Book B11Kay Khosrow’s Kingship

This much achieved, the poet will exploreAnother tale drawn out of ancient lore:

How Khosrow took the throne and held command,And sent his armies toward Turan’s land.

If God grant life and strength to see it through,And keep my face still fresh, my spirit new,

One further tale I leave upon the earth,Drawn from this famed old book of lasting worth.

As in a garden where a cypress grows,Its green-tipped branch above the palace shows.

The parent tree rejoices in its height,The wise and fortunate behold the sight.

Fortune sustains his heart and serves his needs,The world gains profit from his worthy deeds.

Let us examine now these matters three;What more beyond these three remains to see?

High birth, brave deeds, and worth of one degree;In close relation all of them agree.

Achievement cannot rise where worth is none;Yet many high-born lack what toil has won.

Through Yazdan’s farr is native worth made clear,It reaches not for evil, nor gives ear.

Lineage springs from pure paternal seed;From stainless stock it rightly should proceed.

Achievement comes through labor, earned with strain,You learn from all and struggle through the pain.

Native worth gives substance to the three,By the Creator’s robe made fair to see.

When these three meet, then wisdom must arise,To know the good from evil through clear eyes.

When all four virtues join, the heart finds peace,From pain and toil and grief he finds release.

Though none escapes when death revokes life’s lease,No sharper bane; no cure can make it cease.

A Pahlevan from Iran bore such grace,While fortune from above secured his place.

When Khosrow rose as Shah of high renown,His fame spread through the world from town to town.

He took the Shahanshah throne in rightful place,And wore the royal crown with kingly grace.

He spread his justice, set the balance right,And tore oppression’s root from earth outright.

The crown-bearing Kayanian nobles came,The freeborn chiefs renowned in rank and fame.

Then nobles, kings, and lords of honored nameCame forth to bow and hail his rightful claim.

From every distant region, far and wide,No head remained that would not bend its pride.

He raised each ruined place from its decay,And freed sad hearts that were to sorrow prey.

The spring rains fell and washed the wounded plain,And washed grief’s rust from earth, erased its stain.

The land was clothed in splendor, fresh and fair,Through justice, bounty, wealth was everywhere.

The world was filled with happiness and peace,And Ahriman’s dark workings had to cease.

To every great one messengers were sent,To every famed Pahlevan they went.

When word reached Nimruz and its lord renowned,The earth’s own light whose fame spread far around:

“The blessed Kay now sits upon the throne,And treads the sphere of greatness as his own,”

Then Rostam summoned forces to his side,To pay the Shah their homage far and wide.

In state they journeyed, glad in heart and mind,With Zal, the son of Sahm, of noble kind.

And all the chiefs of Kabul crossed the plain,Till earth grew black as ebony in their train.

The koust resounded vast from part to part,Its thunder seemed to tear the hearer’s heart.

Zal led the way with warriors in array,And Rostam’s violet standard streamed that day.

Then news reached Khosrow: “Rostam comes in sight,The loyal hero comes with heart upright.”

The whole realm rose to greet him with good cheer,And made its welcome ready as he drew near.

The Shah rejoiced and blessed the herald then:“May you prosper and flourish among men.

For Rostam reared my father in his youth,His honar shines before the world in truth.”

He sent out Giv and Gudarz, Tus, to ride,As ney-e sarghin joined the koust’s tide.

The tabira sounded at the palace gate,And champions set their helmets firm and straight.

Pahlevan after Pahlevan rode to greet,With standards raised and tabira’s martial beat.

Two days they rode to greet the hero bold,With many chiefs and troops in ranks unrolled.

Then Rostam’s standard blazed before their sight,As dust rose to the sun and dimmed its light.

The buq cried out together with the koust,At center rode brave Giv, Gudarz, and Tus.

They rode before the elephant-bodied chief,And blessed him joyfully, their hearts’ relief.

The three embraced him, drawing Rostam near,And Rostam asked: “How fares the Shah held dear?”

