.

He cast the dust upon his head and cried,And tore his royal robes from side to side.

“O famed sepahbod, hero of the fight!Your rosy face once shone with moonlike light.

Your form and noble bearing fade from sight;No rest for me till vengeance claims its right.”

Then to his troops: “Our food and sleep are done;No rest remains until revenge is won.

Let armor be your bed and war your breath,And fix your minds on vengeance and on death.”

The kousts were pounded loudly at the gate,The warriors armed and gathered, grim with hate.

When war tabiras sounded on each side,No fighting man held back or turned aside.

The bronze horns sounded; Afrasiab cried,“You battle-chiefs, let courage be your guide,

Let vengeance fill your hearts in every vein,As javelins fill the bodies of the slain.”

The gavdam roared; the brazen karnays blew,And battle-pipes sent clamor ringing through.

The ground convulsed beneath the horses’ feet,Their shouting rose where earth and thunder meet.

When Turan’s army veiled the plain in dust,A scout rode hard to warn him of their thrust.

He said: “Afrasiab himself draws near;His army like a ship on waves appears.

All stand prepared to strike for vengeance now,Their claws are sharpened, blood their only vow.”

When Rostam heard the king had come for war,He formed his troops and led them to the fore.

The banner of Kaveh rose toward the sky,While purple swordlight stained the air on high.

A cry went up from both contending sides,The world was filled with war’s opposing tides.

The sun and moon seemed swallowed in the fight,The stars in whale-like jaws were lost from sight.

The king of Turan formed his vast array,With gopal and javelin for the fray.

On Turan’s right bold Barman led the throng,While Kuhram held the left, as iron strong.

Afrasiab held the army’s center fast,His ordered ranks around him deep and vast.

Then Rostam formed the army rank by rank,From center outward to each guarding flank.

The earth lay hidden underneath the haze;He held the center, armed for battle’s blaze.

With Faramarz before him, spear in hand,And Zavareh behind to guard the band.

On the left stood Gudarz and Hajir strong,While Tus and Giv held right against the throng.

With Tus and Giv the elephants stood right,The koust resounded as they formed for fight.

Then Rostam armed, his heart set hard and high,Hooves musk-darkened earth; spears leopard-marked the sky.

An iron mountain rose across the plain,Cloud-high spears and purple swords flashed like rain.

Pilsam came forward, vengeance in his breast,His face grown grim, his heart denied him rest.

Before the king, where chiefs and captains met,He spoke with pride, his heart on battle set:

“O wise and famous king, now grant me leave,Or else forbid the arms I would receive.

My horse, my jowshan, helm and blade I seek;Today I ride where Rostam might prove weak.

Today I will cover his name with shame,And bring his severed head to end his fame.

Then Rakhsh, his gorz, his world-dividing blade,Before your royal feet shall all be laid.”

The king rejoiced; new life ran through his frame,His spearpoint rose above the sun’s bright flame.

“O lion famed for valor in the field,No elephant alive can make you yield.

If elephant-bodied Rostam falls to you,The age will rest from strife and quarrel too.

In all Turan no chief will match your name,The seal and throne await your rising claim.

You will raise my head beneath turning sky;My crown and daughter shall be yours thereby.

Two shares of Iran and Turan are yours,With cities, gems, and all their treasured stores.”

But Piran came and made his sorrow known,And said: “This youth now risks his life alone.

If he should meet the matchless Rostam’s hand,His lifeless head will fall upon the sand.

He does not see where this rash road will end;His very name and honor he will spend.

The king will bear the shame if he should fall,And break the hearts of warriors one and all.

He is my younger brother, this you know;An elder’s love for younger still will grow.”

But Pilsam said: “My heart will not give way;If I should meet that warrior in the fray,

By fortune I shall suffer no disgrace;You saw me face four champions in that place.

My strength is greater now than it was then;Do not break down the hearts of fighting men.

This task lies open to my hand and eye;Give no regard to omens passing by.”

The monarch chose a warhorse for the fight,And gave it to the warrior in his sight.

A sword, a heavy gorz, jowshan and helm,And bargostvan were brought from out the realm.

Then Pilsam armed and rode with lion force,His breath like wind as onward sped his horse.

He cried to Iran’s troops in challenge clear:“Where is your Rostam? Bid him now draw near.

Bid your field-dragon face me in the fray;My claws are sharpened for the fight today.”

At this bold challenge Giv began to rage,And drew his sword, prepared the foe to engage:

“Rostam will not fight one Turanian foe;Such combat brings him shame, as well you know.”

They closed; Pilsam drove his spear with force,The blow struck Giv and rocked him on his horse.

Both feet flew free from stirrups at the blow;He swayed but held his charger even so.

Faramarz rode out to give him aid,And sheared his spear like reed with flashing blade.

He struck again; his sword was split in two,Against the helm no tempered edge broke through.

The foe wheeled like a lion in the fight,And faced the two as fresh and full of might.

Then Rostam from the center viewed the fray,Two noble champions held one man at bay.

He knew that only Pilsam fought this way;None else in Turan could hold two, men say.

He called to mind what Mobadan had said,And star-wise men who traced the paths ahead:

Wise men who knew the turns of age and fate,And read the world’s old course from first to late:

“If fortune spares him and good teachers guide,No champion then can match him stride for stride.

In Iran or Turan no warrior thenWill stand against him among fighting men.”

Then Rostam thought: “His destined hour is here;He comes himself to meet me without fear.”

He said to all his troops: “Let none advance;Hold where you stand and keep your ordered stance.

I go myself to test this warrior’s claim,To prove his strength, his spirit, and his name.”

He took a weighty spear and gripped the rein,Set firm his helm and faced the battle plain.

He braced his feet and leveled out the spear;Its polished point flashed cold as he drew near.

He weighted both his stirrups, reins let go,The shining spearpoint leveled at the foe.

Foam touched his lips; he wheeled from battle’s core,And rode at speed toward Pilsam at the fore.

He cried: “O Pilsam, called to breathe out flame,You summoned me; now answer for your claim.

You shall behold the nahang face to face,And never turn your rein to war’s embrace.

Your youth has set my grieving heart aflame;Alas for all your valor and your name!”

He spoke and spurred his swift steed, vengeance high,And swept against him like the wheeling sky.

He struck the belt with one tremendous blow,And like a ball from saddle made him go.

He bore him through Turan’s warring array,And cast him where Afrasiab held the day.

He cried, “Now cover Pilsam where he lay,In yellow diba bright against the clay.”

Then Rostam turned his rein, and from the foreRode to the army’s center as before.

Piran stood weeping for his brother slain,His lashes poured their tears like falling rain.

No healer’s art could mend the shattered frame;No remedy could call him back by name.

The heart of Turan’s army broke with grief,And darkness veiled the field without relief.

Then from both armies rose a battle cry,That rolled from bloodied earth toward the sky.

The koust on elephants began to sound,Their thunder carried far across the ground.

The earth lay spent beneath the pounding feet,The karnay’s blare made heaven leave its seat.

The mountains seemed like seas beneath the fray,The plains like mountains under war’s array.

The stones like coral, all the dust ran red;Across the field lay heaps of battle-dead.

Full many chieftains lay with heads cast low,Their blood ran dark beneath the trampling foe.

Blood seemed to rain; no father loved his son,A dark wind crossed the field where blood would run.

The dust took hold of sky and swallowed day;Then both sides charged in fierce and blind array.

The dust and darkness swallowed every sign;No rank could trace the other battle-line.

No man could tell his ally from his foe;Day sank toward night beneath the dust below.

Afrasiab said: “Our fortune fails in fight;What once stood firm now sinks from strength to blight.

If one man falters where the armies meet,No ground remains for us, no safe retreat.

Today take leopard-counsel for the fray,Rise from all sides and bar the foemen’s way;

Set ambush round them, press them hard and fast,And hurl your spears until the day is past.”

He left the center, vengeance in his heart,And struck at Tus and tore his line apart;

He struck down chiefs; Tus, shaken by the sight,Gave ground at last and turned away from fight.

A scout came through the fighting to his side,And told how Iran’s right had turned aside:

“The day goes ill; our right is bathed in gore,Our banner falls; our line can stand no more.”

Then Rostam from the center forward pressedWith Faramarz and armored troops abreast;

Before him rose a wall of shielded men,Their hostile hearts were set against him then.

All were Afrasiab’s kin, assembled near,Their hearts on vengeance, armed and free of fear.

He struck down many of that hostile horde,While Tus and Faramarz beside him warred.

Afrasiab beheld the violet sign,And Kaveh’s banner cutting through the line,

“This is Rostam, Nariman’s mighty seed,Mightiest champion known for warlike deed.”

Like some war-leopard raging for the kill,He gripped the reins and rode with iron will.

When Rostam saw the dark advancing flag,He sprang, a lion loosed upon a stag;

He gave swift Rakhsh the rein and drove him hard,And charged through every rank without regard.

He closed with Afrasiab in the fight,Blood streamed like water from his arrow’s bite.

An arrow with a willow-leaf point flew,And pierced his helmet’s crown as it drove through.

His spear drove hard against the hero’s chest,And pierced the leather binding at his vest,

But Babr-e Bayan turned the spear away;Then Rostam roared and drove into the fray.

He drove his spear into the charger’s flank;The wounded horse beneath the thrust then sank.

It crashed to earth beneath the fatal blow,And hurled Afrasiab from the saddle low.

He reached to seize him by the belt and stayHis road of war before he fled away;

But Houman saw and raised his gorz on high,Then charged at Rostam with a battle cry.

He struck the hero’s shoulder with the blow,Both armies roared as iron thundered low.

Then Rostam wheeled to see who dealt the stroke;His hold on Afrasiab at once broke.

Afrasiab escaped and found another steed,And mounted it at once with desperate speed.

The chiefs roared out; their heavy gorz all rang,And iron answered iron with a clang.

Then Rostam drove swift Rakhsh at Houman’s rear,His anger hot, his heavy spear held near.

He chased Houman, furious in the fight,But could not reach him in his headlong flight.

His destined hour had not yet come, and soFate shielded Houman from the hero’s blow.

Then men of Iran gathered at his side,To guard him from each blade the press might hide.

By hundred stratagems Houman broke through,From Rostam’s dragon-grasp the king he drew.

Once Afrasiab was safely drawn away,Houman withdrew; Rostam still sought the fray.

And Tus came near and asked him, half in jest:“Did that Gur-e-Khar strike hard upon your chest?”

He said: “No anvil forged nor stone could standSuch crushing force in such a warrior’s hand;

Yet when that gorz descended in the fray,It seemed mere wax against my chest today.”

When Afrasiab turned and fled the field,His heart still raged, though forced at last to yield.

A roar arose; spears climbed into the cloud,The fleeing plain resounded fierce and loud.

The field lay heaped with wounded men and dead,Like tulips over saffron earth turned red.

The horses’ hooves went deep through blood and gore,The elephants’ feet crimsoned more and more.

The Turanians fled like wind across the plain,While Rostam’s arm dealt justice in their train.

Like a raging dragon Rostam sped,Three farsangs after those who turned and fled.

Then back he turned, his victory complete;For turning heaven opposed the foe’s retreat.

They turned to camp with plunder richly won;Their laden ranks bore spoil when war was done.

The plain held iron, silver, gold, and spear,Horse-trappings, salich, belts lay scattered near.

When sunrise raised its head above the crest,Red ruby light across the darkness pressed.

A shout broke out; the karnays rang and roaredAs Rostam led his columns toward the horde.

They marched on Afrasiab, vengeance fed,Their faces wet with tears for Siavash dead.

The king was told that Rostam pressed behind,And vengeance thundered hard upon his line.

He drew his forces toward Chin’s sea, and foundThe broad earth narrowed, hemming him around.

Beyond their sight he drew his fleeing train,His heart was stricken, tears ran down like rain.

Before he crossed the water in his flight,He turned to Piran, burdened by his plight:

“Speak wisely: what course should now be triedConcerning this ill-fated child?” he cried.

“If Rostam takes the youngster in his hand,He will carry him fast to Iran’s land;

They will make this Div-born boy king instead,And set a new crown high upon his head.

Bring him across the water to this side,Then cast him in beneath the turning tide.”

