Book B13Mount Hamavan and the Kamus Campaign

In His name, Yazdan of moon and sun,Whose name through wisdom leads the heart to One,

Lord of existence, all that is true, straight,Who wants no crookedness, no flawed estate;

Yazdan of Saturn, Mars, the sun’s bright sphere;From Him glad tidings come, and hope, and fear.

I know not how to praise Him, though my mindIn thought would pour my soul, all else resigned.

He fashioned place and time by His command;The ant’s small footprint witnesses His hand.

From circling sun to dark earth at our feet,His signs in heaven and on earth all meet.

Bright fire and air and water all attestThat Yazdan lives, and by His truth are blessed.

Revere the Maker, needing no one’s care,No crown, no throne, no minister anywhere;

No treasurer, no less or more He needs;No fortune’s favor shapes His will or deeds.

Though He needs nothing, still His servants bow,Beneath His will and counsel even now.

Since He made wisdom and discerning mind,And set the stars in heaven’s frame aligned,

Know Him supreme, Creator over all,Whose will makes joy arise and sorrow fall.

From Him come night and day and circling skies,Food, sleep, wrath, love beneath His will arise.

Of Rostam’s deeds the world has heard the tale;His fame through every heart and age prevails.

In water like a nahang, fierce in fray;On land, war’s elephant that none could stay.

Wise, shrewd of heart, a man for battle made,In war and valor master of the blade.

A man of knowledge, wit, and weight was he,And wise in war as any man could be.

His war with great Kamus I now recite,From written record now I bring to light.

Now turn and hear the rustic minstrel’s lay,And mark what one world-tested has to say.

Fariborz and the breaker, Giv, now led, With aged Gudarz, ranks whose hearts knew dread.

Their cheeks were wet with tears, their hearts besetBy grief for all the ruin they had met.

When they had reached along the Charam way,Kalat rose high; below, Mayam’s waters lay.

They spoke of how they fought Forood that day;Their only gain was grief and dark dismay.

Fear of the Shah filled every heart with pain,For guilt was theirs, and blood-tears fell like rain.

They came before Khosrow with spirits down,Ashamed and guilty there before the crown.

They had destroyed his guiltless brother’s life,And yielded crown and signet in the strife.

With folded arms and hearts consumed by pain,Like servants they stood silent in his train.

Khosrow beheld them with an angry gaze,His heart in pain, his eyes in tearful haze.

He spoke: “O righteous Judge, by whose decreeCame throne and fortune, honar, all to me,

Now I stand shamed before Your searching view;The why and how are better known to You.

Else I would order in the open plainA thousand stakes to rise for all this stain.

Then Tus and all who carried arms with himWould hang impaled, their names forever dim.

I mourned my father’s death in bitter grief;My heart was filled with sorrow past relief.

Forood too calls for vengeance to be done:The head must fall of Nohzar’s warrior son.

I said: ‘Avoid Kalat; from Charam stay,Though silver coins be showered along your way.’

Forood dwelt peaceful with his mother still, My brother, framed with Kayan blood and skill.

He is a warrior of the Kayan race;How could he know why Tus approached that place?

From mountain height he would attack his foe,And many chiefs would fall beneath his blow.

Why did hard-hearted Tus, in reckless haste,March toward that hold and lay my counsel waste?

The Master of the sky withdrew His graceFrom Tus and all the army in that place.

The house of Gudarz suffered for his pride;Curse Tus, his koust, his elephants beside.

I gave him khilat, counsel from my hand,And sent him forth; he struck his kindred band.

Alas, Forood, of Siavash’s own seed, A hero proven in both word and deed,

Like his great father, innocent, was slainBy my own chief and army on the plain.

I know none worse than Tus; he now is fitFor chains, the dungeon, and the blackest pit.

No brain within his head, no vein in frame;To me base Tus and dog are much the same.”

He writhed to seek revenge for both the dead:His murdered father and Forood, who bled.

He sent the troops away in deep disgrace,While blood-tears streamed in torrents down his face.

He shut the audience chamber’s guarded door,His wounded soul grieved young Forood the more.

The warriors, sad, sorry, then withdrew,And toward the court of mighty Rostam drew.

They said: “By God’s decree this thing was done;Who wished to fight Forood, the noble son?

Yet when brave Zarasp, Tus’s son, was killed,The chiefs with grief and dark regret were filled.

And when his son-in-law, brave Rivniz, died,Disaster darkened all the Iranian side.

Who knew Forood by lineage or name,Or wished against the Shah to kindle flame?

Plead with the Shah; still young, he may refrainFrom vengeance on the troops and end this pain.

Was not brave Forood, prince of royal breed, A noble shoot of King Kavus’s seed?

A younger prince of Kay, well-bred for war, A moon-faced youth whom we shall see no more.

Thus battle ends, whatever men may crave:To one a crown, to one a narrow grave.”

When sunlight gilded earth’s awakened face,And snared dark night within its shadowed place,

Loud shouts arose before the palace gate;Then peerless Rostam came to plead their fate.

He said: “Great Shah, may throne and crown and ringRejoice in you, the world’s appointed king.

Though Tus and all the army earned your blame,Forgive their wrong for Rostam’s sake and name.

When Tus saw son and son-in-law lie slain,All prudence left him, overcome by pain.

By nature rash, his wisdom soon can stray;A son’s dear life is no small thing to weigh.

When brave Rivniz was slaughtered in his sight,And proud Zarasp lay ruined in the fight,

No wonder if his heart blazed fierce with flame;The Shah should hold him guiltless of the same.

The ranks bore anger toward your brother too,For he had never come before your view.

Know this: the date when every man must dieIs fixed beneath the turning of the sky.

The spirit passes when its term is spent,Or else from flesh by violence is rent.

Three hundred spells cannot delay that breath,Nor hold one soul back from the road of death.”

Kay Khosrow answered: “Pahlevan, my griefFor that young prince has found no true relief.

Your counsel now is medicine to my soul,Though pain still writhes within and takes its toll.”

Then Rostam kissed the ground before the king,And honored him as lord of everything.

Next morning sunlight shot its shafts on high,And climbed the curve of its appointed sky.

It tore apart the turquoise robe of night,And showed its ruddy face in morning light.

Then Tus and Giv and other warriors cameBefore the Shah with blessings on his name.

Tus said: “May fortune bless you year by year,As long as time and turning heaven appear.

May earth serve crown and throne in your domain;May heaven grant farr and fortune to your reign.

My heart knows grief; my wounded liver bleeds;My mind knows shame; my tongue for pardon pleads.

Forood and Zarasp haunt my soul with blame;Like Azargashasp I burn in inward flame.

If I bear greater guilt than other men,My soul is wrung by that same guilt again.

Beside Bahram and noble Rivniz weighed,My life is worth no mite that could be paid.

If now the Shah will pardon me this blame,And pardon this renowned army’s shame,

I will go forth to wipe this shame away,And lift our fallen heads to honor’s day.

I shall bear every hardship with the men,Whether I take a life or give mine then.

From now on I renounce both crown and throne;My Roman helm shall be the crown I own.”

The monarch graciously received his plea;His heart grew fresh as blossoms on the tree.

He told the chiefs and Rostam all his view;Then Rostam and the gathered men withdrew.

When sunlight rose and night began to go,And dawn broke brightly from night’s curving bow,

Then Tus approached with Iran’s chiefs beside;Before Khosrow they stood in ordered pride.

They stood before Khosrow, who said: “This feudHas fed on blood and never been subdued.

Begun by Salm and Tur in ancient years,It grew through Manuchehr’s avenging spears.

Yet never was a Shah so shamed as I,Nor earth so drenched where Iran’s warriors lie.

The hills are girded with Gudarzian gore,A bloody zunnar binds the mountain’s core.

For them the bird and fish lament and weep,On mountain heights and in the ocean deep.

Across Turan lie heads and hands of slain;Feet, backs, and waists are scattered on the plain.

Is all your thought for pleasure and delight?Does vengeance never stir your hearts to fight?”

The gallant warriors folded arms and cameBefore that sunlike Shah of royal flame.

Together all the warriors kissed the ground:Rohham and Gorgin, Tus, Gudarz renowned,

Kharrad and Zangeh, Shavaran’s bold son,With Bijan, Giv, and chiefs famed one by one.

They said: “Star-favored Shah, whose sword in fightTears lions’ hearts and puts their strength to flight,

We all are servants, bound beneath your name,And bow our heads before you now in shame.

If now the Shah commands us to the field,Our heads and lives are his, and none shall yield.

No fault from us shall ever reach your sight,If sun and moon keep fortune’s face alight.”

Khosrow then summoned Giv and set him high,Upon a seat where honors touched the sky.

He praised him much, and khilats he bestowed;He spoke, and favor in his features glowed:

“You seek out hardship for my royal need,Yet take no share of treasure for your deed.

Though Tus commands, his army shall not goWith elephants and koust if you say no.

Do not let rashness make a small thing dire;May Bahram’s spirit shine with blessed fire.

Through evil counsel and the fear of shame,He made the world grow dark in honor’s name.”

Khosrow gave silver, called the paymasters near,And spoke with Tus, his counsel firm and clear.

“Though brief our stay beneath the turning sky,Let fame remain when we are called to die.”

He searched the stars to choose a favored dayFor Tus and all the troops to take the way.

Then Tus came forth, sepahbod of the fight,With elephants and koust arrayed in might.

He gave to Tus Kaviani standard bright,In Kayan custom, girded now to smite.

He blessed the chief; a mighty shout arose,And earth boiled under hooves in thunderous throes.

A cloud of dust rose dark beneath their tread;The gavdam karnay roared above each head.

With jowshan and the Kaviani standard bright,The whole world’s face turned violet in their sight.