From Rostam then they turned with eager paceTo Zal, and met him with delighted face.

Then Faramarz they greeted with delight,Then rode to see the Shah’s crown shining bright.

When Khosrow saw the hero drawing near,His eyes grew wet as memory stirred a tear.

He rose from off the throne and stepped below,And blessed the chief whom all the world would know.

The warrior kissed the earth with reverent care,Then Khosrow spoke, his blessing to declare:

“Live ever blessed, O chief of noble fame,Bright be your soul, enduring be your name.

Wise and restrained in word and heart are you,Who fostered Siavash, steadfast and true.”

He clasped Zal’s head against his royal breast,And grief for Siavash rose, no more suppressed.

Then Khosrow seated both and drew them near,And spoke Yazdan’s great name for all to hear.

When Rostam marked the Shah from head to toe,His bearing, speech, and judgment all aglow,

His heart filled up with blood; his color turned,As thoughts of Siavash within him burned.

He said: “O king, your father’s honored nameLives on through you, a world-enduring flame.

No crowned king have I seen in any place,With such a farr, your father’s very face.”

Then from the throne they rose; the feast was laid,And wine was poured; the banquet stood arrayed.

Till midnight Khosrow would not turn to sleep,But told the past, whose memories ran deep.

When Sol drew forth its scimitar of light,The darkness fled and vanished from the sight.

From palace rose the ney’s resounding call,The nobles turned toward the Shah’s great hall.

Then Tus and Gudarz came with Giv the bold,With Gorgin, Gostaham, Bahram, tried of old,

With Rohham, Bijan, Ashkash known to fame,Kavus’s Fariborz and Zangeh came.

The king rode out to hunt with chosen men,With Rostam foremost, chief of heroes then.

The army dimmed the sun and moon on high,With jowshan, swords, and helmets crowding sky.

The hunted game lay scattered on the road,As though a battlefield its carnage showed.

The king advanced through all Iran, awareOf thriving lands and ruins lying bare.

Where injustice had laid the cities low,He raised them up and made their fortunes grow.

He filled deserted towns with life restored,With dirhams freely drawn from royal hoard.

He never wearied of justice and largesse,And through his giving eased the realm’s distress.

In every town he paused and set his throne,And made his royal justice widely known.

With purses from his treasury in array,He scattered dinars as he made his way.

With wine and throne and crown he rode ahead,From city on to city swiftly sped.

With nobles, freeborn chiefs in all their strength,He reached Azar Abadagan at length.

At times he drank; at times he swiftly rode,And reached Azargashasp, the fire’s abode.

Within the fire temple Khosrow prayed,And to the World-Creator homage paid.

He left that place and rode toward Kavus’s throne,Before him then the elder Shah’s court shone.

With Kavus he sat down in joy and peace,And every care between them found release.

When wine had done its work within his breast,Then swiftly came the hour of sleep and rest.

When radiant Sol spread light across the plain,And ruby splendor marked the daylight’s reign,

Kavus sat with Kay Khosrow at his side,Two lofty kings, by fortune dignified.

With Zal and Rostam, champions true and tried,The four sat gathered, kingdom’s strength and pride.

The Shah spoke first of matters high and low,Then turned to Afrasiab, root of woe.

His cheeks were wet beneath grief’s ceaseless flood,The tears from both his eyes seemed mixed with blood.

He spoke of Siavash, condemned to death,And how that tyrant robbed the land of breath,

How Iran’s dust was cast upon the sky,And many chiefs had met their end thereby,

How women, children suffered loss and pain,And cities lay abandoned on the plain.

“You see,” he said, “these lands brought low and torn,These cities emptied, desolate, and worn.

Since every gift that Yazdan grants is yours;Strength, wisdom, stature, farr; your fortune soars.

And since in worth you stand above all kings,Swear now that justice guides you in all things:

Let vengeance fill your heart against that foe,And never let that fire cease to glow.