Then Piran said: “Do not be swift to kill;A wiser course may yet avert this ill.

Remove him far beyond all prying eyes,And keep him where no rumor ever flies;

In Khutan’s bounds we keep him out of sight,Secure beyond the reach of hostile might.

Do not bring lasting blame upon your name,Nor add one further evil deed to shame.”

The king replied: “You are the lord of thought,My guide toward the good your counsel brought.

Now act at once; let no delay be shown,Fulfill the course your wisdom now has known.”

Then Piran called a noble to his side,And charged him with the task the king supplied.

A prudent man of birth and tempered will,To fetch the prince and guard the secret still;

He rode like smoke, his horse at headlong pace,And reached Khosrow within the appointed place.

There farr and royal glory met his eyes,The prince bore signs of kingship in his guise.

He praised him, bowed, and then, in words well-weighed,The royal message faithfully conveyed.

The message left no head or footing clear;Khosrow stood lost between command and fear.

He ran to Farangis and spoke in dismay:“The king commands; I cannot disobey.

He calls me down toward the distant sea;What path remains? What hope is left for me?”

They searched through every counsel they could find,But no escape appeared to heart or mind.

At last they saw no course except to go,No counsel could undo the royal blow.

They left unwilling, both with hearts oppressed,And grief went with them on the road they pressed.

Their eyes stayed full of tears through every stage,Their tongues cursed Afrasiab in their rage.

At last they reached the gate of Piran’s hall,Still worn with grief beneath the journey’s thrall.

Piran stepped down from his high seat and soughtTo learn what hardships the long journey brought.

He praised and welcomed him, his honored guest,And placed him at his side above the rest.

Food, robes, and bedding all were quickly laid,His tents and steeds with every need arrayed.

When all was set, Piran returned to bringHis tidings to Afrasiab the king.

“I brought the farr-endowed and royal boy;What further course would you have me employ?”

Afrasiab answered him without delay:“Take Khosrow farther still and send him away.

Send him beyond the Sea of Chin from here,To some far place where no great chief comes near.

Let no great chief discover where he stays,Nor find one trace along those distant ways.”

Then Piran sent him like the smoke that fled,Obeying every word the monarch said.

Beyond the farther shore the prince was sent,And no one learned the place to which he went.

The towering chief drove onward without rest,Through Turan to the Sea of Chin he pressed.

From Turan’s towns the chiefs and warriors came,Before the Pahlevan of mighty fame.

Then Rostam took Afrasiab’s royal throne,And made the conquered seat at last his own.

Afrasiab’s fortune withered and declined,While Rostam left the former reign behind.

Then Rostam spoke, his words like tempered steel:“A man of worth must bring his foe to heel.

If hostile foes attack, then strike them dead;Or count it well if from the field they fled.”

He searched the palace for its hidden gold;The people brought out wealth from every hold:

Young slaves of beauty, horses strong and swift,Rich gems and crowns and robes in splendid gift,

Brocades, carved ivory thrones, and treasure vast,With hoards from Gang laid open at the last.

Dinars and diba lay in ordered store,With bargostvan and trappings by the score.

The soldiers too were laden down with spoils,With armlets, crowns, and headgear from their toils.

To Tus he gave the ivory throne and steed,A torque, and Chakh to govern as decreed,

And said: “If any rise to challenge you,Or seek Afrasiab’s rule to renew,

Strike off his head and raise it up on high;Let vultures have him where his carcass lies.

Who seeks for wisdom, peace, and what is right,Will shun Ahriman’s road and choose the light.

But cherish such men as your children dear,And keep them free from want and grief and fear.

Do not oppress the blameless; hold the scale,And let your justice never faint or fail.

This world is a lodging, not a lasting throne;No one has ever held it as his own.

No farr surpassed great Jamshid’s sovereign light,High heaven raised him to the world’s full height.”

Then to Gudarz, veteran of the field,He gave a crown no lesser king could wield,

A torque, throne, earrings, gifts of royal grace,And Sipanjab with fortress as his place.

He praised Gudarz and blessed his honored name,A pure-hearted Pahlevan of fame.

And said: “The seal of justice rests with you;In feast and war your worth is proven true.

Birth may assist, but worth must lead the way;True rank is forged in deeds, not in display.

In honar, gohar, wisdom you combine,Three gifts that make your honored spirit shine.

Take counsel; keep your fathers’ greatness near,And stand as their memorial bright and clear.

Let all from Sipanjab to GulzaryunObey your word beneath both sun and moon.”

To Fariborz he sent a crown of gold,With dinars, gems, and riches from the hold,

And said: “Chief, Siavash, your brother, died;His vengeance now must never be denied.

For your slain brother, gird your waist and stand;Keep fast beside your saddle your kamand.

Do not give way to comfort, rest, or sleep;Make war upon him; justice you must keep.

Let justice through the world direct your way;No man through justice ever went astray.”

Through Machin and through Chin the tidings came,That Rostam ruled and all obeyed his name.

They came with gold and jewels in their hands,And said: “We serve and follow your commands;

We walk the earth to carry out your will.”The chief then saw their loyalty and skill;

He granted zanhar, spared them from the blade,Their wakeful minds had won the pledge he made.

With cheetah and with falcon he would ride,And hunt across the plains on every side.

A long time passed beneath his settled reign,While Rostam held dominion on the plain.

One day Zavareh rode the open plain,To hunt the Gur-e-Khar, and gave the rein.

He set a Turk before him as his guide,And followed swiftly over country wide.

They reached a thicket spread across the ground,So dense no passable way could be found.

With colors, scents, and running streams around,The soul drew nourishment where joys abound.

The Turk spoke out without a guarded thought:“This is the ground Prince Siavash once sought.

For this fair place he held all Turan dear;His heart found joy whenever he was here.

Here he was glad, his heart released from care;Elsewhere his days were burdened by despair.”

These words struck deep and woke long-buried grief;Old wounds broke open, finding no relief.

The words struck home; he toppled from his horse,And consciousness was lost beneath their force.

A falcon rested lightly in his hand;He loosed it; blood-red tears fell on the land.

His comrades reached him on the hunting-ground,And grief and tears upon his face they found.

They cursed the Turk who served him as their guide,And each man struck and cast him to one side.

He swore a solemn oath in grief and pain,While tears poured freely from his eyes like rain.

“From now I seek no hunt, no sleep, no peace,Till Afrasiab’s death brings my release.

I will not let Rostam rest from battle’s call;For vengeance we must arm ourselves, one and all.”

At once he went to Rostam, grief still high,And when he saw his face he raised a cry:

“Did we come here to grant this kingdom peace,Or make its pride and false dominion cease?

God granted strength and fortune to your hand;The turning sun has favored your command.

Why should this realm keep wealth and easy life?Why should one soul in it live free of strife?

Forget not vengeance for that murdered king;A hundred ages no such peer will bring.”

Roused by Zavareh’s words, great Rostam stood,And chose the course his judgment counted good.

Then killing, plunder swept from plain to plain,And Turan groaned beneath the scourging train.

From Turan down to Chin, through fire and flame, No city on the border stood the same.

The Iranians slew the young and slew the old,Their severed heads lay on the earth grown cold.

The women and the children fell as prey,For more than a thousand farsangs ruin lay.

At last the nobles, broken, bowed in dust,Came forth to plead, stripped bare of hope and trust:

“Of Afrasiab’s rule we had our fill;Not even in dreams would we see him still.

The blood he shed unjustly was his crime;We held no voice nor share in that dark time.

Though gathered here or scattered through the land,We are your servants, subject to your hand.

Now you are victor; spill no guiltless gore;Do not make war with turning heaven more.

No man can tell where Afrasiab flies,Or in a dragon’s maw he lives or dies.”

Wise Rostam heard; his prudent heart was stirred,And grief came over him at every word.

He sought the royal camp upon the plain, And summoned every captain of his train.

The seasoned chiefs assembled at his call,The wise and battle-tested warriors all.

Then one among them spoke with measured tone:“Kavus, without farr or guide, sits on the throne.

He lacks the strength to stand, the mind to guide;If Afrasiab comes in force and pride,

And strikes at Iran with a sudden blow,The old king falls, and all our hopes lie low.

We took revenge, and honor crowns our name;And burned each city down to ash and flame.

Now let us turn again to Iran’s king,And rise renewed when future battles ring.

For six long years we have not known release;Not one glad day has brought our spirits peace.

Our servants, throne, our seal and crown remain,In Iran, not upon this foreign plain.

Our bodies shine with wealth and rich array;Our souls grow less the longer here we stay.

This worldly dwelling courts us with a smile,Then hides its face and snares the heart with guile.

Do not regard this dwelling as a friend,Unless with Ahriman your counsels blend.

Wear what you have, give freely, drink and eat;This passing road grants only such a treat.”

Tahamtan gave assent to what was said; The wise Mobadan nodded where he led.

A veteran sage cried out: “Now choose delight! While life is ours, let joy remain in sight.

See who will share the dust in which you lie;Why grieve for wealth you leave behind and die?”

Great Rostam heard their counsel, shamed at heart,And turned at once from Turan to depart.

He gathered herds of horses from each side,That roamed the plains of Turan loose and wide.

Ten thousand slaves and servants formed the train,And marched beside the spoils across the plain.

With musk and marten, squirrel, ermine stored,And kamil furs among the treasure hoard.

With color, fragrance, golden diba bright,They loaded elephants with wealth in sight.

With furnishings and robes of rich design,With gold and silver gathered line by line.

With swords and salich, crowns and royal throne,They packed the loads and claimed them as their own.

They packed their loads and turned from Turan’s plain,For Zabulistan, where Zal held his reign.

Then Tus and Gudarz, Giv of proven fame,With troops toward Fars in ordered columns came.

Then toward the Shah the gathered chiefs would ride,And came before the king in ordered pride.

When Afrasiab heard the news one day,That Tus and Rostam crossed the stream away,

From Bakhtar toward the Sea of Gang he pressed,His head with war, revenge within his breast.

He found the land laid waste on every side,The nobles slain, the lesser people died.

No horse, no treasure, crown, or throne was found,No flourishing palace graced the ground.

The world was blazing; fires rose all about;The palaces uprooted, burned, snuffed out.

The king wept blood and called his captains near:“Forget no wrong that brought this ruin here.

Let vengeance fill each heart within your breast;Make shields your beds, your helmets where you rest.

Bring heaven down to earth beneath our blow,And carry war to Iran as we go.

For land, for children, treasure, and our kin,We fight until our ravaged realm we win.

Let Iran’s cities rise from shore to shore;Then march like lions where the war-cries roar.

Why shrink because they won a single day?The wind will shift and tear their strength away.

From every side bring weapons, troops, and spear;Open a fresh road to the battle here.”

He gathered ranks with spear and salich bright,And armed his warriors swiftly for the fight.

Then Afrasiab himself rode at their head,Toward Iran for vengeance as they sped.

They struck hard at Iran from every side,No respite came while raid on raid replied.

They burned the towns and stripped the forests bare,And drove the land to anguish and despair.

For seven years no rain refreshed the plain,And fortune turned; the old course broke in pain.

All men were crushed by hunger, grief, and need,The world grew strait beneath that bitter deed.

And long this harsh condition held the land,While misery endured on every hand.

While Rostam stayed in Zabul, far away,The sword-wielding Turk held the world in sway.

One night Gudarz beheld a swelling cloud,Rise water-laden from the cloudy shroud.

Upon that flying cloud Soroush drew near,And bade old Gudarz open both his ears:

“Attend: the famed Turk, dragon-like, brings pain;Hear how to break his power and end his reign.

A sovereign now in Turan comes to view;Kay Khosrow is his name, a prince born true.

The son of Siavash, a sovereign born,With honar, famed in gohar, richly worn.

From Kay Qobad his father’s lineage came,Through Tur his mother bore a royal name.

When his blessed foot shall reach Iran’s land,Whatever he asks heaven will grant his hand.

He arms himself, his father’s fall to mourn,And vows the towers of Tur shall lie shorn.

He shall make Qolzum’s waters boil in fight,Nor turn from Afrasiab day or night.

In jowshan, bent on vengeance, he shall ride,In ceaseless battle, to his saddle tied.