The sun seemed drowned in water to the eye,While heaven and stars slept deep across the sky.

The Shah stayed on the plain till Tus passed through;His elephant bore to Shahd the mahd of blue.

A wind-swift hiyun sped without delay,And brought Piran this challenge straightaway:

“At Shahd, prepared for war, I hold my ground,My neck raised high, for battle I am bound.”

Piran was grieved to hear the challenge made;Against his will, his loads on elephants were laid.

He rode with chosen chiefs, a valiant band,With picked brave horsemen gathered at his hand.

He sought to learn the Iranian array,And which great chiefs with Tus had joined the fray.

He drew his troops beside the river’s strand,And sent kind greetings to Iran’s command.

Across the stream stood Tus with Iran’s might,With koust and elephants, the standard bright.

A smooth-tongued Turanian he chose,And sent him where the Iranian standard rose.

He said: “I showed all kindness from the startTo Farangis and Khosrow from my heart.

For Siavash I wept in bitter grief,And boiled on fire that granted no relief.

But now the nush-daru has turned to bane;From all my good has come but grief and pain.”

Tus heard Piran’s words, and felt sorrow’s chain,His heart grew sorrowful beneath the strain.

Then Tus replied: “Ride to Piran, and bear,O bright-souled chief, these words of mine declare:

‘If what you tell me now is truly said,No feud between us need raise up its head.

Free now your head; withdraw from this array,Shut fear’s dark door and loss’s fatal way.

Go to Iran’s Shah without an armed band;He will repay the goodness of your hand.

He will grant you Pahlevan’s rank, a crown,And lift your honored head to high renown.

When he recalls the good that you have shown,Your pain will grieve his heart as if his own.

Gudarz and Giv, and chiefs of prudent heart,All stand agreed and choose the wiser part.’”

The envoy rode like wind across the field,And brought Piran the answer Tus revealed.

He told what Tus and clear-souled Gudarz said,And faithfully their counsels there he spread.

Piran replied: “For all my days, my tongueWill praise chief Tus where noble deeds are sung.

I shall come over with my wisest kin,All those whose hearts my counsel yet may win.

I will cross to Iran with my wealth and gear;An honored head makes crown and throne less dear.”

He did not mean to act on what was said,But sought a better hour and chance instead.

By night Piran sent forth a swift hiyun,To Afrasiab, bearing word there soon.

He said: “Iran’s troops have now reached the field,With shawms and koust, their battle ranks revealed.

With Giv and Gudarz, Tus leads their line;I answered them with guile and dark design.

Choose now a proven force, or war will stainOur name with shame across the battle-plain.

Perhaps we uproot all their realm and land,And tear their rooted power from where they stand;

Their royal throne and treasure we shall burn,And all their gathered riches overturn.

For Siavash they come with vengeance pressed;Their Shah and army will not turn to rest.”

Afrasiab called all his captains then,And told the news before those fighting men.

He cried: “Prepare for war.” A force he raised,So vast the sun’s own eye was dimmed and dazed.

The earth lay hidden under their array;By the tenth dawn they reached Piran that day.

When troops had rested, Piran fed each band,Then loaded baggage and resumed command.

He broke his oath and cast its memory by,Then rushed to Shahd where river waters lie.

A scout rode swiftly up to Tus and cried:“Bind koust on elephants; the pact has died.

Piran, who sees his downfall drawing near,Has dealt in guile; his falsehood now is clear.

We see the wrongdoer’s standard by the stream,His army ranked along the water’s seam.”

Then Tus arrayed his army on the plain,With elephants and koust in martial train.

The lines, like mountains, crashed in wrathful fight,Iranian horse against Turanian might.

The dust of armies rose and dimmed the sun;From river water flames appeared to run.

Sword, zhupin, javelin filled the air with gloom,As though in night red tulips burst in bloom.

Gold helms and shields flashed bright across the fray;Gold belts on jowshan gleamed beneath the day.

A sandarac-hued cloud obscured the sky;Dust turned the earth to ebony nearby.

Chiefs’ helms beneath the heavy gopal rang,Like anvils struck by smiths as hammers sang.

The river like a winepress ran blood-red;A reed-bed of tall spears above it spread.

Full many heads were caught in kamand snare,And honored bodies humbled everywhere.

Jowshans their shroud, blood-dust their resting bed;The sword split pampered bodies where they bled.

Earth bloomed like arghavan, air black as night,While koust filled heaven and stars with roaring might.

Whether the world-seeker wins a crown,Or turns to dust when battle strikes him down,

Unwilling, each must leave what he may gain,Whether his lot be nush-daru or bane.

I know not what the final end may be;This going only calls for tears from me.

Among Turan was Arzhang, famed in fight,Whose battle-name had climbed the clouds’ full height.

He raised the dust across the open plain,And challenged Iran’s champions in disdain.

Tus saw him from afar and roared out clear,Then drew his sword and swiftly hastened near.

He asked the son of Zereh: “Speak your name.What warrior of Turan can match your fame?”

He said: “Arzhang am I, renowned in fight,A steadfast lion, patient in his might.

Now earth beneath your feet shall quake today,And I shall cast your head upon the fray.”

The son of Zereh spoke; Tus heard him through,Iran’s sepahbod knew what he would do.

No need for speech; no further words were made;His answer was the tempered, shining blade.

He struck his helm and head with such a force,It seemed no head had crowned him on his horse.

Then horn and koust from Iran’s army rang:“May Tus be victorious!” rose the clang.

Piran and all Turan were plunged in woe;The field stood emptied of Turanian foe.

Then all Turan’s great chieftains drew the sword,And raised their heavy gorz with one accord.

Those lions shouted: “All as one, take part,And make the world grow narrow to Tus’s heart!”

Then Houman said: “Today we must prepare.Do not lose heart or sink into despair.

If one of Iran’s champions comes to fight,And seeks a single combat in our sight,

Send one brave man to meet him in the field,And see what fate time’s turning wheel will yield.

But let us not provoke them; let them stay,And grant them one day’s respite for today.

When tabira from the pavilion rings,And battle through the waiting army springs,

Then all at once we raise our heavy gorz,And sweep from riverbank with gathered force.

We shall attack as one in fierce array,If Yazdan and good fortune clear our way.”

Then Houman mounted on his eagle-steed,And spurred toward the field where warriors bleed.

He seemed an iron wall before their eyes,Or Mount Alborz in jowshan scraping skies.

He came before the men prepared to fight,And grasped a spear that glittered in the light.

Tus too advanced; the earth rang far and wide,While brazen karnays thundered at his side.

He cried: “From luckless Viseh’s root has grownA bitter tree whose wretched fruit is known.

Have you come mounted, spear in hand, for strife,To seek revenge and hazard here your life?

By Khosrow’s life, I will then face your might,No jowshan, gorz, or Roman helm in sight.

Like mountain leopard springing on its prey,I would seize you and drag you down today.

If you have courage, you shall learn outrightHow heroes meet their enemies in fight.”

Houman replied: “Do not grow proud in speech;Such arrogance should stand beyond your reach.

Though fate has struck one luckless chief through you,Do not despise all Turan’s warriors too.

Arzhang would count himself no warrior then,If measured beside me among brave men.

Have Iran’s warriors no shame at all,That their sepahbod answers battle’s call?

Does no hot blood in any bosom boil,That you must take the challenge and the toil?

Have all their fighting hands grown weak and slow?Where are Bijan and Giv before the foe?

Where is Gudarz, son of Keshvad renowned,That world-seizer whose name has shaken ground?

If you are a chief, why now leave the line,And seek the duel where lone weapons shine?

The wise will call you stranger from this day;The sane will call you mad and turn away.

Go, hold the Kaviani standard’s place;Sepahbods should not meet men face to face.

Seek one whom royal khilat marks with fame,A tested chief who seeks a warrior’s name.

Choose one who seeks the signet and the crown,And send him forth to strike a warrior down.

Let him bring down a warrior like me,And prove Iran’s strength for all eyes to see.

It would go ill with all this band of yoursIf you were slain amid these battle-roars.

Your troops would be forsaken, overrun,Their hearts cast down beneath the darkened sun.

If they survived, they would be broken still,With shame and fear beneath the foeman’s will.

Apart from Rostam, mighty Zal’s own heir,And Sahm, whose mounted fame all men declare,

I see no noble like you in the land,Whose royal fathers held a king’s command.

What need of armies if you fight alone?Go back and send some chief who is well known.

And if you heed the counsel I declare,Which heart and soul and tongue together share,

The bravest learn when they encounter meWhat pain in battle and hard steel can be.”

Then Tus replied: “Exalted chief of might,I lead the line, yet still I seek the fight.

You lead the foremost warriors of your side;Why come to face me where the champions ride?

If your heart takes the counsel that I give,Seek league with me, and let your honor live.

Come with Piran, your captain, from the fieldBefore the Shah, where honor shall be sealed.

While one man lives among our fighting band,Revenge will burn while one of us can stand.

Do not cast life and honor both away;Let wise advice restore your heart today.

Leave those who must be slain to fight our line;No guilty man escapes the Shah’s design.

So take the wise man’s path and understand:The Shah has given this order to my hand:

‘Do not harm Piran; keep his honor clear,My foster-father, specially held dear.

World-tested, noble, wise, my trusted friend;Against him unjust battle do not send.

See that he heeds the counsel you have made;Let no unjust desire unsheathe the blade.’”

Houman replied: “Through right or wrong or death,When kings command, we go with loyal breath.

We have no remedy, no path but this;We serve the king in hardship or in bliss.

Piran himself did not desire this fight;His soul is generous, his counsel right.”

While Tus still parleyed, Giv’s face burned with shame,Like sandarac touched by a rising flame.

He left the band and spurred across the plain,While wrath surged through his heart and every vein.