Regard no mother’s kinship on his side,Nor heed the counsel others may provide.

Be not enticed by treasure or by gain,Though fortune rise or fall, hold fast your rein.

Let crown nor throne nor royal signet stir,Nor Afrasiab’s words, your heart to err.

Now hear the bond that seals this oath you make,And binds your soul in vows you must not break:

Swear by the Maker of the moon and sun,By sword and seal, by throne and crown, each one;

By Yazdan’s farr, by fortune’s blessed sign,Toward evil never let your path incline;

Seek no mediator; let the weapons speak;Let sword and gorz decide the right we seek.

Though high your stature, lofty in men’s eyes,Keep humble your disposition as you rise.”

When Khosrow heard these words, both grave and clear,He faced the sacred flame in holy fear.

And swore: “By God, the ruler over all,By day’s bright face and lapis night’s dark pall,

By sun and moon, by throne and crown I swear,These royal signs attest the vow I bear;

By royal seal and sword, by diadem,My oath is bound and witnessed here through them.

No love for Afrasiab shall I embrace,Nor even in a dream behold his face.”

In Pahlavi they wrote the oath by hand,With musk-water in the royal record grand.

Then Zal and Rostam witnessed it that day,And all the chiefs bore witness in array.

The written oath, as zanhar, signed and sealed,Was placed with Rostam, who would be its shield.

When this was done, they called for wine and feast,And every kind of revelry increased.

A week they passed with rud and cups of wine,Within Kavus’s eyvan, rich and fine.

Upon the eighth day, Khosrow, to prepare,Washed head and body, then went forth to prayer.

Before Yazdan who turns the sphere on high,He laid his face to earth beneath the sky.

From blackest night until the sun arose,He wept without relief from grief and woes.

“O Judge of all, O God whose power I praise,World-Ruler, giver, guide through all my days,

When I was young, without an army’s aid,From dragon’s maw my helpless life you stayed.

Afrasiab knows no shame; cursed the ground,Where guiltless hearts by vengeance all are bound.

He struck my father down and spilled his blood,And left our hearts adrift in grief’s dark flood.

He cast his fire across these noble lands,And rained destruction down with ruthless hands.

The hearts of kings are filled with fear of him,His crown and throne bring ruin dark and grim.

His gohar is corrupt, his lineage base,A sorcerer whose evil stains his race.

Take now my hand in vengeance for my sire,And grant old Kavus mercy I desire.”

He pressed his cheek upon the earth in grief,And praised Yazdan who grants the soul relief.

Then slowly rising, he resumed the throne,And spoke before the chiefs who were his own:

“My famed champions, conquerors tried and true,My khanjar-bearing chiefs, I speak to you.

I rode through Iran’s lands from bound to bound,To Khan-e Azargashasp the road I found.

Though rich it was, though prosperous the place,I saw no joy upon a single face.

All suffer from Afrasiab’s cruel reign;Their hearts hold blood, their eyes shed tears of pain.

No heart is more than mine by sorrow torn;My soul and body bear the wounds I mourn.

My grandfather too found no calm relief,And from his heart drew cold winds born of grief.

Its men and women cry through war and raid,Through killing, plunder, every havoc made.

If you are loyal, steadfast, and sincere,Then stand with me, and make your purpose clear.

I will prepare to avenge my father’s wrong,And cleanse the land that has endured so long.

If you will strive as leopards in the field,Then I shall stand, and never shall I yield.

From heroes’ battle, mountains turn to plain,And blood shed in revenge becomes his stain.

If any fall, high Paradise shall wait,A dwelling raised beyond the mortal state.

Now speak your minds and tell me what you know,He first did wrong; requital must not slow.”

The chiefs arose, their hearts with anguish stirred,And answered him together, word for word:

“O Shah, be glad, and cast away all fear;May pain and grief forever disappear.

Our bodies and our souls belong to you,Our grief and joy, the little and great, too.

We all are born to die; that law is known,Though freeborn, we are servants of your throne.”