Yet none among the chiefs of Iran’s bandShall find him out or bring him to this land,

Save Giv alone; high heaven has decreedThat only he shall find the king you need.

To Giv has turning heaven fixed this call,And through its justice grants him grace withal.”

Gudarz awoke and bowed his aged head,And thanked the God who showed the path ahead.

He rubbed his white beard in the dust below,His heart with hope in the world’s king aglow.

At dawn the sun rose like a golden light;He took his ivory throne, the eyvan bright.

Then summoned Giv with troubled thought and care,And told the dream with weight and solemn air:

“Your steps are blessed, your fortune bright and sure,Your star ascends, both steadfast and secure.

Since your pure-hearted mother gave you birth,Praise and blessing filled the whole of earth.

By God’s command Soroush appeared on high,On wind and rain to wash grief from the sky.

He asked: ‘Why does such grief now multiply?Why vengeance everywhere, the whole world dry?

Because Kavus lacks farr and sovereign might,And strays from kingship’s old and proper right.

But when Kay Khosrow comes from Turan’s land,He turns revenge against the hostile band.

Yet none among the chiefs shall find the heirExcept for you; this charge is yours to bear.’

So heaven points to you; fulfill your part,And lift the grief that weighs on every heart.

You sought for honor long in fields of war;Now greater fame stands waiting at your door.

While men and speech endure, so shall your name;No age can dim or wear away its fame.

Through toil come treasure, honor, and renown;Through toil a humble man may win a crown.

Since none can dwell forever in this place,True fame outlives the fleeting world we face.

You bring a king to claim the rightful throne,And raise the tree of loyalty full-grown.”

Then Giv replied: “My father, I am yours;For you I stand through all that life endures.

If this be so, I gladly take the task;Your blessing is the only boon I ask.”

He rose at once to plan the road ahead,Still pondering the words that Gudarz said.

Now Giv’s own wife was of a lineage high,Born of great Rostam’s blood beneath the sky.

News reached Banu Gashasp without delay:Giv had prepared his horse to ride away.

She came to him and spoke in steady tone:“O fame-seeking chief, hear what I have known.

I hear through Turan you seek Khosrow’s trace;Then grant me leave to journey from this place.

To Rostam’s house I long to make my way,For absence weighs upon my heart each day.

Too long denied the comfort of his sight,My soul has lived in shadow, not in light.

Farewell; may fortune guard you as you go,Stay champions’ support against the foe.”

The chieftain gave consent; she left his side,And set out for Sistan with steady stride.

At sunrise earth shone green with fenugreek,As light spread gold from every ridge and peak.

Bold Giv came girded, ready for the ride,His wind-swift horse stood saddled at his side.

Then Gudarz asked, “What purpose drives your way?Who rides beside you on the road today?”

He said, “O Gudarz, steadfast, brave, and wise,Whose noble spirit shines before our eyes,

My horse and coiled kamand are all I need;No other man shall ride beside my steed.

If men ride with me, pursuers draw near;And then I may be forced to battle here.

My kamand at the saddle, swift my mount,In Indian silk, the gear on which I count.

I make the plains and mountains my domain,Until a guide appears upon the plain.

Through no town will I pass along my track;They will know my face and bring ruin back.

Through your good fortune, if my task is done,I shall return with joy beneath the sun.

Keep little Bijan sheltered in your care,And guard him well from what the years may bear.

Teach him the arts of battle, court, and field;Train him to know when sword or cup to wield.

Though a child, I have seen his spirit rise;The marks of manhood stand before my eyes.

Farewell; remember me, but set grief aside;Let not my absence cloud the light inside.

I cannot say if we shall meet again;God’s hidden will lies past the minds of men.

When you wash your face and kneel down to pray,Ask the Creator to protect my way.

For He is higher than all worldly fame;The greatest lords are servants of His name.

No day revolves except beneath His will;Our sleep and food obey His order still.

He formed the earth, the heavens, time and place;The strong and weak alike reveal His trace.

In Him lie hope and fear, and all our birth;Lord of the water, fire, wind, and earth.

Perhaps the Just will guide me where I go,And lead me to that lord whom all men know.”

The father aged, young the warrior bold;His mouth for war stood open, none could hold.

He knew not if his son would meet his eyes;His heart was overturned by their goodbyes.

Then Giv dismounted, took his father’s hand,And kissed it as the aged chief did stand.

The father clasped him tightly to his breast,And kissed his face and head before the quest.

Old Gudarz cried, “O Just One, lend Your aid;To You alone my prayer and grief are laid.

His mind, his soul, his life I give to You,This famed young son, courageous, strong, and true.

Release our land from hardship and despair;Return my youthful son into my care.”

How many hardships men have learned to bear,For greatness they have chosen toil to share.

At last no bed remains except the dust;No nush-daru can cure its fatal thrust.

You know you cannot linger long below;Why crown your head with greed before you go?

The greed you cherish also meets the grave;The pit will swallow all you sought to save.

Enough of fleeting joys the world can yield,When others reap the harvest of your field.

You labor while another takes his ease;He will not seek your grave when labors cease.

His joy too ends; the dust will claim his head;His laughter joins the silence of the dead.

Then think how swiftly every day must pass,Let worship of the Just One hold you fast.

However long you stay, you must depart;No road returns once death has claimed the heart.

Choose goodness; never cause another pain;Salvation’s road is this, both clear and plain.

Set not your heart upon this passing sphere;It will not stay forever with you here.

Wise heart, wake now and leave all doubt behind;Pull free your foot from mire and clear your mind.

The Maker is the One who fashions you;You are His handiwork and servant too.

When wisdom bows your neck before His might,Do not dispute existence in His sight.

Do not break bread or sleep with those who claimThat God does not exist beyond a name.

His heart is blind, his head has lost its guide;The wise no longer count him at their side.

His signs of presence shine on earth and sea;Let knowledge keep your nature clear and free.

All power and knowledge are His to command;He fashioned soul and reason with His hand.

When Turan’s ruler thought within his breast,“I rise above the greatest and the best,”

He slew that youthful prince in lawless pride,Then harsh and bitter fortune turned its tide.

From his own stock the Maker raised a tree,Its boughs grew heavy for the world to see.

That tree repaid him as his deeds had earned,And dust through brain and royal eyvan churned.

He rules the sun, and Saturn, and the moon,From Him come victory and royal boon.

Source of existence, source of truth and right,From Him come gain and loss, increase and blight.

No road lies outside His command and plan;The sun and moon cannot His wisdom span.

By His command bold Giv his waist then bound,And came like some fierce lion to the ground.

Alone he went, no comrade at his side,His sheltered life to God he would confide.

He rode until he reached Turan’s frontier,And seized each lone man who would venture near.

In Turkish, he would question captured men,And ask where Kay Khosrow was dwelling then.

If one replied, “I have no news to tell,”Giv struck him dead, and where he stood he fell.

He hung the corpse within his kamand’s bend,Then heaped the earth above him at the end.

So none could learn his secret or his name,Nor hear report of how the stranger came.

At length he chose a traveler for guide,And brought him on the journey at his side.

Alert, he journeyed with him day by day,But kept his secret hidden on the way.

One day he said, “One answer I require;Speak truth to me and earn what you desire.

If what you know proves truthful from the start,Your knowledge may wash falsehood from the heart.

Whatever you may ask, I will provide;Not life nor body shall from you be denied.”

The guide replied, “Knowledge is vast and deep,But scattered among men, for each to keep.

If I possess the answer that you seek,You will not find me empty when I speak.”

Giv asked, “Where is Kay Khosrow now concealed?Speak truth to me, and let it stand revealed.”

He answered, “Never have I heard that name,Nor has another asked me of the same.”

At that reply, Giv swung his sword around,And with one stroke he cast him to the ground.

Like one gone mad, brave Giv searched far and wide,For signs of where the hidden prince might hide.

Seven long years he wandered without rest,While sword and girdle galled him, sore oppressed.

Fed on Gur-e-Khar, in their hides he fared,And drank salt water all the wild had spared.

Through desert lands and mountain paths he went,In ceaseless toil, his days in exile spent.

Far from all men, in hardship and in pain,He roamed the wild with nothing left to gain.

At that same time, bold Rostam crossed the tide,And brought his army to the nearer side.

Afrasiab returned to Gang, his hold,And seized again the realm he ruled of old.

He said to Piran: “Bring the prince awayFrom Machin; to his mother take him straightaway.

But guard the roads and watch each hidden trail;Let none pass through; let vigilance prevail.”

A messenger rode forth on camel strong,And brought the son of Siavash along.

The prudent son of Siavash came home,Back to the land where he once used to roam.

They brought him home to where his mother stayed,And peaceful years rolled on, his fears allayed.

Time passed while Giv still wandered, worn and torn,Through Turan’s lands in grief and sorrow borne.

One day, weighed down by anxious thought and care,He reached a fruitful grove, abundant, fair.

He wandered through the meadow, pale and worn,While all the world seemed bright, his heart forlorn.

The earth lay green, the streams ran full and wide,A place for rest and ease on every side.

He loosed his horse and let it roam at will,Then slept upon the ground, and troubled still.

He said: “Did some evil Div deceive his sight,And dress Gudarz’s dream in seeming right?

No trace I find of Khosrow anywhere;What profit lies in all this fruitless care?

While comrades fight and feast in distant lands,And chase their joy or fame at fate’s commands,

My fortune, like a walnut on a dome,Can never rest, nor find a settled home.

I waste my life; my back bends like a bow;My fruitless labor brings me only woe.

Perhaps no prince was ever born below,Or time has cast him where no man can go.

This quest has yielded hardship, grief, and pain;Blessed the one whom poison frees from strain.”

With sorrow in his heart he roamed the plain,Still searching meadows, restless and in vain.

At last beside a shining stream he sawA youth whose beauty filled his soul with awe.

Tall as a cypress, wine cup in his hand,A many-colored wreath above him spanned.

His bearing showed the farr of royal right,And wisdom’s banner shone before Giv’s sight.

He seemed Siavash, living and restored,On ivory throne, with crown of royal lord.

The scent of love arose from that bright face,His locks seemed made a royal crown to grace.

Giv thought: “This is the prince I sought to see;That royal seat is made for such as he.”

He left his horse and went on foot ahead,While hope revived the spirit he thought dead.

As nearer still he came, his grief withdrew;The knot of seven years of sorrow flew.

The treasure long concealed now met his eyes,His years of sacrifice earned this great prize.

When Khosrow saw him standing by the stream,His heart grew glad as one awaked from dream.

He smiled and thought: “This must be Giv the brave,The man foretold, who comes my life to save.

Such form and bearing show a spirit high;He comes to lead me home to Iran’s sky.”

The prince stepped forward from his resting place,And spoke with calm assurance, face to face:

“O Giv, well met, with farr and justice bright;How did you cross this border in your flight?

What news of Tus, Gudarz, and Kavus’s throne?Are they all well, and is my name still known?

What of brave Rostam, towering in his might,And Zal, and all who stand prepared to fight?”

Giv heard these words and stood transfixed with awe,Then praised the God whose guiding hand he saw.

He said: “O noble chief, exalted one,All hearts still yearn for you, long-lost king’s son.

You are the son of Siavash; now I knowKayanian blood and Khosrow’s farr you show.

But tell me, noble prince, and answer true:Who spoke of Gudarz and his house to you?

Who spoke of Keshvad, who of Giv? Who broughtThese names to you? What faithful tongue has taught?”

The prince replied: “My mother told me all,When my dear father faced his final fall.

My father spoke, his God-given farr still bright,And gave his final counsel at grief’s height:

He told my mother all that fate would send,The evil that would reach us in the end.

‘At last Kay Khosrow shall arise and reign,The key that opens every binding chain.

Then famed and valiant Giv shall Turan find,And come from Iran with his task in mind.

From Iran’s land to lead him to the throne,And make his royal worth and power known.

His strength shall cleanse the world and right each wrong,And vengeance shall be his, both just and strong.’”

Then Giv replied: “O head of all the great,What sign confirms the farr that marks your state?

Siavash bore a dark and royal sign,Like one black spot within a rose design.

Reveal your arm and let me plainly seeThe sign that proves your noble pedigree.”

The prince then bared his arm without delay,And showed the royal birthmark clear as day.