“O Tus,” he cried, “of noble race and name,Why let this false Turanian bring you blame?

Between the lines he foams and talks too long;Seek no accord where every word is wrong.

Speak only with your sharp and tempered blade,And let your sword reply where words have strayed.”

When Houman heard, his heart was set afire;He turned on Giv and spoke in bitter ire:

“O luckless man, may Gudarz perish too;At Ladan’s field you saw what I could do.

You saw my Indian sword there in the fray,Where Keshvad’s fighting seed opposed my way.

Of Keshvad’s seed no warrior could evadeThe written charter of my tempered blade.

Your fortune wears dark Ahriman’s own face,And casts its shadow over all your race.

Mourning forever dwells within your door;Your house has drunk deep from grief’s endless store.

If Tus should slay me, gopal still will sound,And koust will thunder over all the ground.

Piran still lives, and great Afrasiab too;Both will avenge me if I fall to you.

But if Tus falls beneath my hand today,None of his troops will find Iran’s way.

Go mourn your brother and his bitter pangs;Why rail at Tus while grief around you hangs?”

Tus said: “What wrath is this? I am your foe.Come, wheel about; let battle’s anger grow.

Let us begin the fight without delay,And bend our brows in combat here today.”

Then Houman said: “All heads below a crownOr helm must one day fall and be cast down.

Since death must come, the battlefield is best;By one with honar, a chief may find his rest.”

Each grasped his massive gorz and charged to fight;Earth reeled beneath them, day dissolved in night.

A dust-cloud gathered over all the field,And battle’s face was hidden by its shield.

Dark night appeared to fall upon the day;The world’s bright sun was hidden far away.

Their mighty gorz all curved like Chakhian bows;Their rings of steel rang thunder from the blows.

The clash of steel rose upward to the cloud;Its battle-wind reached Shahd, immense and loud.

Beneath each iron helm seemed stone, not head;Their blows made Death’s own face turn black with dread.

They took their Indian scimitars in hand,And sparks streamed out from steel and stone and sand.

Beneath the strength of those two chiefs in fight,The keen blades bent, then shattered in the light.

Dust-stained and thirsty, each kept an iron hold,Gripped the other’s belt with fingers firm and bold.

They drove their weight through stirrups in the strain,Yet neither warrior fell upon the plain.

At last the belt of Houman snapped in two;He leapt upon a charger strong and new.

Tus took his bow and quiver from his waist,And on the string a poplar arrow placed.

He showered arrows at his noble foe,And wheeled as horsemen wheel against a blow.

Steel points and eagle-feathers filled the sky,Until the sun was hidden from the eye.

Though noon, the world seemed wrapped in deepest night;Its face was strewn with diamonds flashing bright.

One poplar arrow struck Houman’s own steed;It fell beneath him, pierced by that swift reed.

He raised his shield to guard his face and head,And stood afoot while battle round him spread.

The Turanian chiefs beheld him on the plain,And brought a noble charger by the rein.

Houman remounted on the noble steed,With Indian sword in hand for battle’s need.

He meant to turn and ride at Tus in wrath,As ebony night fell across his path.

The famous chiefs and warriors gathered round,Those battle-seeking men of high renown.

But darkness fell and brought the war to close;Their hands withdrew from battle and its blows.

He thought: “May evil eyes be driven away;May this fierce battle end in feast today.”

Houman turned rein while Tus still held his spear,Its point aimed straight at him as night drew near.

He reached Piran from that contested ground;A mighty Turanian shout rose all around.

The Turanians cried: “How did the battle goWhen you faced Tus, and met him blow for blow?

Our hearts were filled with blood in fear for you;Yazdan alone knows what we suffered through.”

Houman replied: “O chiefs of proven might,O battle-tested lions of the fight,

When this dark night gives way before the sun,The world-bright standard shall by us be won.

Then joy shall be the portion all may claim,And mine the honor of enduring fame.”

Tus shouted through the darkness till cockcrow:“Is Houman fit to stand against my blow?

A raging lion should confront me here;No lesser foe deserves to draw me near.”

When heaven wore its crown of jet-black night,It scattered shamameh on lapis light.

The pickets hurried out on every side,And set the watch where night and danger hide.

But when the sun rose out of Cancer’s height,The world, like some fair Roman face, turned white.

From both the camps the tabira resounded;The karnay’s cry through all the world rebounded.

The air grew thick with flags of varied light,Red, yellow, black, and violet in sight.

Each warrior drew his sword, his gorz, his spear,And gathered up his reins as war drew near.

Then heaven, time, and earth, before their view,Seemed wrapped in iron as the battle grew.

The shining sun was lost in clouds of dust,Raised by the horsemen’s charge, as battle thrust.

With neighing steeds and koust that shook the sky,High heaven bent and kissed the earth nearby.

Houman rode forth before the ranks arrayed,A flashing dart in hand, his wrath displayed.

He cried: “When I give forth the signal, go;Drive on your chargers; let your fury show.

Draw each your falchion when I give command,And lift your shields of Chin with steady hand.

See only mane and rein before your eyes;Let neither bow nor pointed spear arise.

Use sword and club and heavy gorz in fight,As warriors’ custom teaches men of might.

Cast reins upon your horses’ necks and close;Give blows and take them as the battle goes.”

This said, the gallant horseman, lion-strong,Went straight to wise Piran before the throng.

He cried: “O Pahlevan, unbind the gear;Let every warrior’s weapon now appear.

Keep no dinars locked within your store;Withhold no weapons from the coming war.

If we prevail today, your heart shall knowThe fruit that favoring stars on you bestow.”

Tus on his side set out his ranks to vieIn brightness with a rooster’s vivid eye.

The warriors blessed him, hailed his honored worth,And called him Pahlevan of all the earth.

They praised the valor Tus had shown that day,When dust rose high from Houman in the fray.

Then Tus addressed Gudarz, Keshvad’s great son:“Let all know well before this day is done:

If we march forth and hostile horse prevail,Then all our strength and worldly courage fail.

Put all your trust in Yazdan for this day,And cast all pride and selfhood far away.

Perhaps the Maker lends our swords His aid;If not, our star is dark and hope will fade.

Let chiefs with golden boots remain todayBeside the Kaviani standard in array.

Let no man leave the mountain’s guarded side;This is no hour to meet their rushing tide.

The enemy outnumbers us, in truth,Two hundred times our force of age and youth.”

Gudarz replied: “If God averts our ill,Then great or small, each force obeys His will.

Do not dishearten Iran’s fighting band;The few and many rest in Yazdan’s hand.

If heaven grants us some ill-fortuned day,No cautious pause can turn its course away.

Array the ranks; torment no heart with fear;What must arrive will find us waiting here.”

So Tus, the chieftain, drew the battle-line,With koust and elephants in stern design.

The footmen with the baggage climbed the height;Gudarz took post upon the army’s right.

Rohham and Gorgin held the army’s left;The ranks stood firm, by no disorder cleft.

The koust and karnay made the whole sky quake;High heaven seemed to shift and reel and shake.

The heart of turning heaven seemed torn in two;Dust filled the sun’s own mouth and hid its hue.

No eye could see the face of all the plain;The warriors vanished in the dust-cloud’s train.

Dark clouds rained sparks like diamonds through the air;Fire flashed from helm and sword in battle-glare.

The spearheads gleamed; drawn swords like lightning shone;Above rose standards and whirling gorz thrown.

The air was gorz and iron in the fight;The earth was horseshoes, jowshan packed in sight.

The plains and valleys ran with warrior blood;The swords were lamps across a midnight flood.

None knew the head from foot amid the sound,As koust and karnay shook the battleground.

Tus said to old Gudarz: “Now night draws near;The astrologer once made this warning clear:

‘Until the third watch of this night is past,The warriors’ swords will keep on raining fast.

Like blackened clouds their swords will rain down blood,And drench the battlefield beneath the flood.

I fear when all this bloody work is done,Turan’s avenging ranks may prove they won.’”

Shidush, Rohham, Giv, Gostaham drew near,With Kharrad, brave Farhad, and Barzin dear.

Between the armies they advanced as one,Their livers wounded, vengeance made them run.

Like troops of Divs upon a murky night,They came as battle-din assailed the height.

Houman led forth his mountain-heavy force,Troop after troop advanced along its course.

With gorz and mallet, sword and spear displayed,No eye could tell where rein or stirrup swayed.

Then man with man was chosen for the field,Each named to test what sword and gorz might yield.

Guraza, chief of Givgan’s valiant band,Met Nahl, two lion-hearts with sword in hand.

Rohham, Gudarz’s son, strode forth to fightWith Farshidvard; Shidush faced Lahhak’s might.

Then Bijan, son of Giv, met Kulbad’s ire;They rushed through darkened air like wind and fire.

Renowned Giv faced Shatrakh in the fray;Two noble chiefs prepared to test the day.

Gudarz met Piran; Houman faced Tus too;No pause or doubt restrained what they would do.

Tus said: “Today must not conclude the sameAs yesterday’s hard clash of steel and flame.

We must sweep every foeman from the land,So none survives to raise avenging hand.”

Then Tus advanced with footmen to the plain,With elephants and koust behind his train.

Before the horse stood shielded ranks in line,With zhupin-men and spears in strict design.

“Hold fast your posts; do not give up your ground;Bring shield and spear before you all around.

Now let us see,” he said, “what strength they wield,And how all their massive gorz rule the field.”

Among Turan stood Bazoor, known by name,A master versed in sorcery’s dark game.

He knew the tongues of Chin and Pahlavi well,And crooked arts and every magic spell.

Piran said to that warlock: “Climb the height,And send down snow and cold against the fight.

Let wind and bitter storm assail the foe,And bind the Iranian warriors’ hands with snow.”