When Tus, Gudarz, and mighty Rostam spoke,His cheek like redbud bloomed; his joy awoke.

Young was his fortune; Khosrow too was young,He blessed the chiefs with praise upon his tongue.

May brave men fill the earth in every place;May champions make it flourish through their grace.

Thus matters stood until the circling skyBrought Sol in Virgo shining bright on high.

Then Khosrow summoned Mobadan of the land,And spoke to them with calm and firm command.

For two full weeks he closed the audience hall,Then ordered a new register for all.

He told the dastur, rozi-dehan: “WriteThe name of every rank in ordered rite.”

In solemn form they entered every name,As fitting for the chiefs renowned in fame.

First came the kin of Kavus, royal race,One hundred ten, all marked by birth and grace.

At their head stood Fariborz, brave and bold,Close to the new Shah, honored in his fold.

Then eighty scions sprang from Nohzar’s line,And bore bright gorz, each splendid in design.

Zarasp their sepahbod stood at their head,Appointed as their guardian when he led.

The son of Tus, the crown of Kayan fame,With sword and gopal, koust proclaimed his name.

He raised the Kaviani standard bright,And made the Kayan throne and fortune light.

Then Gudarz, son of Keshvad, came to stand,Whose counsel brought good order to the land.

His sons and grandsons, seventy-eight in train,Were mountain warriors, riders of the plain.

From Gazhdaham came sixty-three, who foundIn Gostaham a leader far renowned.

A hundred horsemen came from Milad’s race,Victorious Gorgin rode before their pace.

Tavaba’s house sent eighty-five to ride,Brave guardians of the royal wealth and pride.

And Borteh led them boldly in the field,Their strong support, their guard and battle-shield.

Then came the sons of Pashang, thirty-three,Bold riders famed for daring, sworn and free.

Rivniz, their chief, before the koust would ride,And stood as Tus’s son-in-law allied.

The kin of Barzin numbered seventy men,Fierce lions in the shock of battle then.

Farhad commanded them, an anvil of steel,Whose strength could make the fiercest foeman reel.

Guraza led his own assembled line,One hundred five, their armor made to shine.

With Kanarang stood countless nobles near,Great Pahlevans whose burz and farr shone clear.

So vast their number, none could tell them all,The Mobad could not count them in the hall.

Their names were entered on the royal roll,Till need should call each worthy fighting soul.

The Shah then ordered all to leave the town,And toward the hāmun lead the army down:

He said, “When this new month begins its round,Let karnay and the Indian daray sound.

Then all shall turn toward Turan to fight,And set aside all feasting and delight.”

The courtiers bowed before him in a ring,And bent their heads to earth and blessed the king:

“O Shah, your farr makes crown and girdle bright;We serve from Aries down to Pisces’ light.”

Wherever wild steeds wandered through the plain,Their keepers drove them toward the marching train.

The Shah commanded: “Call kamand-afgans near,Those proven warriors every foe must fear.

Cast kamands on these chargers fleet and strong,And bring them safely to the royal throng.”

He opened wide the treasury of gold,And thus addressed the warriors brave and bold:

“The treasures of great kings should not lie stored,Concealed from those who guard the realm by sword.

In days of war, when vengeance must be won,Brave men and royal treasure work as one.

Through valiant men are treasure, thrones attained,As fruit through sunlight from the tree is gained.

Why grieve for treasure through the passing day?For wealth exists for men to give away.”

A hundred robes of fine Roman brocade,With jewels upon golden fabric laid,

With khazz and woven cloth of costly art,And one gem-laden royal cup apart.

He set them forth, and to the court spoke straight:“For Palashan’s head these treasures wait.

Afrasiab praised his Pahlevan in might,And slept secure while Palashan watched by night.

What warrior in the field of blood and flameWill cast that dragon down in dust and shame,

And bring his head, his sword, his charger near,Before our camp when battle’s day is here?”