A dark birthmark from Kay Qobad’s old line,A Kayanian token, clear in its design.

When Giv beheld the sign, he bowed to earth;His tears proclaimed the truth of Khosrow’s birth.

Giv clasped the Shah and blessed his royal name;And joy rose in his heart like sudden flame.

The prince gave thanks and asked of Iran’s state,Of throne and kings, of warriors and fate.

Of Rostam fierce, and Gudarz wise and old,And how the chiefs of Iran’s realm might hold.

Then Giv replied: “O lord of fortune bright,If God showed Paradise before my sight,

And gave the seven climes beneath my hand,With Kayanian crown and high command,

Though crown and throne and all dominion were mine,No gift could make my heart so brightly shine.

To see your face here in this foreign landSurpasses wealth and power, however grand.

None knows in Iran whether I survive,Or lie beneath the earth, or burn alive.

If I could see Siavash alive again,I would ask him what grief he suffered then.

But thanks to God, who brought my toil to end,And turned my grief to joy, my heart to mend.”

Together then they left that wood, and straight,Khosrow then asked of Kavus and his state,

Of seven years of hardship, food, and sleep,And all the grief his lonely road made deep.

Giv told what God had set beneath the sky,The dream, his food and garb, the years gone by.

How Kavus’s farr had faded from its height,And grief had stripped the aging Shah of might;

How Iran’s color, fragrance, wealth had fled,And ruin spread where prosperous life had led.

Khosrow’s heart burned to hear such sorrow told,His cheeks flushed red, his spirit fierce and bold.

He said, “Your pain gives way to ease at last;Be as my father now your trials are past.

Tell no one what has happened here today;And watch what time and turning fortune say.”

The prince mounted upon brave Giv’s own steed,While Giv went first on foot to take the lead.

With Indian sword in hand he ranged ahead,And anyone who met him soon lay dead.

He struck each neck until the foe lay red,Then earth and dust above the corpse he spread.

So on they went along the course they made,And reached the walls where Siavash once stayed.

When heart and reason steadied from their fear,They brought Farangis to their counsel near.

The three resolved together to depart,Unseen by hostile warriors from the start.

“We must depart unseen,” the lady said,“Or else all hope of freedom shall be dead.

If we delay, the world will close us round,And every road to freedom will be bound.

Afrasiab will hear and lose all rest,Then turn from food and sleep, by rage possessed.

He will come like the White Div in his might,And sweet life then will vanish from our sight.

Not one of us will then remain alive,By open means or hidden, none survive.

The world is filled with enemies and fear;This land is held in Ahriman’s dark sphere.

Hear now my counsel, son endowed with farr;Keep every word, for danger is not far.

There lies a meadow, not far from this way,Apart from where the riders of Tur stray.

At dawn, with Giv, take saddle, bridle black,And to that meadow follow hidden track.

You will behold a mountain reaching high,Where clouds rub faces on its crown of sky.

A running stream flows clear across the ground,Its sight renews the soul with joy unbound.

At noon the sun stands high without a sound,The chieftain’s hour of rest at last comes round.

Then every herd upon the mountainsideComes down to drink beside the flowing tide.

Show Behzad then the saddle, bridle black;If he grows tame, step gently on his track.

Approach him gently, let him see your face;Then call and stroke him softly in that place.

For Siavash lost hope in earthly light,And day itself grew dark before his sight.

To Shabrang Behzad then Siavash said,‘From this day forth by no man’s will be led.

Stay on the mountain, graze the meadow near,Till Kay Khosrow, your seeker, shall appear.

Become his steed and make the whole world quake;Sweep foes from earth beneath your hoofbeats’ wake.’”

The valiant prince mounted on Giv’s own steed,While Giv on foot went first and took the lead.

They turned toward heights as men who seek a way,And climbed the rugged slope without delay.

When herds came down and drank beside the brink,They turned away, their thirst relieved by drink.

Prince Khosrow hastened toward the shining spring,Intent upon the task that hope might bring.

He showed Behzad the saddle, bridle dark,In hope his purpose now would hit its mark.

The steed beheld the king and sighed from deep,Then stood stock-still beside the water’s sweep.

He saw Siavash’s pard-skin saddle-seat,Long stirrups and the quiver at its feet.

Behzad stood rooted by the flowing tide,And from the watering-place he would not stride.

Prince Khosrow saw him calm and hurried near,And bore the saddle forward without fear.

Brave Shabrang stood motionless in his place,And opened wide his eyes upon that face.

Then Khosrow wept, and faithful Giv wept too,As though fierce fire were roasting both the two.

Their tears poured down; their tongues in anger cried,And curses fell on Afrasiab’s pride.

Khosrow stroked eyes and face with tender care,His chest and mane, and smoothed his flowing hair.

He bridled him and saddled him, the heirRemembering his father in despair.

Then Khosrow mounted, pressed him with his knee;The mighty steed rose up immediately.

Like wind through air the mighty Behzad flew,And in an instant vanished from Giv’s view.

Amazed and troubled, Giv cried out in fear,And called on God, convinced the end was near:

“This must be Ahriman in subtle guise,A mighty Div-horse before my fearful eyes!

The prince is lost, and all my toil is gone;That toil was all the treasure I had drawn!”

Halfway along the mountain’s rugged side,He drew the reins and waited for his guide.

When Giv arrived, he turned with knowing air,And spoke as one who read his hidden care:

“Shall I reveal what thoughts have filled your mind,What fears and doubts within your heart I find?”

Giv answered: “Prince exalted, keen and clear,No veil conceals a thought when you draw near.

Through farr and Kayan burz you read so fine,You split a hair and see its inner line.”

He said: “You saw this noble steed appear;A troubled thought arose, and doubt and fear.

You thought: ‘Ahriman has come to fightThis youthful prince and steal him from my sight.

Now he is gone; my labor falls apart;The Div rejoices while grief fills my heart.’”

Giv then dismounted, bowed his humbled head,And blessed the prince, then raised his voice and said:

“May fortune bless each season of your reign,And cast your foes in lasting loss and pain.

For God gave burz, royal splendor, rank, and farr,With honar, gohar, shining from afar.”

They left the heights and toward the eyvan went,Their thoughts upon the coming road intent.

They came to Farangis, and what they saidWas all about the long road stretched ahead.

They guarded well the purpose they had made,So none might learn the secret plans they laid.

When Farangis beheld the noble steed,Her wounded heart began once more to bleed.

She pressed her cheek against his mane and chest,And called Siavash’s name in deep unrest.

When tears were spent, she turned without delay,And toward her laden treasury made way.

Within her eyvan lay a hidden store,Unknown to any living soul before.

There lay dinars and dirhams, rubies rare,And precious gems preserved with secret care.

With gopal, bargostvan, khanjar, blade,And heavy gorz, for battle all arrayed.

Her cheeks grew red; her tears began to run;She opened all the treasure to her son.

She said to Giv: “O chief who bore this pain,Choose from my treasure what you wish to gain.

Take dinars, royal gems, and rubies’ fire,Or choose the jeweled crown if you desire.

We merely guard it; all this wealth is yours;The toil and risk were yours through all those years.”

He kissed the ground, then raised his grateful face:“O foremost lady among woman’s race,

Through you the earth becomes spring’s Paradise;And heaven brings both good and ill before your eyes.

May all the world bow down before your son,And all your foes be crushed and overrun.”

When Giv beheld the arms prepared for strife,He chose Siavash’s jowshan, worn in life.

They gathered gems to carry on the road,And chose the richest pieces for the load.

They chose a helm and bargostvan, and foundSuch arms as fit a Pahlevan renowned.

Then sealing fast the hoard, they turned away,And made things ready for the desert way.

When all was set, they saddled their swift steeds,Those famed and tireless mounts of proven deeds.

Fair Farangis placed a helmet on her head,Then all three mounted, and like wind they sped.

Toward Iran they turned in urgent flight,And traveled secretly, concealed from sight.

But secret flight could not remain concealed,For word soon reached Piran: all was revealed.

A messenger approached him in alarm:“Giv came from Iran, mighty in his arm.

He found the prince, and he has fled our ground,With Khosrow and Farangis, homeward bound.”

Piran grew grieved, his limbs began to shake,Like branches trembling in a storm’s fierce wake.

He thought: “The king’s dark warning now is true;The thing he feared has now at last come due.

What answer can I give Afrasiab now?My standing darkens underneath his brow.”

Kulbad and Nastihan were called to lead,Two hardened chiefs renowned for martial deed.

Three hundred Turkish riders he arrayed,Then sent them forth; this was the charge he made:

“Ride hard; do not so much as scratch your head;Stay in the saddle; drive your horses ahead.

Set Giv’s head high upon a lifted spear;Beneath the dust make Farangis disappear.

Bind Khosrow fast, whose step brings evil fate;His coming casts ill fortune on the state.

If once that ill-starred prince should cross the tide,What ruin then will fall on every side?”

So forth they rode, a fierce and chosen force,The two sepahbods driving on their course.

Meanwhile Khosrow and Farangis both lay,Exhausted from their long and weary way.

The road was long, the night had brought them strain;So Giv stood guardian while the two had lain.

While both lay sleeping, Giv stayed wide awake,His eyes fixed on the road that riders take.

His horse in bargostvan stood battle-dressed,Prepared for war at his rider’s behest.

In jowshan, helmet, Giv stood fierce and dread,His body pledged to death, all terror shed.

Giv saw afar the dust the riders raised,He drew his sword; his battle-spirit blazed.

His cry like thunder shook the plain and sky,Till darkness veiled the lion’s brain and eye.

He swept among the riders like the dust,And turned the earth to lapis with his thrust.

With khanjar, then with gorz, he struck from high,And rained down iron as he thundered by.

Beneath Giv’s gopal blows the chiefs gave way,Their hearts grew sick of battle and the fray.

Giv’s heart laughed in the fury of the fight;The sea itself seemed but a spring in sight.

The dense ranks closed around him every side,A raging mass of horsemen in their pride.

The spears like reeds grew thick across the field,Till sun and moon alike from sight were concealed.

The lion grieved within that spear-thick stand;Blood turned the reed-bed to a wine-red land.

Giv struck down many riders in the fight,Till all the horsemen wearied of his might.

Then Kulbad said: “A mountain stands in sight,Of granite rock in shoulder, flank, and height.

It is Khosrow’s bright farr that guides each blow,Not Giv alone who lays our warriors low.

What fate now waits our fields and mountain plain?None can resist what Yazdan shall ordain.

The stars foretell disaster for our throne,For Turan’s lords and lands we call our own.”

Then all their troops advanced in fierce array,And clashed with Giv, who held them all at bay.

The battle cries and blaring horns rang round,Till mountain roots were shaken underground.

The caves and plains were heaped with bodies dead;The earth like arghavan was crimson-red.

The routed ranks broke loose and fled in fear,And turned from Giv, no longer drawing near.

Wounded and spent, the broken force withdrew,And rode to Piran, battered through and through.

But Giv returned, blood staining breast and hand,A blood-soaked lion from the slaughtered band.

He came to Khosrow: “Prince, rejoice today;Free now your mind from care and grief away.

Kulbad and Nastihan pursued our trail,With all their force, but even they would fail.

Those who survived fled wounded from the field,Their shoulders, chests, a grief no words concealed.

No horseman lives in all of Iran’s land,Save Rostam, who against my strength could stand.”

Khosrow rejoiced and praised Giv’s noble name,And blessed the hand that won such lasting fame.

They ate what food they found without delay,Then hastened onward by the trackless way.

Meanwhile the Turanian troops reached Piran’s side,Defeated, scorched, and stripped of all their pride.

He spoke in anger: “Hide no wonder here;Whatever you have seen, make all things clear.

Where are Khosrow and Giv? What came to pass?Speak truth to me; concealment shall not last!”

Then Kulbad said: “The tale I tell is true;O Pahlevan, I open speech to you.

When I recount what Giv did in the fray,Your heart will turn from battle’s field away.

You have seen me lead chiefs through battle’s flame,And often praised my valor and my name.

I pressed him so, I thought his fall was near;His downward course already seemed quite clear.

More than a thousand gopal blows I laid,Yet he stood firm and fearless, never swayed.