The sorcerer sped upward to the crest;At once came driving snow at his behest.

The spearmen of Iran grew numb with cold,Their fingers failed the shafts they tried to hold.

Amid the tumult and zamehrir’s blast,The warriors roared as arrows showered fast.

Piran cried out: “Now charge them through the snow;Their frozen hands cannot withstand the blow.

Their spears lie useless in their stiffened hands;No warrior stands firm against our bands.”

Houman charged forward like a Div with battle-cry,As snow and iron darkened earth and sky.

They slaughtered till between the hostile linesA sea of blood spread under battle-signs.

The vales and slopes were stained with red and white;Iran’s brave horsemen perished in the fight.

The frozen corpses choked the snow-clad ground;The fallen left no passage all around.

No room remained to wheel across that mound;The cold left every warrior’s hands ice-bound.

Then Tus and all the chiefs cried in despair,And raised their grieving voices through the air:

“O Higher than all knowledge, sense, and thought,Whose presence cannot be confined or caught,

We are Your guilty servants in distress;We call to You from fear and helplessness.

You stand above all sorcery and spell,Judge over judges, ruling all things well.

You are the helper of the helpless still,More powerful than fire and zamehrir’s chill.

Deliver us from this excessive cold;You are our only hope, our only hold.”

A sage approached Rohham and showed the heightWhere magic’s source lay hidden from the fight.

He showed where bold Bazoor had made his stand,With spell and talisman at his command.

Rohham wheeled round and left the battleground,Then climbed through drifts that covered all around.

He girded up his jowshan to his waist,On foot he climbed; up to the peak he raced.

The warlock saw him; black with rage he grew,And seized a gorz of Chin, and at him flew.

Rohham approached and drew his trenchant steel,And closed upon the warlock with fearless zeal.

He struck and severed Bazoor’s magic hand;At once the spell began to leave the land.

A wind like Resurrection swept the height,And drove the black cloud out before the light.

Rohham came down, and bore the hand he won,Then mounted when the steep descent was done.

The azure sky resumed its former hue;The shining sun returned to open view.

Then Rohham told his father what was wrought,And what Bazoor’s dark sorcery had brought.

The Shah’s troops saw the field, a sea of blood,Across the plain its crimson currents flood.

Headless Iranian bodies filled the ground,And bodiless heads lay scattered all around.

Then old Gudarz said: “Tus, no elephants remain;No koust is heard across our shattered train.

Let all draw swords and charge across the plain;We slay, or else lie numbered with the slain.

Our destined term draws near its final span;No bow or shaft or kamand helps a man.”

Tus said: “Experienced veteran, hear me well;The sky is clear; the cold wind’s power fell.

Why place our heads beneath the foeman’s blade,When our great Helper grants us farr and aid?

Do not yourself lead first into the fight;These warriors can fulfill our purpose right.

Do not go out to court your fate through pride,Nor charge too fiercely where their troops abide.

Hold the Kaviani standard at the heart,With blue-steel sword in hand; do not depart.

Let Giv and valiant Bijan hold the right;Let Gostaham command the left in fight.

Rohham and Shidush guard the foremost line;Guraza foams for vengeance by design.

If I am slain, lead Iran’s ranks away;Return them to Khosrow without delay.

For death is better than a life of blame,And nobler than the foeman’s jeering shame.”

Such is the world, all anguish, grief, and woe;Seek no excess while you remain below.

For added greed will bite you in the end,And never make your mortal span extend.

Again karnay and zang resounded round,With Indian daray in brazen sound.

With din of charging horsemen in the field,With flashing sword and battle-ax revealed,

With pikan, gopal, zhupin, arrows cast,The earth grew black as pitch beneath the blast.

The plain was filled with severed heads and arms;The crash of gopal thundered fierce alarms.

The face of fortune vanished from their sight;The fierce Turanian onset broke their might.

Their harsh star darkened; Iran’s ranks gave way,And turned their backs before the foe that day.

Then Tus, Gudarz, brave Giv and Bijan came,With Shidush, Rohham, chiefs of martial fame.

They took their lives in hand to win acclaimBefore the blades of war and iron flame.

The namdars and kanarangs at the forePoured out their blood amid the battle’s roar.

But those behind them fled in fear and shame;A Mobad reached Tus and called his name:

“No warrior now remains behind your line;The foe may close around you by design.

They may destroy both captain and his band,If they encircle you on every hand.”

Tus said to Giv: “Our army’s sense has fled;Its wit and wisdom from its ranks are dead.

They have abandoned us and taken flight;Go after them and turn them back to fight.

Guard us from foemen’s jeers and royal shame;Let not this rout dishonor Khosrow’s name.”

Giv went, and turned the fleeing troops to war;The plain and open country filled with gore.

Tus said: “This is a strife where chiefs contend;Now let the fighting of this day have end.

The cheek of day grows dark; the land with bloodHas turned from end to end to crimson flood.

Choose now a resting place, if darkening nightAllows us rest after this day of fight.

Perhaps our slain may find a bed of sand,With earth as coverlet across the land.”

The Iranians drew back with heads bowed low,Their hearts cut deep by comrades laid below.

When moon rose over mountains, bright and lone,Like some triumphant king on turquoise throne,

Piran the chieftain called his warriors near,And said: “Few foes remain for us to fear.

When topaz seas of morning flood the sky,And cast their waves on lapis realms on high,

I will destroy the remnant of their line,And make the Shah’s heart writhe with grief like mine.”

The troops went off rejoicing from the fight,And kept their camp awake through all the night.

Before their tents, the chang and rabab rang,And through the sleepless night their music sang.

Iran’s men mourned; the fathers wept for sons,While slain and wounded lay where blood still runs.

The plain was hidden by the dead and maimed,Their noble blood ran on, and none was claimed.

Severed hands and feet lay all around,No one knew where to set a foot on ground.

All night they raised their wounded, sunk in grief;The wounded foe they left without relief.

With fire they seared the wounds their comrades bore,Then bound and stitched the flesh that gaped and tore.

Of Gudarz’s line, full many wounded lay,Some fell; some, bound as captives, went away.

At this dark news he raised a bitter cry,The earth boiled where the horses thundered by.

The chiefs all tore their clothes in bitter pain;He poured dark dust upon his head like rain.

He cried: “No white-haired man has ever knownSuch grief as mine, such ruin of his own.

Why must I still survive with silver hair,When many sons lie slaughtered in despair?

Since birth my khaftan has been girded tight,I never loosed its binding day or night.

When I went forth with heroes into war,My sons and grandsons strengthened me before.

My line was shattered in that Turanian fray,My sons and grandsons swept from me away.

And Bahram, my own son, was lost to me,That famed, proud lion I no more shall see.”

Tus wailed; blood filled his lashes, grief laid bare,His face turned sandarac-pale in his despair.

He cried: “Had Nohzar never sown my root,Nor planted in the meadow stock and shoot,

Then toil and anguish would not wound me so,Nor grief for slain men in the battle’s throe.

Since first I took up arms at war’s command,My heart was pierced, though still alive I stand.

Now dig the graves and bury all our dead,And join to every trunk its severed head.

Move army, tents, and baggage out tonight;Seek Hamavan, its strong and guarded height.

Dispatch a hiyun now without delay;The Shah, enraged, will send fresh troops our way.

I sent a rider earlier from here,And warned Kay Khosrow what we had to fear.

He will send Zal’s great son to lead the van,And bring fresh troops as swiftly as he can.”

He mounted all the army, baggage stowed,And mourned the slain as toward the mount they rode.

When sunlight raised its crown to greet the day,On ivory throne the camphor’s whiteness lay.

Ten farsangs on, while foes lay sunk in sleep,Iran’s men marched, their steady course to keep.

Without a halt they pressed the road ahead,Their hearts in grief; their lips had known no bread.

Each eye was bloodshot, every heart was scarred,Each soul like raven feathers, black and marred.

They reached Mount Hamavan and set their trainUpon its outer slopes above the plain.

Then Tus addressed brave Giv, renowned and wise:“Illustrious chief, whose counsel none denies,

For three full days we marched and none were fed,Without repose, while grief around us spread.

Come, eat a little; lay your armor by,Then sleep and rest while night still holds the sky.

Piran will surely follow without stay,Intent on battle as he comes this way.

Go to the mountain; take your post; prepare,And leave our freshest troops in Bijan’s care.”

Then Giv led up the wounded from the strife,All weary of the world and sick of life.

He chose the freshest warriors from the band,And formed a rested force at his command.

“This mountain-top,” he said, “shall be our ground;Here we must set our weary ranks around.”

The outpost guards descended from the height,To bar the road and block the foe outright.

The guards cried out; the zang rang through the rocks,And stone and mountain boiled beneath the shocks.

When sun rose bright above the mountain crest,Turanian hearts for battle could not rest.

A roar from Piran’s quarters shook the ground;He led his force like fire with thunderous sound.

He said to Houman: “Do not now delay;Their riders, slain or wounded, cannot stay.”

He beat the koust; the shouting rose in might,And led his troops across the plain to fight.

But when they reached the field in full array,They found the camp deserted where it lay.

A spy returned to Piran from the field,“No Iranian remains with sword or shield.”

A shout of triumph rose from all the crowd;The troops awaited orders, fierce and loud.

Piran addressed Mobadan at his side:“O honored wise men, what should we decide?

What shall we do, now that our foes have fled?”Then all the horsemen, full of anger, said:

“The Iranians fled defeated from the field;Their blood and dust are all the signs they yield.

This is no time to fear or pause for breath;We should pursue and drive them toward their death.

Why should your wisdom counsel us to stay?Who flees the wind will plunge into the spray.”

Piran replied: “In war, the foot of hasteRuns blind, while measured counsel holds its place.