Then Bijan, son of Giv, sprang to his feet,And swore that savage enemy to meet.

He seized the robes, the goblet, and the prize,And blessed Khosrow, both glorious and wise:

“May this crowned head rule long in strength and fame,And may your joy endure while Time bears name.”

Then he returned and took his former seat,The jeweled goblet held, his prize complete.

Again the Shah called treasures from his store:Two hundred gold-embroidered robes and more,

A hundred robes of khazz were richly wrought,A hundred parniyan beside were brought.

Two rosy slaves, in cloth of gold, were gracedWith jeweled girdles fastened round each waist.

The monarch said: “These gifts belong to oneWho brings me Tazhav’s crown, the deed well done.

The crown Afrasiab placed upon his head,And called him noble son-in-law,” he said.

Again brave Bijan rose before them all,A champion no enemy could appall.

He seized the treasures and the slaves, his prize,Before the gathered nobles’ watching eyes.

“May earth beneath Khosrow forever bloom!”He cried, then sat again within the room.

The Shah then ordered further gifts be shown:Ten slave-boys brought before the royal throne,

Ten steeds of rapid pace with golden reins,Ten veiled young maidens decked in jeweled chains.

The ruler said: “These gifts belong to oneWho fears not Tazhav when the fight is begun.

He has an attendant with him in the fight,Whose voice can tame the leopard’s heart outright.

Her name is Espanoye, moon-faced and bright,A cypress formed in grace and pure delight.

Her waist a reed, her stride a pheasant’s glide,Her musk-sweet beauty fit for royal pride.

Her body jasmine-bright, her face was spring,And musk around her like a cloud would cling.

Whoever takes her must not use the blade,But bring her living safely from the raid.

His kamand must close gently round her waist,And bear her from the battlefield in haste.”

Then Bijan struck his breast before the throne,And claimed the task before him as his own.

He praised the Shah and blessed the Maker high,While all the court looked on with gladdened eye.

The king rejoiced and said: “Renowned in fight,May no foe gain a champion of your might.

May soul and body never part from you,O peerless champion, steadfast, brave, and true.”

Again the Shah commanded: “Do your part:Bring ten gold goblets set with jeweled art;

Ten silver cups with precious stones aglow,With fragrant shamameh in gold to show;

A yellow-ruby vessel, musk within,With turquoise, lapis ranged in splendor thin;

With emerald and carnelian agleam,And cups of rosewater, a fragrant stream;

Ten noble steeds with golden bridles fair,And ten young slaves with jeweled belts to wear.

These gifts are for the man whose arm in fightCan bring fierce Tazhav down beneath his might.

But only when his severed head is laidBefore my throne shall all this prize be paid.”

Then Giv, the son of Gudarz, struck his breast,And swore to meet that champion in the test.

Before the chief they set the treasure down;He blessed the Shah who wore the royal crown:

“May crown and signet never leave your hand,Nor fortune cease to guard your wide command.”

Again the Shah commanded ten trays of gold,With dinars, musk, and jewels from the hold.

Two hundred robes of khazz and diba bright,Were laid before the Shah in ordered sight.

Ten fair attendants, crowned and girdled, stood,Beside a jeweled crown of workmanship good.

“These gifts belong to one who does not tireFor name and treasure, though the toil be dire.

Let him ride forth now to the Kasa stream,And bless Siavash’s soul with words supreme.

A timber mound, past ten kamands, stands high,Its stacked wood rising toward the open sky.

Afrasiab raised it there to block the way,So none from Iran toward Turan could stray.

Some bold man must destroy it with a brand,So war finds no obstruction in the land.

When future battle and its clash draw near,Our army then shall find the passage clear.”

Again brave Giv declared: “That task I claim;I shall consume the timber mound in flame.

I fear no battle, though the foemen rise,But call the circling vultures from the skies.”

The Shah bestowed those treasures on him too,And praised the famed sepahbod, brave and true.

“May never crown be parted from your blade;Prosper in joy, and never be afraid.”