His head seemed like an anvil, hard and vast,His chest and arms like elephant tusks built to last.

I have seen Rostam raging in the fray,And heard of men who never turned away;

Yet never have I seen a man endureSuch crushing blows and still remain secure.

Though every gorz had been as wax and thin,And every spearpoint made of leopard skin,

His limbs should still have shattered from the strain,His frame been crushed beneath that ceaseless rain.

He drew new strength from every stroke I threw,And roared, an elephant, with fury new.

One man alone our massed ranks overthrew,Till heaps of slain like mountains round him grew.”

Piran grew angry. “Enough!” then he cried;“To tell such shame disgraces warrior pride.

How can one rider merit all this fame?Why speak so much of one lone warrior’s name?

Seek no more combat with the men of war;You rode with noble Nastihan before,

With troops like lions, yet because you fled,You made of Giv a mad elephant instead.

Your fame among the mighty now lies low;Afrasiab will hear and surely know.

He will cast down the crown in grief and shame:Two Pahlevans, two horsemen known to fame,

With troops equipped and ready for the fight,Then from one warrior turned and took to flight,

While he struck many down in battle’s course;Yours now are taunts; not gopal, koust, or force.”

Piran selected from his ranks a force,One thousand riders set upon their course.

“Ride swiftly now,” he said, “and spare no rein;Pursue the fugitives across the plain.

Let no man rest nor loosen belt or gear,For danger draws and ruin presses near.

If Giv and Khosrow reach Iran’s own side,Then Iran’s women will like lions stride.

No land or water will remain our own;Afrasiab, when told, his heart will groan.

His heart aflame, he lays the blame on me,Not star, nor sun, nor moon’s own high decree.”

They rode like wind at Piran’s stern command,And swept in haste across the open land.

Without a halt they drove their horses fast,Across the plain their urgent riding passed.

At last they reached a river deep below,Their ranks spread warp and woof beside its flow.

Its bed was deep, but narrow was its span;To cross its waters daunted every man.

That stream was Gulzaryun, its current dread;In spring it ran with blood, a sea of red.

Across the bank lay Khosrow, Giv asleep,While Farangis alone the watch did keep.

She searched the distant reaches of the land,And saw afar the Turanian chief’s command.

She hurried back and raised a warning cry,And broke their sleep as danger drew close by.

She cried, “Rise, warrior, worn by toil and pain;The hour of battle looms before you plain.

Their horsemen follow underneath the moon;I fear that time will close around us soon.

If they should take you, you will surely die,And grief will seize our hearts beneath the sky.

Khosrow and I in chains they will then bearTo Afrasiab, past all help or prayer.

The secrets of high Heaven none may know,Nor what new sorrow fate may yet bestow.”

Then Giv replied: “O noblest of your kind,Why let such anxious terrors fill your mind?

Ascend the height with Khosrow, do not fear;No harm from Piran’s men shall reach you here.

The World-Creator stands with me in fight,And fortune’s star burns steady in my sight.

By Yazdan, Maker, I shall take the field,And show what mounted skill can make them yield.”

Then Khosrow spoke: “O warrior bold and tried,Long you have borne this burden at my side.

I have escaped calamity’s dark net;The dragon’s maw should not consume you yet.

Let me advance against them on the plain,And with my sword cast blood toward heaven’s domain.”

But Giv replied: “O prince of noble birth,The world still needs your crown upon the earth.

My father is a Pahlevan, and I;Who after you could wear the crown on high?

Seventy-eight brothers stand within my line;What loss is mine if one life must decline?

For Pahlevans are many, kings are few;Few? None but you stands plainly in my view.

If I should fall, another chief will rise;The royal crown will still endure in wise.

But if you perish here, no man remainsFit for the crown and fit to hold the reins.

Then seven years of toil are cast away,And shame upon my lineage long will stay.

So climb the heights and watch the army stand;The World-Creator will uphold my hand.

All victory that comes, your farr bestows;Beneath your wings the whole wide world still grows.”

Giv donned his jowshan, rode with lion’s zeal,His steed beneath him strong as tempered steel.

The chief stood here, the army gathered there,The river flowed between and barred the pair.

Giv roared aloud like thunder in the spring,And challenged Piran, leader of the wing.

Piran grew angry, cursed him in reply:“You base-born wretch, ill-starred beneath the sky!

Alone you come before this army’s line,One warrior facing all these ranks of mine.

The javelin’s point shall be the food you meet;A hawk’s sharp claws shall be your winding-sheet.

Though like an iron mountain you may stand,A thousand swarm like ants at my command

Will tear your armor open, seam by seam,Then drag your headless corpse through dust unseen.”

Then Piran spoke a proverb of the deer:“When Time has reached it, death itself draws near.

Then Time begins to count each breath it spends,And drives it running where its journey ends.

So Time has brought you here before my face,Before this famed assembly in this place.”

Then Giv replied, his voice with fury rife,And roared, the chief of chiefs, prepared for strife:

“O Turk of evil gohar, Div-born seed,May none like you command where armies lead!

For Siavash you saw my vengeance fall;You know the wounds my blows have dealt you all.

From Turan and from Chin your chiefs I slew;Beneath my hand their blood in battle flew.

I plundered all your household in the fight,And struck at your own life with all my might.

Your noble women fell beneath my power,From Khutan dragged in chains that bitter hour.

One was your sister, one your wedded mate,And both stood trembling for your threatened fate.

I gave them both to men of lowest birth,And cast your vaunted honor to the earth.

You turned your back and fled in fear and dread,Like women overcome with grief, you fled.

You need men’s aid, as any woman might;Among brave warriors claim no manly right.

Through ages chiefs shall mourn your lasting shame,While rud and minstrels sing your tainted name.

They will then tell how Giv bore Khosrow free,And name you both in shame for all to see.

Great princes sought alliance far and wide,Faghfoor and Caesar and Chin’s Khan beside.

And Kay Kavus’s kinsmen, chiefs of fame,The golden-helmeted, all sought the same.

They sought brave Rostam’s daughter as a bride,And sent their marriage offers from each side.

Even Tus sent his marriage suit in pride,Yet Rostam mocked his claim and cast it aside.

Tahamtan turned from every offered tie;Not one seemed worthy in his searching eye.

Brave Rostam searched the world, and everywhereHe found no warrior worthy of his heir.

At last from every suitor he chose me,And gave his child, more dear than crown could be.

Banu Gashasp, his eldest child by name,A rider and a champion known to fame.

From all those great ones, Rostam chose me best,And raised my glory far above the rest.

My sister too, the fair Shahr-Banu, wedGreat Rostam; moon of women, so all said.

Save mighty Rostam, elephant in fray,No equal have I known before this day.

When next with Rostam I pursue your end,Prepare the dirge your mourners then shall send.

With this blue khanjar I will darken your sight,And turn your shining world to endless night.

If any man of yours escapes my hand,Then strip from me the title of a man.

I bear Kay Khosrow toward Iran’s great throne,And bring him to the Shah whose fame is known.

On the ivory throne I will seat him then,And crown his head with light before all men.

Once more I don my jowshan, nor shall failTo turn all Turan to a lion’s vale.

I am Giv, son of Gudarz, Keshvad’s line,Among the chiefs, the foremost name is mine.

You luckless Piran, cursed in rank and name,No crown or realm shall ever bear your claim.

My kamand’s curve will seal your coming death;Your jowshan, helm, shall shroud your final breath.”

Piran grew furious, heart with anger drowned,While bitter tears within his eyes were found.

He gripped his mount and urged it into flight,His heavy gorz upon his shoulder tight.

Like some swift vessel, through the flood he flew,And praised the One whose grace is ever true.

Giv made no haste to test him in the fray,But watched until the chief had cleared the spray.

Then Giv turned down the slope and seemed to flee,Though battle still inflamed him inwardly.

Piran drew near him, furious in the fight;The world around them darkened into night.

When far from river, army, rank, and line,Giv raised his battle-gorz with bold design.

He wheeled and charged the chief with gorz in hand,A raging dragon sweeping through the land.

Before the gorz, lion Piran fled;While Giv pursued him hard his charger sped.

Unseen, he drew his kamand from its place,And freed its coiling loops in secret chase.

He whirled the loop and cast the kamand wide,Its tightening curve swept toward the rider’s side.

His kamand caught Piran’s head in its bend,And tore him from the saddle at the end.

He cast him down on foot in deep disgrace,And dragged him far away from river’s place.

He threw him down and bound his hands, and thenHe donned his arms and mounted up again.

He seized Piran’s banner in his hand,And rode to Gulzaryun where troops still stand.

The Turanians saw their leader’s standard rise,And hurried forward, fooled by their own eyes.

A shout arose with karnay sounding high,With bronze-toned ney and Indian bells nearby.

Then Giv entered the water like a ship,Driven by waves beneath their surging grip.

He raised his heavy gorz above the tide;The army stared in wonder from its side.

With reins held light and stirrups firm in place,He struck their ranks and drove them in disgrace.

With sword and driving force and violent blows,He cast them down and scattered all their rows.

The fallen made the plain a mountain high;His gorz had worn their bravest warriors dry.

The chiefs turned back, the lion drove the flock,And shattered all resistance in the shock.

Their lines broke loose and fled in wild dismay,While Giv rode through and cleared himself a way.

He crossed the stream again so fresh and strong,As though no battle had delayed him long.

He hastened back to where Piran was bound,To strike him dead where he lay on the ground.

He dragged him on foot in shame and fear,Bewildered, far from where the stream ran near.

Before Khosrow the captive came in dread,His cheeks turned yellow, low he bowed his head.

Then Giv dismounted, bowed down to the ground,And honored Khosrow with respect profound.

“This faithless man is now within your hand;The dragon’s maw has caught him where I stand.

Through your words Siavash lost his noble head;As he became mere wind, so shall you,” he said.

Then Piran bowed and kissed the ground in grief,And spoke his plea before the royal chief:

“O prince of wisdom, sun among all men,You know my grief and all I suffered then.

For you I challenged Afrasiab’s decree,And bore the danger that it brought to me.

Had I stood near when danger closed his way,Siavash might be living here today.

By counsel, skill, and care I rescued you,And from the Div’s grasp saved your mother too.

So by your farr and fortune set me free;From this fierce dragon’s grasp deliver me.”

Giv looked to Khosrow, pausing to awaitThe Shah’s decree upon the captive’s fate.

Fair Farangis stood weeping at his side,And cursed Afrasiab, tears she could not hide.

She spoke to Giv: “O chief, steadfast and strong,Who bore the pain of wandering so long,

This aged lord, though numbered with our foes,Is wise and generous as his conduct shows.

After the Just Creator, it was heWho saved us both from death and set us free.

His love became the shield our lives had found,He asks for zanhar now on that same ground.

So grant him life, O valiant one and strong;For never was his counsel bent to wrong.”

Then Giv replied: “O foremost, worthy praise,May this world’s Shah stay young through all the days.

I swore an oath by moon and royal crown,And by the Shah’s high throne of great renown:

If once in battle I should bring him low,His blood would dye the earth with crimson flow.”

Then Khosrow said: “O lion, guard your soul;Fulfill your oath, yet keep his body whole.

Pierce only Piran’s ear with khanjar-blade;Thus let the oath you swore be duly paid.

When from your khanjar blood has reached the ground,Let love and vengeance both therein be found.”

Giv saw the Shah’s warm heart and tear-wet face,And read the azarm joined with royal grace.

He pierced Piran’s ear there with his blade,And thus the oath he swore was fully paid.

Then Piran spoke: “O prince of noble line,On foot I cannot reach those troops of mine.

Restore my steed, and count that gift aloneAs life and all possessions now my own.”

Then Khosrow spoke to Giv and thus replied:“Return his horse to him, O lion tried.”

Then Giv replied: “O battle-tested chief,Why has your strength grown faint, your courage brief?

If you would have this wind-swift steed to ride,Your hands must first be tightly bound and tied.

Now swear a binding oath, both strict and true;By covenant these bonds may loosen you:

That none shall loose you on your homeward way,Nor cut these bonds nor cast the cords away,

Save Golshahr, foremost wife within your hall,Who knows your skin and marrow, and knows all.”

Piran agreed and swore with lifted hand,And bought his horse and life by oath’s command.