A sea of warriors gathers for the fray,Before Afrasiab in vast array.

Let us delay until that power appears,With fighting men, their shields and battle-spears.

Then none in Iran shall live to tell;Such measured counsel serves the wise men well.”

Then Houman said: “Enough, O chief of might;Let neither grief nor fear restrain the fight.

These warriors, both disciplined and bold,With sword and kamand, trained in battles old,

Have left their ground, their tents, their camp behind,And fled as though bereft of heart and mind.

Be sure of this: they were compelled to flee;Once and for all they turned their backs to me.

We must not let them reach Khosrow’s bright court,And gather fresh battalions for support.

Then Rostam marches forth from Zabul’s land,And our delay will cost us by his hand.

Now is the time for me to strike their line,And work my ruse before their hopes align.

We have clear hope of laying hands todayOn Tus and old Gudarz before they stray,

The Kaviani standard; what a prize!With elephants and koust before our eyes!”

Piran replied: “Go wakeful, bright in soul;Let star and counsel guide you to your goal.

Do this, for fortune rises with your name;Heaven’s wheel lies low beneath your height and fame.”

Piran set forth, his army at his back,And ordered Lahhak: “Take the swiftest track.

Do not delay; press hard with rein and heel,With two hundred warriors of tempered steel.

Keep girded; spur your horses at full pace,Until you learn their station and their base.”

Lahhak rode swiftly through the dark of night,Nor thought of food or sleep throughout his flight.

At midnight, watchers glimpsed him riding fast,Across the dusky plain his shadow passed.

A shout rose up; the zang rang from the height;He knew no time remained to stay and fight.

He turned at once and rode to wise Piran,And brought him word of Tus and Hamavan:

“They hold Mount Hamavan, its summit manned;They block the road, and armed for battle stand.”

Piran said: “Press rein and stirrup; ride;Take famed mounted champions at your side.

The Iranians have climbed the mountain-height,Their troops and standard gathered for the fight.

This war will bring hard toil and grief to all;Use all your wit before their mountain wall.

If Kaveh’s Kaviani standard falls,Then daylight darkens round their mountain walls.

If fortune grants you access in the fight,Cut flag and staff apart with sword outright.

I follow swiftly on your battle track;I shall not linger or remain held back.”

Houman chose thirty thousand men to ride,With shields and scimitars at either side.

When shining sun displayed its radiant face,And filled the earth with love in every place,

The dust of Houman’s army veiled the day;The lookout cried: “Turan now comes this way!

Up to the darkened clouds their dust was blown;A mighty army came, its strength now shown!”

Tus donned his jowshan, ready for the fight;The horn and koust rang out with all their might.

Iranian horsemen gathered rank on rank,Around the mountain’s foot and stony flank.

Their swords and gorz and spears in every hand,Like lions round the bright Kaviani standard stand.

Then Houman called to Tus and Gudarz: “YouWith koust and elephants came marching through.

You came to raid Turan and win renown,But fled like hunted game when war bore down.

Routed, exhausted, broken in the fight,Have you no sense of shame before this sight?

Do food and rest and sleep await in stone?Can rock and mountain make such comforts known?

Tomorrow when the sun crowns every height,I will make Hamavan a sea outright.

I shall drag you from this mountain land,And bind your hands in coils of my kamand.

I shall send you bound to Afrasiab’s side,Without food, rest, or sleep, your hands still tied.

Then you will know this refuge served in vain,A helpless course that brings you only pain.”

A hiyun sped to Piran at full speed:“Our plan was otherwise; mark now our need.

The mountain swarms with troops; the koust resound,Behind Tus and Gudarz the flag is found.

When pure day breaks and world-light crowns the sky,Be there prepared, your army standing by.

Then marshal all your forces for the fray,And blacken all the plain at break of day.”

The hiyun reached Piran with Houman’s call,And Piran’s blood boiled hot on hearing all.

When darkness fell and sleep possessed the plain,He drove his army like a surging main.

When sun, grown weary of its veil of night,Broke through and filled the world again with light,

Piran reached Hamavan’s guarded span,While dust concealed the world from horse and man.

He said to Houman: “Keep your forces here;I first will speak with Tus and make things clear.

I will ask why the Kaviani standard flies,And who revealed this mountain to their eyes.

What hope sustains you on this mountain height?”His head held vengeance, heart held sin and spite.

Piran cried: “O Tus, renowned in battle’s course,With elephants, gopal, and koust in force,

Five months have passed since war consumed the plain,Gudarz’s foremost kin lie headless, slain.

You fled, your panting soldiers in your train,And climbed the heights, your heart still bent on bane.

Like mountain sheep, you sought the rocky lair,Yet surely you will fall within my snare.”

Noble Tus then replied: “I scorn your lies;Your falsehoods cannot stand before my eyes.

For Siavash you stirred the fires of hate,And spread new vengeance through the proud and great.

Have you no shame for words of heated air?They will not lure me to your waiting snare.

May no such Pahlevan as you ariseAmong the mighty, honored by the wise.

Your oath destroyed Siavash in Turan’s land,His blood convulsed the earth on every hand.

You held him there in Turan by deceit;Now war and vengeance answer that dark feat.

Alas for that great prince, that noble face,Whose presence once brought joy to every place.

By these devices, by such fraud and spite,You gain no luster in a true man’s sight.

We could not forage on the battlefield;So toward Mount Hamavan my army wheeled.

Kay Khosrow now has heard our bitter plight,With Zal and Rostam gathering for the fight.

When once the Shah comes marching on his way,No land or tilled field in Turan will stay.

Since you are here, let open battle start;This is no time for ambush or false art.”

Piran sent troops to seize each mountain road;His mountain-like battalions round it flowed.

When every path to food and forage was barred,Piran devised how best to press them hard.

Houman said: “We must seize the mountain base;Then Iran’s vengeance ends within this place.”

Piran replied, “The wind blows in our face;No man can fight the wind in any case.

They have no room to forage or to graze,And none can hold bare rock through hungry days.

Their troops will cease to heed their leader’s call;With battle’s fire gone, their courage will fall.

They will seek zanhar and turn from the fray;This is for mercy, not battle array.”

Gudarz and Tus suspected what was planned,And fear fell heavy on the chieftains’ band.

Old Gudarz said to Tus: “We now must fight;No other course remains upon this height.

Three days of food remain, no open way;No road lies open for us night or day.

We have no tents, no huts, no baggage-train;A hungry army cannot long remain.

So when the sun turns pale and leaves our sight,A lapis curtain spreads across the night.

Let chosen horsemen then descend the height,And ride together toward the field of fight.

We will make a night attack and test our fate,And see if Fortune comes to aid our state.

We perish one by one, or else obtainThe hero’s crown through battle, blood, and pain.

Such is the end that every battle brings:One gains the dust, one crown and rank of kings.”

Tus listened to Gudarz; his heart was soreWith pain from ancient vengeance borne before.

He waited till the night had crossed the sky;The sun went down, and darkness gathered high.

When one watch passed and every voice was still,Tus armed himself to test his strength and will.

He called the men of action to his side,And set the wings where chosen chiefs would ride.

One wing to brave Bijan he gave that night,One to Shidush and Kharrad for the fight.

The Kaviani standard Gostaham bore,And Tus gave counsel for the coming war.

Then Tus with Giv and Rohham, chiefs of fame,Raised their heavy gorz as the battle came.

They made for bold Piran without delay,Like fire they struck the Turanian array.

The field became a sea of blood and cries;A mighty shout rose upward to the skies.

Piran’s great standard split beneath the blow;His troops were panic-stricken by the foe.

When Houman heard that cry, he mounted fast;His coal-black Arab bore him toward the blast.

He came and saw the slaughtered where they lay,And fighting men turned from the field away.

He wept blood-tears upon his breast and cried:“Was there no watchman posted on this side?

Had none among you heart enough to fight?We outnumber them three hundredfold tonight.

Such sleep is evil when the battle calls;Draw swords and gopals, raise Chinese shield-walls.

The moon above the mountain lifts its light,And draws a silver blade across the night.

Surround the foe and bar each outward way;Let neither fighting man nor laggard stray.”

The karnay rang; the ranks pressed on ahead,And ringed the horsemen, filling them with dread.

Iran’s riders, raging lions, stood at bay,While foes closed round, and none could break away.

Sparks flashed from helm and sword through murky air;It seemed the clouds rained heavy gorz everywhere.

Night, dust, and scimitars concealed the light,No star was seen; the moon was veiled from sight.

It seemed a wall of jowshan hemmed them round,A sea of pitch had swallowed sky and ground.

Then Houman cried: “Bring chiefs as captives; striveTo let no arrow wound them; take them alive.”

They shouted back: “Their hands we bind, or allBeneath our gopal and our zhupin fall.

Crown every chief of Iran with blood-red gore;Let blood become the crown that each one wore.”

Then Tus said to Rohham and Giv: “Our livesAre lost unless Yazdan our strength revives,

And frees both soul and body from this net,And guards us from the ruin round us set.

We hang like prey within an eagle’s clutch,Or sink beneath the sea beyond all touch.”

Like savage lions springing to the fray,They charged together, sweeping foes away.

The pipe, the koust, Indian daray, and zangAcross the field in brazen clamor rang.

No man could see his horse’s mane or rein,Spearpoints drove near his eyes through dust and pain.

Houman exclaimed: “You have no room for flightOr fight; ill fortune found you here tonight.

Ill fate has driven you from guarded height,So evil finds the guilty in this fight.”

Amid such strife those three heroic menHeld fast though little strength remained to them.

They thought of Rostam’s prowess everywhere,And longed for aid within that deadly snare.

They thought of Shidush, Bijan in the fray,And Gostaham; would no one come their way?