Then lastly Khosrow asked what man would rideTo Afrasiab and face him in his pride,

A hundred diba robes in bright array,Of many colors, Khosrow set that day;

A hundred lustrous pearls were heaped beside,Like frozen drops of water, clear and wide;

Five young attendants stood with crowns of gold,Their hidden curls beneath the circlets rolled.

The prize was for a man whose soul was wise,Where sovereign wisdom held its rule and rise;

A brave discerning man, of fluent tongue,Who faced the lion when the fight was sprung;

Who bore the Shah’s words to Afrasiab’s ear,And faced him there without a trace of fear;

And brought his answer back before the throne.Gorgin, Milad’s son, claimed it as his own.

The Shah bestowed the promised gifts and gold,The robes and pearls and servants from his hold.

He blessed the Shah: “May wisdom guard your soul,And dwell beside it while the heavens roll.”

When earth grew black as raven’s dusky plume,And night’s bright lamp rose over hill and gloom,

The Shah withdrew; night settled over all,Each chief went home beyond the palace wall.

When dawn made all the mountain ridges glow,And cockcrow rose where early breezes blow,

Great Rostam came before the royal throne,With Faramarz and Zavareh, well known.

They spoke of Iran, crown and royal state,And weighed each matter in their long debate.

Then Rostam said: “O Shah of lofty fame,Great ruler crowned in everlasting flame,

There lies a province in Zabul’s domain,Once held by Tur before Manuchehr’s reign.

Till Manuchehr drove Turan from its land,The noble province flourished in his hand.

When Kavus aged and royal farr grew dim,The light of kingship slowly left with him.

Turanians seized the city; Iran withdrew,And now to Turan goes its tribute due.

There elephants and treasure now abound,While guiltless people suffer, terror-bound.

Its peaceful folk endure the raider’s blade,Through pillage, slaughter, terror, all dismayed.

Now Iran’s kingship rests within your right,With elephant frame and lions’ claws of might.

Best send a champion, one who will dare,With mighty troops, to break the Turkish snare.

Let him compel that province to restoreIts tribute; or a head before your door.

When all that borderland is held secure,Then Turan’s coming overthrow is sure.”

The Shah replied: “Live long, for you speak true.Your counsel marks the road that we pursue.

Determine what great force the task demands,And choose the men yourself from these renowned bands.

That frontier lies beside the lands you guide;Its worth is fitting to your strength and pride.

Now give Faramarz warriors proved in war,A mighty force drawn from your finest corps.

Through Faramarz the venture shall succeed,His hook can reach the nahang’s jaws at need.”

Then Rostam blessed the Shah with joyful grace,His joy shone brightly on his lifted face.

Then Khosrow bade the salar-e-bar prepare,And call the cooks to spread the royal fare.

Wine came; the rameshgaran gathered near,Their nightingale-like songs entranced each ear.

When bright Sol rose above the mountain height,And minstrels ceased their songs at dawn’s first light,

The tabira rang out at palace gate,And there the troops were called to congregate.

Tabiras bound on elephants in rows,While karnays shook the air where morning rose.

Upon one elephant they raised a throne,And so the royal Tree in splendor shone.

The Shah came forth and took his seat on high,His jeweled crown resplendent to the eye.

A torque of gems lay shining on his breast,His ox-head gorz in kingly hand at rest.

From either ear rich pearl and jewel swung,While gold and gems upon his bracelets hung.

His belt was pearl and emerald, worked with gold,A sight for all assembled to behold.

His elephant, with bells and golden rein,Advanced into the center of the plain.

He struck the mohreh in the royal cup,To Saturn then the army’s roar rose up.

With sword and gorz and koust the earth grew black,As dust rose thick above the army’s track.

The sun seemed caught within a net on high,As though the vault of heaven bent from the sky.

No clearest eye could see a horseman’s rein,Nor stars discern the spearpoints on the plain.

It seemed the billows of the sea had grown,As troop by troop the moving line was shown.