“None shall release me till she cuts me free;Golshahr alone shall loose these bonds from me.”

Then Giv bound fast his hands and brought his steed,And set him in the saddle with all speed.

Then Farangis and Khosrow both embracedThe chief with love, as parting now they faced.

He took his leave and blessed them as he went;To Khosrow and to Giv his prayers were sent.

The sun grew dark in Afrasiab’s sight,When word of Khosrow reached him in his flight.

He sounded karnays, bronze-toned, loud and clear,And called his horsemen swiftly to draw near.

He left his palace like a raging fire,And drove ahead consumed by wrathful ire.

He made two marches one and did not stay,And sped, an arrow from the bow, away.

He reached the place where Kulbad fought before,And saw the field still strewn with blood and gore.

The troops lay scattered, broken, far and wide,And heaps of fallen men lay side by side.

He asked: “What force from Iran formed this band?No man saw such an army cross our land.

Who then carried word to that Div-born heir,That Siavash had left a son, and where?

Had dust been foster-mother to that head,My eyes would not behold this day,” he said.

Then Sipahram replied: “This grief were lightHad some great army brought us to this plight.

Brave Giv came from Iran, a warrior bold;No second warrior did our scouts behold.

One man alone exhausted all our band;Then Giv, the Shah, and Farangis left the land.”

The monarch’s face grew pale at what he heard,His heart was struck and shaken by each word.

He said: “The sages spoke of this before;Their words have now proved true forevermore.

When Yazdan grants a man auspicious fate,He brings him to the throne, though small his state.”

As Afrasiab listened, all could hear;An army from the distant road drew near.

With Piran at their head in sorry plight,His face and hair ran crimson from the fight.

The king believed: “He comes, the battle won,And brings me news that Giv is overrun.”

But drawing near, the king looked hard and sawThe army’s chief exhausted, bruised and raw.

Bound like a stone upon the saddle’s height,His hands were fastened tightly out of sight.

The king, astonished, spoke in grief and dread:“What fate befell you? How were you thus led?”

Then Piran said: “No raging lion known,Wolf or tiger matches what he has shown.

Though standing all alone upon the field,He struck such fear that seasoned warriors reeled.

His battle-breath could make the nahang fear,And burn within the sea when Giv drew near.

He fell upon us, heavy gorz in hand,Like blacksmith’s hammer pounding through our band.

At horse and foot, at mane and stirrup-side,He struck, and downward crashed the mounted pride.

He struck our champions dead across the field,And gave no thought to all our ranks could yield.

Our swords fell thick as rain from clouds on high,Yet still he stood, steadfast and fierce of eye.

Within the saddle Giv endured each stroke,As firm as mountain stone, and never broke.

At last our troops broke ranks and fled the field,While I alone stood firm and would not yield.

He wheeled in flight, his kamand whirled around,And snared my head and hurled me to the ground.

My senses failed, and in a swoon I lay,My head and strength had both been swept away.

He left his horse and bound my hands there fast,Then mounted, driving me before him past.

Again, shamed, dragged before Khosrow, I boreA fresh brand burned into my spirit’s core.

He raised his sword to end my life in shame,But Farangis stepped forth and stayed his aim.

She spared my life; he pierced my ear instead,Then bound my hands behind me as I bled.

I swore by Shah, by sun and moon and crown,By sovereign God, and bound my promise down:

Hard was the oath in which he had me bound;My fortune turned, no other path I found.

That none should loose me till I reached my home,Nor cut these bonds no matter how I roam.

So bound I rode; what secret Heaven hides,I know not, nor why pure Mehr from us slides.

One moment head and hair in kamand lay,The next in oath and bonds I rode away.”

Afrasiab heard; his anger filled his eyes,And tears of rage began at once to rise.

One fierce shout drove Piran out of the hall;The captive turned and said no more at all.

Then, loud with wrath and curses, swore the king;His oaths rang out with fury in their sting:

“Though Giv and Khosrow thunder like a cloud,And sweep like wind, however fierce and proud,

I will drag them down from heaven,” he cried,And drew the sword that hung against his side:

“With well-tempered sword I will strike them dead,And pour my vengeance down upon each head.

Farangis, once she falls within my sight,Shall find her world grown narrow, dark as night.

My sharpened sword shall cut her body through,Then cast her to the fish beneath the blue.

If Khosrow seeks Iran beyond our reign,What does Farangis hope, with him, to gain?”

Piran rode on toward Khutan in grief,While Afrasiab rode, the lofty chief.

He and his chiefs toward Jihun swiftly sped,His wrathful hem seemed drawn through rivers red.

He said to Houman: “Hasten; lose no day,Ride hard and reach the river while you may.

If Giv and Khosrow gain the farther strand,Then all our toil is wind across the land.

Long since a sage foretold what now we see,And spoke of fate from which no man breaks free:

From Tur and Kay Qobad a line shall rise,A king shall rise, born of those ancient ties.

He shall make all Turan a thorn-choked land,And leave no settled place or town to stand.

Iran he loves, but to Turan will showA face of vengeance burning toward the foe.”

Now when brave Giv and Khosrow reached the tide,They sought with urgent haste the farther side.

They found the toll-man waiting by the shore,And soon their words broke into sharp uproar.

Then Giv spoke first: “Where is your swift-set sail,A boat fit for Kay Khosrow without fail?”

The toll-man said: “What difference rank or name?The river treats both low and high the same.

If you would cross, then pay the proper fee;No man, however high, may cross for free.”

Then Giv replied: “Name what you wish as toll;The foe is near; speak quickly, name the whole.”

The toll-man heard and swiftly ventured near,Then turned to Giv and made his purpose clear:

“No trifling toll is what I ask from you;Of these four things, surrender one as due:

Your jowshan, or your horse of darkest hue,The serving woman, or the Shah’s crown too.”

Then Giv replied: “Your wits have gone astray.Do words like these befit a man today?

Were every toll-station a city’s seat,You might claim some share of what you meet.

But who are you to make such wild demand,A wind-head weighing air within his hand?

You claim the Shah’s own mother in your pride,And ask his crown as toll upon this tide!

Or take Shabrang Behzad, peerless in force,Who outstrips the wind; no swifter horse!

Or strip me of the jowshan worn in war,Whose knotted craft no eye can fully explore.

No water harms its iron, linked entire,And not one ring gives way before the fire.

No spear, no Indian sword, no arrow’s flightCan pierce this jowshan, break its woven might.

The water is for us; the boat is yours;Yet toward the Shah your insolence endures.”

Then Giv addressed the prince: “If Khosrow’s nameIs truly yours, this flood shall bring no shame.

When Fereydoon once crossed the Arvand’s tide,His farr made all the world bow at his side.

If Shah of Iran, refuge of the brave,Why should you fear the fury of this wave?

With farr and royal station as your right,How can these waters overcome your might?

If your mother or I sink in the deep,Do not lament; your life is ours to keep.

The world desired the child your mother bore;The Shahanshah’s throne will lack its king no more.

My mother bore me for this very end,To serve your throne, your royal life defend.

Delay, or Afrasiab soon will ride,And reach us raging at the river’s side.

He will then hang me from the gallows high,Then cast you both to fish, or hooves, to die.”

Then Khosrow said: “Enough. So be it done.My refuge rests in Yazdan, saving One.”

He left his steed and cried in fervent need,Then laid his face upon the dust to plead:

“You are my refuge, strength, and guiding way;Your justice lights the darkness of my day.

In ease and hardship, farr from You it springs;My soul and wisdom shelter beneath Your wings.”

He rose, a morning star before their sight,Then mounted Shabrang, radiant and bright.

He urged the dark horse into Jihun’s tide,And like a ship across the flood did ride.

With Giv and Farangis close at his side,All three passed through the swelling waters wide.

Beyond the flood they reached the farther land;He washed his head and body on the strand.

Among the reeds he prayed with heart made pure,And praised the Maker, whose great works endure.

The ferryman, amazed at what he saw,Stood stunned and silent, filled with fear and awe.

He said: “Behold a marvel none can meet;No mortal mind could grasp so strange a feat.

In springtime Jihun, through its raging spans,Three steeds, three jowshans, three bargostvans.

No sage would number them with mortal kind,Who crossed such depths and left the flood behind.”

He cursed the raw demand that he had made,And saw his market ruined by the trade.

He loaded all his goods into his boat,And raised its sail to follow, set afloat.

He came behind the Shah to make amends,And reached him where the riverbank extends:

A bow, a casque, a kamand finely wrought,With all the goods his ferryboat had brought.

But Giv replied: “You witless dog!” he cried.“You claimed the stream would sweep us in its tide.

To such a Shah, who asked you for a boat,You gave refusal, keeping it afloat.

Now keep your gifts; your offerings are vain;A day will come when you recall this pain.”

The ferryman withdrew in grief and dread,As though he bade farewell to life instead.

Still sore afraid, he neared the ferry lane,The Turanian army reached the river plain.

He saw no boat, no rider in the stream;Afrasiab cried out, his wrath a scream:

“How did that Div cross Jihun’s raging span?What secret path was found by such a man?”

The ferryman replied: “My father keptThis toll before me; I in turn accept.

Yet never have I heard or seen it saidThat Jihun could be crossed like earth instead.

In flood-time no one entering survives;The waves drag all beneath and take their lives.

Yet these three riders crossed as though they flew,As if the sky itself had borne them through.

They seemed as though the wind itself gave birth,Or Yazdan sent them among men on earth.”

Afrasiab grew pale at what was told,And sighed from grief, his breath and spirit cold.

He said: “Launch now the boat with all your might;Make ready fast and follow in their flight.

See where the fugitives have gone from here,Or whether they lie sleeping somewhere near.

Bring up the boat; no longer pause or wait;We must discover where they stopped of late.”

Then Houman spoke: “O king, restrain your fire,And do not let rash fury rule desire.

Would you pursue Iran with this small band,And fall to lions waiting in that land?

Gudarz stands close with Piltan Rostam near,And Tus, and Gorgin, breaker of the spear.

Have you grown weary of your throne and crown,To seek the lions’ claws that strike you down?

Your realm from Chin to Machin still endures;The sun, moon, Saturn, Pleiades are yours.

No harm from Iran need disturb you now;Hold fast your realm beneath your royal brow.”

So from Jihun they turned with hearts blood-red,And afterward long days and seasons fled.

When Khosrow and brave Giv reached Zam, mankindKnew joy and sorrow in the world combined.

Then Giv sent messengers through hill and field,With letters written, signed, and firmly sealed:

“From Turan comes the prince of Qobad’s race,The blessed Khosrow, born to royal grace.

He crossed the Jihun’s fierce and surging flow;Beneath his steed its waters rushed below.”

He chose a man discerning, wise, and true,A loyal rider, steadfast through and through,

From Zam’s renowned and trusted men was he;Giv told him all that passed, then gave decree:

And said: “Ride hard, to Isfahan proceed,Where kings reside and noble warriors lead.

Tell Gudarz this: ‘Though sleeping, you could see;Your spirit stayed awake and showed what would be.

Kay Khosrow now stands safe within Zam’s gate;May no ill wind disturb his royal state.’”

He wrote as well to Kavus, Iran’s king,And sent a swift-paced messenger on wing.

The foam-flinging camels sprang away,Like fire they sped and never checked their way.

He reached Gudarz at last with urgent speed,And stood before the chief to tell his need.

He gave the letter, told what Giv had said;Gudarz received it, pressed it to his head.

The old chief wept Siavash, grief made new,And cursed Afrasiab for blood he drew.

The courier came to Kavus, worn and wet,And wiped the camel manes of foaming sweat.

He then entered the great royal hall,And cries of joy rang out from wall to wall.

The king received the letter Giv had sent,And jewels on its written words he spent.

The world was decked in joy from end to end,And minstrels summoned, song and praise to blend.

Word of Giv’s victory reached Rostam’s ear,In Nimruz, bringing welcome joy and cheer.

He gave the poor his gold with open hand,For Giv the lion safe and whole did stand.

Then Banu Gashasp rode forth with wealth in train,Fire-swift she hurried over road and plain.

Twelve hundred chiefs renowned in every land,With jeweled crowns and thrones, rode in her band.

Three hundred attendants joined the throng,Six score young pages bore gold cups along.