They cried: “Will no Iranian aid our cause?We rushed headlong into the nahang’s jaws.

Woe to the Shah’s great throne and portal high;For we shall soon be seized beneath this sky.

Rostam and Zal in Zabulistan stay;Iran itself will fall to ruin today.”

“Iran will perish!” Then rose the koust’s sound,With gopal blows from Iran’s waiting ground.

But Giv and Tus returned not from the plain;Shidush and Gostaham cried out in pain.

The lion Gostaham said: “Tus too longHas fought where gorz and sword strike fierce and strong.”

Guraza said to brave Bijan: “Our chiefHas labored long in battle without relief.”

Then from the plain the koust began to sound;Air darkened, earth grew ebony around.

The warriors hastened toward Tus’s cry;Blood stained the field beneath the darkening sky.

They came behind the foe with their gorz raised,And struck with heavy blows as fury blazed.

Tus knew that help had reached the deadly field,And roared like koust above the sword and shield.

His rein grew light; the stirrup heavy lay,His fallen fortune rose from low that day.

Rohham and Giv, who heard Bijan’s brave voice,Became like lions and made hearts rejoice.

Thus fought they on until the night had fled,When light above the mountains rose and spread.

Then they recalled their men and drew them back,Toward rocky heights along the mountain-track.

The chieftain Tus then spoke before the band:“From sunset till the koust you held your stand.

May evil eyes stay far from every one;May battle turn to feast when strife is done.

I never knew of warriors who could showSuch gallantry against so vast a foe.

My first prayer is that God may guard and keepUs from the evil eye, awake or asleep.

He is my refuge always, and I trustThat He will lift you from this blood and dust.

I trust that aid, like smoke, will soon draw near,Before despair can master us through fear.

My hiyun stands before the Shah to plead;He knows at last our bitter state and need.

My letter’s fire will burn his heart clean through;And Rostam, elephant in might, comes too.

With noble lions gathered at his side,We shall return in triumph, satisfied.

We shall behold Khosrow before his men,And tell him of the griefs we suffered then.

We will report to that triumphant kingAll open, hidden deeds this war may bring.

Through royal kindness, through the Shah’s own grace,Each man shall find good fortune in its place.”

A swift courier then sped upon its way,To bear their message to the Shah that day.

Both sides ceased fighting, spent from what they bore;The field stood balanced, even as before.

On both sides scouts advanced upon the plain,Where valiant warriors had been newly slain.

Houman came forth; dead bodies choked the way,And spoke to wise Piran without delay:

“Withdraw today; this battle missed our aim;Let proven horsemen rest, their strength reclaim.

Then I shall wage a fight of such a kind,No sun or moon its equal yet could find.”

Their counsel ended; each withdrew apart,Intent upon the schemes within his heart.

News came to Kay Khosrow: “Piran prevails;Tus has withdrawn; his star of fortune fails.

Full many chieftains vanished in the fight,And Iran’s heart was darkened by their plight.

The house of Gudarz, Keshvad’s son, stood bare,Its chiefs and nobles lost in battle’s snare.

Their star lamented over beds of pain,While blood beside their pillows left its stain.

The world was dust and blood from that dark blow;The lofty star of Tus had fallen low.”

Khosrow heard this; his heart was overturned,And grief within the world-king fiercely burned.

He called the Piltan Rostam to his hall,And summoned with him those who heard his call.

Iran’s Mobadan and its sages came,Men tried by years, experience, and fame.

Khosrow, the chief of chieftains, loosed his tongue,And told how battle’s wrath had burned and stung.

He said to Rostam: “High exalted one,I fear our ancient state is overrun.

My heart is full of fear and dark dismay;Our ancient fortune turns from us today.

You fostered crown and throne in former days;World-ruling fortune shines beneath your rays.

The heart of heaven rests upon your blade;Beneath you earth and sky and time are laid.

You tore the White Div’s heart and brain apart;The age has built its hopes upon your heart.

The earth round Rakhsh stands servant at your side,And Time, a loving mother, is your guide.

Your flashing sword can scorch the sun’s bright ray,While Venus weeps when gorz-blows rule the day.

Your feathered shafts, pointed, make lions tireOf battle on the day of bale and fire.

Since you became a man and wore a helm,No foe has cast his eye toward Iran’s realm.

Now Tus and Giv, Gudarz, and other chiefs,With men of this land burdened by their griefs,

Have fled with tearful eyes and hearts of blood,Before Afrasiab’s ranks in battle’s flood.

Full many of Gudarz’s noble bandLie with the earth as bed across the land.

Those who escaped the slaughter still surviveOn Hamavan, where broken spirits strive.

They lift their heads to heaven in their prayer,To Him who holds all time and place in care,

That Rostam Piltan may reach this land,By Yazdan’s power and at my command.

As through the letter in dark night I went,My liver’s blood in bitter grief was spent.

For three days I told no one of this grief,Save God, the Helper, source of all relief.

But now this grief has passed all mortal bounds;My heart is ringed by fear that still surrounds.

The army and its chief place hope in you;Stay bright in soul, in body sound and true.

May green your head remain, your heart rejoice;May ill men never harm old Zal by choice.

Ask what you will; I grant it as your right:Steeds, arms, and treasure, troops equipped for fight.

Go with good counsel and a joyful heart;So great a work must not be done in part.”

The hero answered: “May your crown and ringStill flourish with you, just and noble king.

No king like you has heaven seen arise,In farr and burz, in counsel just and wise.

The Shah knows well that since Qobad first woreThe royal crown and opened kingship’s door,

For Iran’s vengeance I have girded tight,And never spent one day apart from fight.

Through wilderness and darkness, Div and dread,Through lions, spells, and dragons I have sped.

Through Turan, Mazandaran, blackest night,Through many heavy gorz raised high to smite.

Long journeys, thirst, and hardship shaped my days;I chose toil’s door above all softer ways.

So many toils and hardships have I known,No day of joy or ease I called my own.

You are the king of earth; I serve your throne,And stand prepared, your purpose to be shown.

My waist is girded; with an army’s might,I will turn Iran’s evil back in fight,

Do not mourn the warriors who fought and died;Let every foe fall back on every side.

For Gudarz’s kin my liver burns with pain;I gird my waist in mourning for the slain.”

When Kay Khosrow heard Rostam, tears arose;Two streams ran down the Shah’s face in his woes.

He said: “Without you life has lost its glow;I want no orung, crown, or gorz or bow.

Let heaven’s vault be captured by your chain,And crowned heads lie in bonds beneath your reign.”

The treasurer unlocked the royal store,And brought out crowns and jewels by the score,

With kolah, bows and kamand, belts and gear,And sacks of silver coin were gathered near.

The Shah gave all to Rostam and then said:“O warrior whose fame is widely spread,

Go with Zabulistan’s gorz-bearing band,And Kabul’s mighty warriors at your hand.

Move swift as wind; do not delay your pace,And let no soldier linger in his place.

Choose thirty thousand swordsmen, battle-tried,Prepared for war, with danger at their side.

Give troops to Fariborz, Kavus’s son,To lead the van until revenge is won.”

Then peerless Rostam kissed the ground and said:“Rein and stirrup, cohorts where I am led.

We will urge on the chiefs; let ease and restBe far from us till war has passed its test.”

He paid the troops in silver on the plain,And armed for battle with his fighting train.

He said to Fariborz: “At dawn, depart,And lead the vanguard with a steadfast heart.

Sleep neither day nor night upon the way,Until you reach Tus where the armies stay.

Say to him: ‘Do not rush into the fray;Use stratagem, and hold the foe at bay.

I come behind you swiftly as the gale,And on the road my speed will never fail.

With Gorgin, son of Milad, at your side,Battle-tried in good and ill to guide.’”

Fariborz came to Rostam, heart intent,And spoke the secret wish his purpose meant:

“Crown-bestowing chief, with Rakhsh and khaftan bright,With gopal raised, you guard the crown in fight.

I bear within my heart a secret prayer,That I can speak to none but you and share.

O Pahlevan, the refuge of the field,Before whose might the proudest warriors yield,

Through you our champions lift helmets high;May God preserve you under turning sky.

The royal ring and crown stand firm through you,The signet and Iran’s renown stand true.

Know, Siavash and I, by blood allied,Were brothers, standing ever side by side.

It is most fitting I should wed his wife,A mate well matched to me in rank and life.

Urge this upon the Shah, exalted guide,And crown my head by setting her beside.”

Then Rostam answered: “What you ask, I do;Whatever you desire, I shall see through.”

The elephantine chief approached and said:“O famed Khosrow, whose crown adorns your head,

I have a matter I would raise on high,To lift my head beyond the moonlit sky.

I ask it only by the monarch’s leave,For God approves what just men should receive.”

Khosrow replied: “Speak freely what you pray;Whatever you desire, speak it today.”

“Through you both love and justice reach mankind,And hold the world in balance, well combined.

Like heaven with two faces turned below,Your justice and your loving mercy flow.

Among the chiefs, Fariborz leads the rest;No prince surpasses him in valor’s test.

For wisdom and for prowess, I can findNo prince of royal worth to match his mind.

He seeks Siavash’s place beside his bride,To fill the place his brother held, who died.

When he rides out to avenge his brother’s blood,And bears his sword against Turan’s dark flood,

Let Afrasiab’s daughter guard his hall,His wealth, and share each care that may befall.

Let these two shine together, sun and moon,One royal house beneath one blessed boon.”

Khosrow consented when he heard the plea,And said: “Famed man, whose counsel strengthens me,

Fortune tramples those who turn asideFrom words that you in wisdom have supplied.

Nothing but good can come from words you say;Live glorious and honored every day.

Yet I cannot urge this, as you know well;Such speech from me would not be wise to tell.