They brought the camp-enclosure to the field,While shouts rose high and made the heavens yield.

Such was the custom of the royal day:He struck the mohreh, girded for array.

No man throughout the kingdom had a placeExcept before the gate of royal grace.

This was the token of the sovereign’s reign,The royal sign his kingship would maintain.

The Shah kept to his elephant’s high seat,And watched the ordered ranks march past his feet.

First Fariborz came marching, trim and neat,With gorz and crown and golden shoes complete.

Behind him rose his sun-emblazoned sign,As on his chestnut steed he held the line.

His coiled kamand was fastened at his side,With fast speed, with burz and farr, he would ride.

His men were clothed in silver, gems, and gold,In trappings rich and splendid to behold.

The Shah then blessed him: “May heroic graceAnd greatness ever hold your honored place.

May fortune crown the labors you devise,And New Year’s radiance in your spirit rise.

May health attend you when you ride away,And no infirmity return that day.”

Behind him came Gudarz of Keshvad’s line,Whose counsel made the world with order shine.

A lion gripping gorz and sword in fightWas blazoned on his banner, fierce and bright.

Upon his left marched Rohham, sword in sight,And noble Giv advanced upon his right.

Shidush behind him bore the lion sign,Whose violet brightness crossed the dusty line.

Behind them marched a thousand, lances high,Long spears advanced beneath the darkened sky.

Behind brave Giv his sable banner came,A wolf displayed upon its folds of flame.

Rohham’s high banner climbed into the cloud,Its tiger emblem fierce above the crowd.

Behind came Bijan’s banner, raised on high,A crowned maid figured on it toward the sky.

His sons and grandsons, seventy-eight in train,Left scarcely room across the spreading plain.

They filled the plain, each flag a different shade,In red and yellow, violet arrayed.

The world seemed subject to his stern command,The heads of chiefs lay humbled by his hand.

Gudarz called blessings on the crown and throne,Then passed before the Shah with all his own.

The Shah returned the blessing he had heard,And praised the clan with every gracious word.

Behind Gudarz came noble Gostaham,The vigilant son born of Gazhdaham.

His chosen weapon for the field was spear,While bow and poplar shafts hung ever near.

Whenever from his arm an arrow sped,It split both rock and anvil with its head.

He marched with mighty forces at his side,With gorz, scimitars, and stores supplied.

Above him waved a banner with a moon,Whose splendor climbed the clouded skies at noon.

He blessed the Shah, who gloried in his fame,Then prudent Ashkash came, his turn to claim.

A gorz-bearer from Qobad’s noble line,With ready mind and judgment clear and fine.

His troops from Baluchistan and Kuch came,Fierce rams in battle, fired by glory’s flame.

No man had seen their backs turned in the fight,Nor one bare finger showed beneath the light.

A pard with outstretched claws adorned their sign,Which flashed above the warriors’ marching line.

Ashkash saluted Kay Khosrow at length,And praised the fortune of his growing strength.

Meanwhile the Shah sat high above the plain,And watched the ordered ranks in martial train.

The marching columns stretched two mil in line,And filled the Shah with joy at their design.

He blessed his sleepless fortune and his throne,And praised the power that Heaven made his own.

Behind Ashkash rode Farhad, tried and true,Who cared for all the troops the journey through.

In every battle he was like a sire,Sustaining weary men through blood and fire.

A gazelle blazoned on his banner streamed,Above the marching troops where armor gleamed.

His soldiers bore bright Indian blades in hand,With Sughdian jowshans, Turkish saddles grand.

They all descended from Qobad’s great line,With justice, grace, and gifts of power divine.

The face of each shone brightly as the moon,Yet burned like sunlight in the clash at noon.

Farhad beheld the youthful king, and prayedThat heaven’s care might be the monarch’s aid.

Then Guraza, head of Givgan’s race,Came next, Shah-favored, tried in martial grace.

Upon his saddle lay a kamand coiled,Prepared for battle, polished bright and oiled.