The lady left her father like a bird,And flew upon the road as soon as stirred.

Toward Giv and Isfahan she took her way,With Rostam’s wealth displayed in bright array.

“The prince has come! The royal heir draws near!”And all the land was filled with hope and cheer.

The nobles gathered from the farthest place,And turned toward Isfahan with eager pace.

Gudarz prepared his hall with splendid care,And hung rich brocades, finely woven, rare.

A throne was set with jewels, gold, and light,Fit for a king of sovereign rank and might.

A charger decked with torque and earrings gleamed,Beside a crown with royal gems that beamed.

He had the city and the meydan dressed,Then mounted to go meet his royal guest.

The nobles of renown rose at his call,And made themselves prepared to greet him all.

Eighty farsangs they rode out to meetThe royal heir and bow before his feet.

When Giv appeared with Khosrow at his side,The warriors dismounted, ranks spread wide.

Gudarz beheld the Shah upon the way,And Giv beside him as they neared that day.

Then yellow tears ran down the old chief’s face,As Siavash returned to memory’s place.

He stepped down from his steed and drew him near,And clasped the young Shah close with love sincere.

He praised him, bowed, and spoke in accents clear:“O king of earth, may fortune hold you dear.

May fortune keep you wakeful, crown on head;No realm or throne would serve me in your stead.

May every evil eye be turned aside,And may your father’s soul in joy abide.

Yazdan, who rules the world, my witness be:The sight of you restores the life in me.

Were Siavash living here before my eyes,No deeper joy within my heart could rise.”

He kissed brave Giv upon the eyes and head,“You drew to light what heaven hid,” he said.

“You brought my dream to life, a warrior strong,And know when patient waiting must be long.”

Then all Iran’s great chiefs bowed to the ground,And placed their faces on the earth around.

They turned again rejoicing on their way,Their fortunes brightened from that very day.

They reached the hall of Gudarz filled with light,And feasted there in joyful, long delight.

For seven days they drank and celebrated,Their hearts with wine and victory elated.

Then on the eighth day, joyful at the start,They took the road toward Kavus, glad of heart.

When Khosrow stood before the royal throne,The world with scent and color brightly shone.

The walls and roofs were hung with precious things,While music rose from harps and flutes and strings.

Rosewater, wine, and musk the courts supplied,And saffron richly scattered far and wide.

The horses’ manes were drenched with scent and wine,While sugar, dirhams, lay beneath the line.

Tears filled the eyes of Kavus at the view,As Khosrow’s face shone radiant and new.

He left his throne and stepped down from his place,And pressed his eyes and face to Khosrow’s face.

The youthful prince bowed low with royal grace,Then hand in hand, they sought the throne’s embrace.

The Shah asked news of Turan and its king,And of the throne from which its warlords spring.

The prince replied: “That man of little worthStill spreads his evil over all the earth.

Why ask of him? May joy be his no more;May crown nor throne be his forevermore.

He slew my father in a shameful way,And struck my mother cruelly that day.

He sought to kill me in her womb beforeMy birth; may grief pursue him evermore.

When I was born, he sent me far away,To mountain lands where beasts and cattle stray.

Among goats, buffalo, and herds I stayed,And counted passing days by sun and shade.

At last came Piran riding from the height,And placed me before Afrasiab’s sight.

I trembled then before his savage face,And feared what doom might lead me to disgrace.

He questioned me, but I concealed my mind,My wisdom and my honar kept confined.

If he spoke heads, I answered him with base;If he asked food, I answered him of place.

God clouded all his wisdom and his sight,And he judged me witless in his spite.

He deemed my mind devoid of worth or art,Then cursed me, sent me to my mother’s part.

Though skies of purest white poured pearls like rain,My father’s killer cannot friendship gain.”

Then Kavus said: “O prince of high renown,The world itself has need of such a crown.

Of noble gohar, sprung from noble line,Wise and deserving as great Shahs who shine.”

Then Khosrow spoke again to Kavus Shah:“O world-experienced king, hear what I saw.

If I recount the deeds that Giv has done,You will hear his trials; every single one.

You would be struck with wonder at the tale;No greater measure could the mind unveil.

He crossed through Turan searching far and wide,And met each hardship with a steadfast stride.

Had Giv endured no other sacrifice,To bring me back from Turan would suffice.

Two mighty chiefs pursued us with their band,Like blazing flames across the desert land.

No raging elephant in Hind could showThe deeds I saw from Giv against the foe.

No nahang rising from the deepest seaCould fight in such a way as he for me.

Two Pahlevans and all their army fled,And every man recoiled from him in dread.

Then Piran, lion-like, rode into sight,Upon a wind-swift horse, prepared to fight.

But Giv let fly his kamand with great might,And caught the chief’s head in its loop drawn tight.

I pleaded for him in the heat of strife,Or Giv had surely taken Piran’s life.

His heart for what befell my father bled,And no ill word against us had he said.

He saved my mother and he rescued meFrom Afrasiab’s raging cruelty.

Else Afrasiab would have struck me dead,As once from Siavash he severed head.

Till Jihun’s bank he fought through every raid,His ox-head gorz at every turn displayed.

Then through the Jihun Giv passed on with me,Heedless of water or dry land was he.

May such a warrior, steadfast, brave, and bold,Remain forever young and never old.”

When Kavus heard these words, his face grew bright,Like spring’s first rose beneath the morning light.

He clasped brave Giv, kissed head and face, and thenHe honored him before his noblemen.

He blessed Gudarz, his country, and his land,And called down blessings on them where they stand.

He gave brave Giv a robe of honor rare,Whose like no great or humble man could wear.

On parniyan a royal charter namedKhorasan, Rey, Qum, Isfahan, proclaimed.

The Jamshid-farr Shah granted him the land,And Giv raised high his head where all could stand.

The Shah declared: “Your toil is now repaid;Take now your share of treasures here arrayed.”

Then Gudarz and his sons, with voices raised,The Shah and all his royal bounty praised.

Before the Shah they placed their heads on earth,And each called blessings on the monarch’s worth.

A rich retreat for Farangis was made,With golden torque and earrings there displayed.

In every eyvan golden seats were laid,With Chinese brocade grandly overlaid.

The Shah then said: “O peerless Lady, hear;May grief not bend you through the coming year.

You left your land, your home, your kin behind,And bore the road’s hard trials with steadfast mind.

Now Iran is your home, secure and wide;Henceforth your counsel shall become my guide.”

The women all blessed Farangis in prayer:“May time and earth preserve you in their care.”

At Istakhr stood old Keshvad’s palace grand,The nobles prized its splendor through the land.

When from King Kavus’s throne at last they rose,They made for Keshvad’s eyvan as they chose.

Gudarz went with the Shah toward that bower,And reached the golden garden in its flower.

They placed the prince upon a golden throne,And blessed him there as Shah before his own.

Iran’s great champions girded at the sign,But Tus, son of Nohzar, turned from the line.

He held the koust and golden shoes of state,And Kaveh’s banner, signs that marked the great.

Gudarz grew angry, hot with wrath inside,And chose brave Giv to bear his words to Tus’s side.

A champion’s grip was strong within his hand,A lion’s arm renowned throughout the land.

He said: “Go speak to Tus, son of Nohzar:Seek not dispute when joy has come so far.

The nobles and the lions of the courtHave blessed the prince, united in support.

Why heed a Div and turn your head away,Nor see the ruler’s farr that lights his way?

If you refuse young Khosrow as your king,Then feud with Gudarz is what you will bring.

These words are mine; the gathered chiefs agree;Go bear our message, Giv, by their decree.

Stand before Tus and speak what you have heard;Tell him: ‘Turn not your head from any word.’”

Giv left his father, turning from his place,His heart filled full of harsh words for the case.

He said: “O Tus, this counsel you now choose,Has found no fellowship with wisdom’s use.”

Then Tus replied: “Do not make sport of me;Such mockery does not suit our dignity.

In Iran, save for Rostam’s towering might,I stand the foremost in the field of fight.

My line descends from mighty Manuchehr,Whose sword brought all the world beneath his care.

My father Nohzar ruled the earth as king,From Fereydoon’s old stock my branches spring.

In battle I am lion in my pride;I tear the elephant’s heart, the leopard’s hide.

Yet without me you shaped the council’s plan,And raised a new king over every man.

I will not stand behind this reckless choice,Nor speak of Khosrow with approving voice.

If Afrasiab’s seed should take the throne,Then Iran’s fortune sleeps, its power flown.

We need no king sprung from Pashang’s seed;No flock can prosper where a leopard feeds.

Such toil for one so young has gone astray;For Khosrow is but young, though bold in fray.

A king needs honar, gohar, din, and farr,The marks that show how fit for rule men are.

Fariborz, son of Kavus, stands more fitThan Khosrow does, upon the throne to sit.

No enemy blood runs through his noble line;His farr and burz, his mehr and justice shine.”

Then Giv rose grimly from the chief’s own place;His knowledge and his creed seemed raw and base.

He said: “O Tus, renowned in battle’s course,Turn not away when koust calls forth the force.

When spears of Gudarz’s kin advance in line,Your hopes of gain will wither and decline.

Together we have borne long toil and strain,Yet now you cast it to the wind as vain.

Had farr and sound good counsel been your prize,No king from Alborz would have had to rise.

No crown rests on your head; your mind lacks light;No royal wisdom keeps your judgment right.

For God bestows the throne on him aloneWhose farr and burz with soundest judgment shone.”

Thus spoke he fiercely, turning from the place,And left in anger, scorning Tus’s face.

Returning, Giv told Gudarz what was true:“With Tus no farr or wisdom has its due.

His eyes seem blind to what they ought to see;He chooses Fariborz for sovereignty.

No king like Khosrow graces eyvan bright,Nor rides the golden saddle with such right.

No rider like him comes through Iran’s land;On throne, with torque and earrings, none so grand.”

Gudarz in wrath declared: “May Tus grow less,May his renown diminish through excess.

Now let him learn whom throne and rule befit,Whose farr, orung, and fortune sanction it.”

His sons and grandsons, seventy-eight in all,He called the koust to meydan from the hall.

Twelve thousand fighting horsemen, rank on rank,Rode out on steeds in bargostvans, flank to flank.

A messenger came straight to Tus with word:“Gudarz has marched; his koust has now been stirred.”

Then Tus, the battle-chief, came forth in force,With koust on elephants along his course.

His warriors girded tight for coming strife,The Kaviani standard rose to life.

When Tus beheld the troops that Gudarz led,The sun and moon grew dark above his head.

A mighty elephant, of stately gait,Advanced; its turquoise throne shone bright, ornate.

Upon that throne sat Khosrow crowned and bright,His waist was girded, stern and full of might.

Two hundred elephants around him spread,Till earth itself seemed hidden where they tread.

He shone like moonlight from the royal throne,A ruby crown above his temples shone.

His armlet, torque, and earrings flashed with light,His ox-head gorz held firmly for the fight.

Then Tus reflected, troubled in his mind:“If battle starts, what ruin shall we find?

Countless men on either side would fall,And this feud would not leave Iran at all.

Afrasiab would rejoice to see this day,And Turan’s fortunes wake while ours decay.

The Shahanshah’s throne could pass to Turan’s reign,And all the days of our good fortune wane.”

He sent a man both swift in mind and wise,To reach King Kavus and speak before his eyes:

“If but one shaft be set upon the bow,A feud will rise whose end no man can know.

Such feud would fill Afrasiab with delight,And be the only dream he sees all night.”

When Kavus heard these tidings, wise and grave,He sent for Gudarz and for Tus the brave.

He sent a messenger from royal hall,To reach the champions with his urgent call:

“O world-experienced lion, hear me speak:Pour not black poison in the milk you seek.

Sheathe now your swords, unbind your belts of war;Let no harm rise from what has gone before.

Let both sepahbods come before my seat,Each one alone, and face to face to meet.”

Then Tus and Gudarz came, their duty known,And spoke before the king in measured tone.

Tus said: “If you are weary of what kingship brings,If weary too of throne and crown of kings,

Then let your son inherit throne and might;The diadem and treasure are his right.

Why should a grandson take the royal place,While still a son remains of kingly race?

In him the Kayan farr and burz appear;He girds himself like lion without fear.”