But if my mother will consent to hear,I shall present your counsel, just and clear.”

Together then they sought the moonlike dame,Rostam the peerless and the Shah of fame.

Khosrow said: “Memory of my father’s face,In good and ill, my refuge and my grace,

Though I may rule, you are my Shah and guide;Your wisdom stands above my royal pride.

You know the army’s toil in Turan’s war,And how our mighty men are here no more.

You know how many noble warriors lie,While women mourn their empty homes and cry.

I mean to send a force with Rostam, Zal’s son,To turn our shame to grief when war is won.

Fariborz shall then lead the vanguard line,While Rostam makes the field with valor shine.

Rostam has asked, for Fariborz, your hand;Tell me your pleasure; let me understand.

May greatness and all good attend your days,And fortune crown you with enduring praise.”

On hearing this, old memories returned;Her heart grew vexed, and former sorrow burned.

Then tears arose; at last she spoke her mind:“I do not blame great Rostam, just and kind.

I do not blame him; yet, if I were free,This is no time for marriage now for me.

For heaven alone turns aside our plea,When he requests a prize that all agree.”

Then Rostam said to her: “O dame of dames,Whose spotless worth the voice of honor names,

May all your foes be broken into dust;Now hear the counsel that I deem most just.

You know a woman does not rest alone;She needs a fitting partner in her home.

And youth with youth is fittingly allied;The young should have their equal at their side.

Best of all is one of Kayanian race,A mate of crown, of lineage, and grace.

Man lives for woman’s sake, and woman’s heartYearns for her mate with no divided part.

Victorious Fariborz, Kavus’s son,Is fit to wear the crown when deeds are done.

The throne itself gains luster from his name;His royal blood and worth uphold his fame.

He was Siavash’s brother and his peer,Of one great royal house and lineage clear.

He rules the greater part of Iran’s land,And many realms lie under his command.

The settled country and the desert plainAlike are his to govern and maintain.

By leave, advice, and order of the king,I urge the match that Fariborz would bring.

What do you say? Is Fariborz approved?Is this a match by which your heart is moved?

Do you regard him fitting at your side,In crown and lineage worthy as your guide?

You will do well to heed the words I give,The Shah’s advice, by which the great should live.”

The Shah of ladies sat in silent grief,While sorrow pressed her heart without relief.

Before her son, shame held her tongue in place;At last she sighed and raised her grieving face.

Then, sighing deeply, she to Rostam said:“O leader whose great prowess crowns your head,

Though none in Iran equals Siavash in fame,Fariborz bears a royal, honored name.

Yet none can make Siavash’s glory fade;No man can fill the place that prince once made.

Yet at your words my tongue is bound in chain;Against your counsel I cannot complain.

What does the famous monarch ask of me?I gird myself to honor his decree.”

Khosrow rejoiced to hear the words she said;His face bloomed like a spring rose newly spread.

He turned to Rostam: “Bring this to its end;Proceed at once; no further time expend.”

Since Rostam pressed, and she at last agreed,They called the Mobadan to seal the deed.

The marriage contract then was drawn and read;Farangis joined with Fariborz to wed.

By wedding Khosrow’s mother in that rite,He entered royal kinship in full right.

Favored by Kay Khosrow and Rostam too,His dignity and rank in honor grew.

The Shah gave robe of honor, new crown, fame;Three days he stayed; the fourth departure came.

Then Rostam with his warriors took the plain,While Fariborz advanced with martial train.

Fariborz went before, a star on high;His splendor shone like starlight in the sky.

At sunrise then the karnay sounded clear;And Rostam moved the army without fear.

Khosrow rode two farsangs beside the train,Then turned while Rostam hurried toward the plain.

Two stages Rostam made as one each day,And neither day nor night would rest or stay.

One night, when drumbeat marked the darkened hour,Tus slept, heart-seared beneath grief’s heavy power.

From water’s depth a sudden radiance came,And through the darkness rose a living flame.

An ivory throne stood radiant in its light,With Siavash enthroned there, crowned and bright.

His smiling lips and gentle speech drew near,His sun-bright face shone radiant and clear.

He turned to Tus and spoke, his words sincere:“Keep all Iran’s assembled warriors here.

For victory shall come when battle calls;Grieve not for Gudarz’s kin whom death enthralls.

For here a fresh rose-garden now is made,Where we shall drink beneath its flowering shade.

Who knows how long beneath these blooms we stay,Or how long wine will gladden us this way?”

Then Tus awoke, his grief and pain withdrawn,And turned with joy to Gudarz, Pahlevan.

“I saw a vision; mark these words of mine:Rostam will come like wind to aid our line.”

He bade the ney resound; from every heightThe mountain poured forth warriors armed for fight.

The men of Iran armed themselves for war,And raised the Kaviani flag they bore.

Piran advanced with all his army’s might,Their dust turned black the sun’s resplendent light.

The champions shouted; arrows filled the sky,Their storm of shafts dazzled the sun’s bright eye.

The two sides met, but none came forth to showHimself as champion before the foe.

Then Houman said to wise Piran: “Attack.Why pause so long or hold the army back?

These troops have not come hunting through the plain;Both man and beast bear battle’s weight and pain.”

Piran replied: “Do not be rash today;This is no time for haste in what we say.

Last night three men, with but a paltry band,Attacked before our ranks could make a stand.

They came like hungry lions, fierce and bold;We were the flock they scattered in the cold.

I found the whole plain like a stream of blood,With famous heads laid low within the mud.

Iran’s men starve upon that barren height;Their chargers smell dry thorns as musk tonight.

Wait till they burn upon the crags and die,Without resource beneath this mountain’s sky.

Bar every road before them and behind;Leave not one open path that they may find.

If toil-free capture comes into our hand,Why spoil it now through haste against their band?

Why seek a battle when their strength is slight?Let ten swift horsemen scout the plain tonight.

Wait till their food and water stores run bare,And come to us for zanhar in despair.

Unless they feed on thorn and flint for grain,When fodder fails, they cannot long remain.”

They left the field and sought their tents that night,While scouts stood posted facing toward the height.

The warriors loosed their girdles after strife,And turned to food and rest to strengthen life.

Tus too withdrew, his heart with blood oppressed,His face turned ebony beneath distress.

He said to old Gudarz: “Our case is dark;Iran’s good fortune shows no guiding spark.

Their armies ring us; beasts must feed on thorn,While little food remains when day is born.

No remedy remains for our hard lot,But sword and gopal when the food is not.

Draw swords at dawn and rank along the height;If fortune favors us, we stand and fight.

But if the Judge of heaven ends us here,Then let us fall by steel, and scorning fear.

What He decrees no mortal hand can stay;Do not count breaths in dread before the fray.

Death crowned with fame is better for the braveThan life in fear and harm till comes the grave.”

The chiefs agreed upon the plan as one,Which their fortunate sepahbod had begun.

When sun from Cancer tore the musk-dark veil,A messenger to Piran rode the trail.

He came from Afrasiab to Piran’s side,And said: “Great armies gather like a tide.

From every quarter armies gather near;Their dust would turn the Sea of Chin to desert sere.

One chief from Mawarannahr stands bold,His head rises past heaven’s turning fold.

He bears a hundred lions’ strength in fight,And brings great elephants beneath his might.

In height a cypress, moonlike in his face,With crowns and thrones as playthings of his place.

Kamus, this chief of chiefs, has come to war,And Tus and old Gudarz shall feel his roar.

From Sipanjab to Rum their ranks extend,All peopled lands their fighting armies send.

Afrasiab has sent them to the fray,To bring down Tus and Khosrow in their day.

First comes the Khan of Chin with crown and throne,The earth his seat, the sky his crown, his own.

Brave Manshur follows, whose sharp falchion’s thrustLays warriors’ heads in battle’s choking dust.

Then comes Kamus, the swordsman none can beat,From Kashan, who has never known defeat.

All prospers in his hand; when wrath winds blow,His anger brings the bitter wind and snow.”

Piran addressed Turan’s assembled line:“O chiefs and men who bear the kingly sign,

Rejoice, all chiefs and warriors, at this news;Let every grieving heart its joy now choose.

Now wash away the sorrow in your hearts;Let joy return as grief at last departs.

I will leave neither field nor crop in peace;Iran’s tilled lands and harvests all shall cease.

The king’s long toil is ended with this hour;Revenge and mustering no more drain his power.

You shall behold Afrasiab’s might expandThrough Iran, Turan, sea and solid land.”

From those approaching powers, heralds came,Each bringing tidings of new kings of fame.

They said: “O famous Pahlevan, rejoice;Let joy arise in every heart and voice.

Be glad to see these kings before your sight;Let every grief within your heart take flight.

From Kashmir to the Shahd their forces ride,With elephants, mahd, standards at their side.

From Saklab Kundur comes, a lion bold,And Biward comes from Kat, in battle old.

From Sagzar comes brave Garcha in the van;From Hind comes Shangul with his fighting clan.

Standards fill the air from side to side,And swords across the earth spread far and wide.

Chaghan sends Fartus, light of every field;Gahan sends Gahar, fire where foemen yield.

Shamiran comes from Shakn, first of the age,Whose spear and sword pour poison in their rage.

Now lift your head and take your pleasure here;This news would make an old man young with cheer.”

Piran laughed aloud, his spirit restored;New life appeared within that aged lord.

He said to Houman: “I will go to meetThese kings who crossed long roads with weary feet.

They come prepared for battle, full of care;Their heads with Afrasiab’s height compare.

They bear great treasure, luster, throne, and state;I shall assess each army and its weight.

I will learn numbers, chiefs, and champions too,Then bow before the Khan, as is his due.

I will kiss the earth before the Khan’s high seat,And look upon Kamus when first we meet.