He bore a banner blazoned with a boar,While warriors with kamands marched before.

All these warriors and heroes of the plain,Saluted Khosrow, then resumed their train.

Behind came Zangeh, Shavaran’s brave son,With chiefs and champions, forth his men had run.

His homa-banner streamed above the sand,While like a mountain moved his gathered band.

He blessed the Shah and praised his noble height,His sword and signet gleaming in the light.

All those from Baghdad marching in his forceBore steel and lances bright upon their course.

Beneath the homa-banner marched they all,While Khosrow sat upon the elephant tall.

Behind him came brave Faramarz, renowned,In noble stature, grace, and glory crowned.

With elephants and drumming koust, his train,All eager for the battle on the plain.

From Kashmir, Kabul, and Nimruz they came,Mighty men, long famous for their great name.

His banner blazed like Rostam’s own with fire,Seven dragon-heads that stirred the ranks to ire.

They reared upon the standard, fierce and vast,Like seven dragons from their fetters cast.

Like some fruit-bearing tree in spring he came,And blessed the Shah with many words of fame.

The king rejoiced to see the chief draw near,And gave him prudent counsel, grave and clear.

“The elephantine chief has fostered you;In every gathering may honor be your due.

You are the son of Rostam, famed in fight,From Dastan, Sahm, Nariman comes your right.

Now Hind as well lies subject to your reign,From Ghanooj to Sistan’s distant plain.

If no one makes you war within that land,Then darken no man’s life beneath your hand.

In every place protect the poor and weak,And give with open hand to all who seek.

Know well your friends, and learn which men are wise,And who will share your grief when sorrow lies.

Do every task today and see it through,Nor trust tomorrow to complete for you.

For crookedness brings only late regret,Walk straight, and keep the proper pathway set.

I have bestowed this kingdom in your trust;Preserve it now through judgment firm and just.

Make war not without cause or rightful need,Nor let your youth become the slave of greed.

Bring pain to none who has not harmed your name;Nor trust this turning world to stay the same.

One hour it glows like sandalwood in flame,The next turns dark as ebony with shame.

Your duty is to leave a noble trace,And never yield to sorrow or disgrace.

Our days will pass; the heavens count each breath,Keep heart in joy and body sound till death.

The World-Creator look upon your face,And smoke and grief your enemies embrace.”

When Faramarz had heard the Shah’s command,He left his swift horse there upon the sand.

He blessed the youthful Shah and spoke his praise:“Like the new moon, increase throughout your days.”

He kissed the earth and rendered homage due,Then turned to take the road that lay in view.

Matchless Rostam, sorrowing to part,Rode two farsangs beside him, heavy heart.

Of warfare, wisdom, feasting, he would speak,And teach his son the conduct wise men seek.

He wished him joy and fortune in his reign,Then sadly turned back toward the royal train.

The Shah descended from the elephant’s chair,And mounted on a charger swift and fair.

In royal state he rode back to the tent,Deep in reflection on the day’s event.

When Rostam had returned, they brought the wine,And Khosrow raised a mighty cup, brimmed fine.

He said: “Let mirth suffice to ease man’s pain;No wisdom tells us what shall yet remain.

Where now are Salm and Tur and Fereydoon?All dust beneath the ever-turning moon.

We strive and labor, gathering wealth in vain,And break the heart’s desires through all our strain.

For in the end the dust shall be our share,And none escape the doom that all must bear.

Then let us pass the darkening night with wine,With brimming goblets sparkling rich and fine.

Then Tus shall sound the ney for coming fight,As buq, koust, tabira wake the newborn light.

Then we shall see whom turning Heaven will bless,And favor in the coming battle’s stress.

Yet what avail our labor, toil, and strain,When from the first what must be shall remain?

Both good and evil pass; why should the wiseFill hearts with grief beneath the turning skies?

Still, by the aid of Him who fashioned all,I shall avenge my noble father’s fall.”