Then Gudarz said: “Your wisdom is too small;No wise man counts you wise among them all.

No man has equaled Siavash in worth,So generous, noble, gentle on this earth.

And this world-seeking prince, Siavash’s son,In face and form, the two would seem as one.

Though on his mother’s side he springs from Tur,Yet royal blood and justice both endure.

No man in Iran or Turan is his peer;Why speak such raw and unripe counsel here?

You have not seen his stature, face, and frame,Nor known the mehr that shines about his name.

He crossed the Jihun, seeking not a boat;Kayanian farr and sense kept him afloat.

As Fereydoon once crossed the Arvand’s tide,So Khosrow passed with royal farr as guide.

Through courage, and the farr Yazdan displays,He bound the evil heart and hand and gaze.

For father’s blood, the prince now takes his stand,A lion girded, vengeance in his hand.

He will restore the peace of Iran’s land,And hold Afrasiab’s wits in command.

Soroush revealed in dreams his destined rise;His farr shall still Iran before our eyes.

When he assumes the crown and kingly seat,The world shall rest from hardship and defeat.

You spring from Nohzar’s line, no stranger here;Your father too was rash; your madness clear.

Were arms at hand, your breast and shoulders redWould swim in blood before this quarrel fled.

My sword would wound you in the field outright,And end your empty boasting in the fight.

You sow division through the Kayan line,And cast yourself in pride by your design.

The Shahanshah knows whom his heart will own;To him the king will give the royal throne.”

Then Tus replied: “O chief made wise by age,Your words bring little pleasure at this stage.

If Keshvad’s line gives honor to your name,I am Tus, Nohzar’s son of royal fame.

If your blade cleaves an anvil with one blow,My spear can split Mount Kaf and lay it low.

Why should we two now fight, and to what aim?The Shah knows well which prince deserves the claim.”

Gudarz replied: “Enough of what you say;I see no such great honor in your way.”

He turned to Kavus: “World-experienced king,Keep to the rightful path in everything.

Call both worthy princes to your seat;Both young, both worthy, both for kingship meet.

Then judge which prince has burz and godly farr,And which is worthier of rule by far.

Bestow the crown on him who proves most fit,And gladly see your son as monarch sit.”

Kavus replied: “This counsel is not right;Both sons are equal in my heart and sight.

Whichever I choose, the other will complain,And turn against me with a heart of pain.

I will devise a trial none may blame,So neither turns resentment on my name.

Let each lead troops to Ardabil and ride,Each with his own array, as I decide.

At Bahman-diz upon that border height,All year Ahriman keeps alive the fight.

The God-worshipper suffers Ahriman’s hand;No Mobad dares to settle in that land.

Who with the sword that fortress overthrowsShall have the treasure that the Shah bestows.”

Gudarz and Tus both heard the royal plan,And praised the wise foundation it began.

The two agreed and judged the counsel best,For neither knew a wiser road or test.

Upon this pact they set their hearts that day,Then rose before the Shah and went their way.

When Sol in Leo rose and night withdrew,And heaven cast the darkness out of view,

Then Fariborz and Tus, of Nohzar’s line,Came before Kavus; Tus spoke his design:

“Now will I take the army in array,With elephants and koust to lead the way.

I will lift high the Kaviani sign,And stain the foe’s proud face with blood like wine.

By Fariborz’s farr and Kayan might,I will bind on my Kayan girdle tight.”

The Shah replied: “Count neither few nor more;Yazdan of sun and moon grants strength in war.

If Fariborz consents to take the field,Then muster all; let no man idle yield.”

Then Tus advanced beneath Kaviani’s sign,With forty golden-shod chiefs kept in line.

Fariborz held the center, proud and fine,While Tus led elephants, a sight divine.

When they approached the fortress on the height,The earth breathed fire and burned with searing light.

The spearheads glowed beneath the burning air,And warriors burned, all consumed by fire’s glare.

The world was fire; no shelter could be found,And Ahriman’s dark snare was all around.

Its battlements rose high to heaven’s vault;No warrior could wage a fair assault.

Then Tus declared: “When warriors meet a foe,They cast their foeman’s head to dust below.

With sword and bow, with arrow and kamand,They seek to strike the foe who makes his stand.

But round this fortress not one path was shown;If any lay there, none to us was known.

Our bodies boil beneath the jowshan’s heat,And mounts burn fiercely underneath our feet.

Think well upon it: if you fail this day,No other man will ever force a way.”

Seven days long they circled round that place,Yet nowhere could they find its gate or trace.

In hopelessness from battle they withdrew,And gained but toil from the long road they knew.

When news reached Giv and Gudarz of defeat,That Tus and Fariborz had made retreat,

They armed for war; the elephants stood round,As Khosrow’s army raised a thundering sound.

A throne of gold with emeralds inlaidWas on a mighty elephant displayed.

A violet standard rose above the line,While golden shoes upon his feet did shine.

A ruby torque, a jeweled crown of gold,Completed all the splendor they behold.

Then rose the cry: “This day the world is new;World-seeking Khosrow sits in royal view.”

The prince upon the golden throne was placed,With crown and gorz, in royal glory graced.

With Gudarz, Giv, and all the gathered band,He marched against the stronghold of the land.

When they drew near, he donned his arms for war,Then mounted, girded like the kings before.

He called a scribe while seated on his steed,And bade him write a blessed royal screed.

In Pahlavi with amber they began,The royal letter written by his plan:

“From Khosrow, servant of Yazdan on high,Whose grace has raised my throne beneath the sky,

Who broke from Ahriman’s enclosing band,And turned to Yazdan with a stainless hand,

Eternal, high, the giver of all good,The guide who shows the path as no man could;

Yazdan of Saturn, Mars, and blazing Sun,Lord of all farr and strength, the Mighty One,

Who gave me orung, Kayan farr to bear,An elephant’s frame and lion-claws to tear.

The whole world now has entered my command;My light and royal farr shine through the land.

If Ahriman should hold this fortress here,He stands against the Creator, plain and clear.

By pure Yazdan’s farr and high decree,His cloud-high head shall fall to dust through me.

If sorcerers command this fortress wall,Against their magic I need no troops at all.

My kamand’s loop shall seize each wizard’s head,And bind them fast within its circling thread.

Though blessed Soroush should dwell within these towers,By Yazdan’s word, alone I match their powers.

I am not sprung from Ahriman’s dark line;In soul and body farr and burz are mine.

By Yazdan’s word this fortress shall be freed;The Shahanshah’s own word is now decreed.”

Then Khosrow took a long and mighty spear,And bound the royal letter, plain and clear.

He raised it like a standard in the air,And sought no prize but royal farr to bear.

He called to Giv and gave him this command:“Take up this spear and do as I have planned.

Bear forth this letter, stern in warning, high,And bring it where the rampart meets the sky.

Invoke Yazdan, then turn your reins away;Do not remain beside the wall or stay.”

Then faithful Giv, with blessings, rode to fight,The spear in hand, toward the fortress height.

Through Khosrow’s farr he fixed it in the wall,The royal letter set beyond recall.

He praised Yazdan, the giver of the good,Then wheeled his white horse swiftly as he could.

The famous letter vanished; in its steadA crash rose up, and dust above it spread.

By Yazdan’s high command the rampart split,Its mighty wall was torn from where it knit.

Like thunder with the spring wind came the sound;From mountain, field, and plain the roars resound.

The world turned black as Zangi’s face in night;Sun, Pleiades, and moon were lost from sight.

A dark cloud rose and filled the shrouded air;The heavens gaped like lion’s jaws laid bare.

Then Khosrow urged his black horse with a cry,And called his Pahlevans, his gorz held high:

“Let arrows fall like rain upon this hold,As storm clouds pour their torrents fierce and cold.”

A cloud poured down a deadly storm of hail,Its diamond-hard blows swept the wall and vale.

By arrows many Divs lay slain around,And Ahriman’s own creatures strewed the ground.

At last a radiant light began to break,And darkness fled as dawn began to wake.

A blessed breeze passed over field and height,And smiling earth and air grew clear with light.

The world shone like the moon, serene and white;The Divs withdrew, by Khosrow’s word, outright.

The dust sank low; the gate, no more concealed,Stood clear before the army, now revealed.

Then Khosrow entered through the opened gate,With old Gudarz beside him in his state.

Within they found a broad, fair town whose wallsHeld gardens, eyvans, meydans, palace halls.

Where light arose, the fortress crest withdrew;Its sharpened battlement had vanished too.

He ordered there a mighty dome to rise,Its summit reaching black clouds in the skies.

Ten kamands long, ten wide, its measure ran,With lofty arches set around its span.

Half a horse-gallop from the dome’s broad frame,He raised Azargashasp’s enduring flame.

The Mobadan and astrologers came,With sages gathered, honoring its name.

He stayed until the fire-temple shone,With scent and color, fully raised and known.

When one full year had passed within that ground,He loaded baggage; mounted troops stood round.

When news of Khosrow’s triumph reached the land,His godly farr and royal state were grand.

The realm stood struck with wonder at his height,His farr and stature blazing into sight.

The chiefs of Iran came in joyful line,And scattered nisar before the royal sign.

Then Fariborz approached with noble band,A force like mountains rising from the land.

He saw the prince and sprang down from his steed,While Khosrow left Shabrang with equal speed.

His uncle kissed the prince upon the face,And set a golden throne within that place.

On turquoise throne he placed the royal heir,And blessed him Shah, a jeweled crown to wear.

Then Tus approached beneath the Kaviani sign,With koust and golden shoes in ordered line.

He bowed to earth and laid them at his feet,Then spoke in words both measured and discreet:

“Now judge who best deserves these signs of state:The koust, gold shoes, and standard blessed by fate.

Look through the army; judge the worthiest here,And choose the Pahlevan who has no peer.

For one who erred, life is a treasure still;To live is wealth enough beneath your will.”

Tus begged forgiveness for the words he said,And cast his futile counsel from his head.

Then Khosrow laughed, and Tus he warmly greeted,And had him on a throne of honor seated.

“For Kaviani standard, golden shoes,And Pahlevani, none but you I choose.

Your farr and station fit this office true;No grievance in my heart remains for you.

You need not now apologize,” said he;“You did not wish a foreign Shah to be.”

Then blessed Khosrow turned toward Pars, and boreOnward to Kavus and the royal door.

When Kay Kavus received the news with cheer,That blessed Khosrow on the road drew near,

He went to meet him, cheeks like blossoms red,And youth through his old heart from gladness spread.

With joyful hearts they stepped down to the ground,And nisar, blessings, greetings went around.

Khosrow beheld Kay Kavus drawing near,He smiled; his heart bloomed bright with joy and cheer.

He left his steed and bowed with honor low,His grandfather longed to see his face glow.

Kay Kavus smiled and clasped him to his breast,And praised the prince with words that suited best:

“The lion has returned from battle bright,His foes left dim of heart and dim of sight.”

Then to the palace they took their way,To Kavus’s world-ruling throne that day.

They left their steeds, and blessings rang aloud;Khosrow kissed Kavus’s hand, and low he bowed.

Kavus then took the prince in his embrace,And led him to the monarch’s sitting-place.

He set him in the place that was his own,Then had the Kayan crown brought to the throne.

He kissed and crowned the prince with solemn care,Then left the ivory throne and took a chair.

He brought out emeralds, a nisar rare,And royal jewels scattered everywhere.

Again the name of Siavash he blessed,Whose living image Khosrow’s face expressed.

Then all the nobles gathered in the hall,The chiefs, sepahbods, high-born leaders all.

They hailed him Shah and scattered gems around,With pearls and royal jewels on the ground.

This world will take with one hand, give with one;Such is its way beneath the turning sun.

We climb the heights, then sink to depths below,And suffer through the world’s deceptive flow.

If joy can dwell within your heart, my son,May life endure until its course is run.

Take joy in wealth and give with open hand;Let grief not cloud the days at your command.

Take what you need, then give the rest away;Do not for foes make bitter your own day.

God gave you wealth, and to your child will give;Thus from the parent tree the branch shall live.

See how the earth is filled with wealth and grace,With every good bestowed in every place.

The Just One’s gifts can never know an end;Seek joy, and let no grief your spirit bend.