I will send out Shangul, Tus himself to face;Then gird my waist and rob Iran of breath and grace.

If they cannot withstand our coming might,Their day shall grow both dark and strait in fight.

I shall bind their chiefs, if any still remain,With heavy bonds on feet and necks in chain.

Those who survive among Iran’s armed bandI shall send bound to Afrasiab’s hand.

I shall not rest or sleep till all is done;The captured footmen I shall seize as one.

Behead the captives, set their flesh aflare,And cast their ashes on the empty air.

Then I will think no more about that place;Another plan shall take its former space.

I shall divide our army in three bands,And darken thus the Shah of Iran’s lands.

One line to Balkh I shall send forth in wrath,To make Iran’s day dark along that path.

Another army shall march on Kabul’s plain,And bear Zabulistan’s ashes in its train.

The third, with Turanian lion-men arrayed,I shall lead on where Iran’s lines are laid.

I will spare neither old nor young in strife,Nor woman, man, nor child who clings to life.

I shall lay Iran’s settled country low,Nor spare the open lands where wild winds blow.

May neither hand nor foot be spared in fight;But wait for my command before you smite.”

Thus spoke Piran, revenge within his breast;His skin seemed near to bursting from unrest.

Then Houman told the troops: “Cast care away;For two full days maintain this watch and stay.

Keep both your eyes on Hamavan’s steep height,And guard its every passage day and night.

Let no Iranian slip away unseenBy night from this confined and narrow scene.

Soon mountain, river, valley, plain, and roadWill fill with standards and our army’s load.”

When Piran reached the allied camp, so vastThat hooves hid plain and valley, thickly massed,

The tents and rich enclosures filled the ground,With red and yellow, blue and violet crowned.

Amid each camp a royal standard shone,Of diba and parniyan richly sewn.

Amazed, he pondered on that wondrous show,And searched his heart to grasp what lay below.

“Is this Paradise, or banquet bright,The starry heaven, or moon’s circling light?”

Afoot he came and kissed the ground in greeting;The Khan received him gladly at their meeting.

The Khan embraced him, marveling at his frame,His chest and neck, his stature and his fame.

He questioned him at length, with honor shown,And seated Piran near him on the throne.

He said: “My soul is bright with joy today,To sit beside a Pahlevan this way.”

He asked: “Among Iran’s assembled band,Who bears the signet, crown, and standard grand?

What troops and chiefs are gathered in their train?Why do they hold Mount Hamavan’s domain?”

Piran replied: “O king of lasting praise,May God, the Maker, bless your crown and days.

Your questions bring deep gladness to my heart;Your fortune makes me sound, and grief depart.

My soul desired the dust beneath your feet;No other wish or joy could seem so sweet.

Iran’s men have no signet, crown, or throne;No royal splendor can they call their own.

They sought a war beyond all measure known,And gained from all their striving only stone.

Dishonored, foiled, and weakened in the fight,They fled to Hamavan in headlong flight.

Their leader Tus, a warrior renowned,Fears not the lion roaming battleground.

Their chiefs are Gudarz, Keshvad’s noble son,With Giv and Rohham, famed for battles won.

By fortune of the Khan, whose crown is bright,Their chief shall see no other army’s might.

They will not leave the rocks to fight below;Save flinty stone, no refuge do they know.”

The Khan replied: “Stay near me, you and yours;Bring all your chosen comrades to my doors.

Today we drink our wine with joyful cheer;Count not tomorrow’s grief till it is here.”

He decked his tent to bloom as gardens spring;Its colors made a heaven for the king.

When sunlight climbed and filled the world with light,Tus and Gudarz grew troubled at the sight.

“Why do Turanians hold their ranks in place?Do they take counsel, or has wine dulled their pace?

In joy or grief, we must prepare for ill;From hostile men I trust no peaceful will.

If fresh battalions have reinforced their line,Then evil fortune darkens our design.

Count all Iran’s assembled army dead,Or, if alive, as fugitives who fled.

If Rostam does not hasten to our side,This army’s weight will break us like a tide.

No ossuary or grave shall be our bed;Their horses’ hooves will pound each fallen head.”

Giv said to Tus: “Why let your mind be crossed,O Shah’s sepahbod, thinking all is lost?

Our thought is otherwise; the Maker standsBeside us still, the Helper of our bands.

We have sown seeds of goodness on our way,And serve the World-Creator and obey.

Trust in the fortune of our world-ruling king,Whose sword and throne and crown have sovereign ring.

The World-Creator will not leave our lineBeneath ill-wishers’ yoke by His design.

When Rostam comes and reaches battleground,Our army’s troubles all will cease around.

Let no man cease to trust in Yazdan’s might,Though bright day should be swallowed into night.

Do not constrict your heart with needless fear,Because one day they have not battled here.

They have not shut the gates of heaven’s grace;Each ill design will end and lose its place.

If the High Maker has decreed our pain,Then harm may come despite what we ordain.

No anxious thought, no caution born of fear,Can turn aside the fate that draws us near.

Let us construct a trench before our line,As warriors do when danger gives its sign.

Then keep our swords drawn ready for the fray;Two further days we hold ourselves this way.

Then we shall see what purpose they intend,And bring their hidden counsel to an end.

News from Iran will surely come to light,And make our lofty cypress-bough shine bright.”

Gudarz departed from the ranks below,And climbed the mountain crest to scan the foe.

The lookout cried, his heart oppressed with woe:“Disaster has undone Iran, I know,

The shining sun declined across the sky,And drew its golden splendor from on high.

The world grew dark as lapis through the haze,As rising dust engulfed the daylight’s blaze.

The standards on the elephants flew wide;Their dust obscured the sun on every side.”

Gudarz heard and cried, “Dark earth all aloneCan hide me from the grief my heart has known.”

His cheeks turned black as pitch; an arrow’s smartSeemed driven through the center of his heart.

He cried, “My share from Time is war and strife,Revenge and battle have consumed my life.

Ill fortune is the portion I have known;Where cure should be, its poison has been sown.

I had many a son and grandson brave,Renowned throughout the land, now in the grave.

For Siavash they fell, my noble dead;My wakeful fortune turned from me and fled.

I hope no more from life; my day is night;My fortune has turned black and lost its light.

I wish my mother never gave me birth,Nor high heaven ever turned above the earth.”

He told the watch: “Far-seeing, clear of mind,Look once again and tell me what you find.

Survey Iran and Turan from this height;Tell me what movement meets your searching sight.

Where is the banner of Iran’s great chief?Search left and right, and answer to my grief.”

The watchman said, “No movement marks our side;But all their army stirs both far and wide.

No stir is seen among our weary train;One might believe our warriors sleep in pain.”

The Pahlevan then shed his bitter tears,And cried aloud before his gathered peers:

“Saddle my steed; let brick now be my bed;From this day forth let brick support my head.

I go once more to fill my eyes with friends,And clasp them close before our fortune ends.

Shidush and Bijan, Rohham, Giv the bold,I will embrace while arms can clasp and hold.

Those fiery warriors of noble breed,I will kiss their faces while my lashes bleed.”

His gallant bay stood saddled at his side,When from the height the watchman loudly cried:

“Rejoice, world-Pahlevan; let sorrow cease,For aid from Iran comes to bring release.

A black dust rises on Iran’s road today,And darkens all the daylight on its way.

Within its heart, bright standards fill the gloom,Like moons that rise above a battle’s plume.

The first bears wolf-sign, fierce against the sky;The next displays the moon and rides on high.

The third, a dragon with a lion’s head,In gold, is blazing where the banners spread.”

Gudarz exclaimed, “Long may your life be charmed;May every evil glance pass by disarmed.

If what you tell proves true before my eyes,I will reward you with a royal prize.

I will bestow such varied wealth on youThat want and hardship vanish from your view.

When we return to Iran’s royal land,And reach the throne where king and nobles stand,

I will present you proudly at his throne,And lift your head where noble names are known.

Now leave the lookout; hasten down the height,And tell our chiefs all seen within your sight.

Be quick; send any rider you can find,And spread these tidings swiftly down the line.”

The watchman said, “I cannot leave this crest,For on my watching all the chiefs’ hopes rest.

But when the dark has sealed my watching eye,I will descend like Simorgh from the sky.

Then I will bear these tidings to our men,And give their weary hearts new strength again.”

Gudarz replied: “Stay watchful on this height;Look once again and sharpen well your sight.

See how much time remains before they near;Tell me the hour when they reach us here.”

The watchman said, “At dawn, when sunlight spills,That force will stand beside Hamavan’s hills.”

Such joy then filled Gudarz, so deep and bright,It might have brought the dead again to sight.

Piran, meanwhile, like flying dust-clouds wheeled,And led fresh Turan troops toward the field.

A horseman rode ahead to spread the word,And tell the joyful news that he had heard.

When Houman heard, he laughed aloud and said,“Our wakeful fortune walks with us ahead.”

From all Turan a shout of triumph rose,And climbed the clouds above their waiting foes.

Iran’s great nobles, full of care and pain,With yellow faces, lips of lapis stain,

Withdrew in bands along the mountain wall,To take last counsel should the army fall.

They gathered everywhere and wailed aloud:“Woe for our warriors, royal and proud.

Forgotten by Iran and left to doom,We face the lion’s jaws, a living tomb.

Those lions’ mouths shall be the heroes’ grave,Their blood shall soak the earth in crimson wave.”

Tus spoke to Bijan: “Climb the height and seeWhat force approaches, and report to me.

Mark well their numbers, leaders, and array;Observe their strength and road of march today.

Look for their camps, enclosures, thrones, and train;Report the fullest truth your eyes obtain.”

Bijan, the son of Giv, went up alone,And climbed the mountain over barren stone.

He saw flags, horsemen, elephants in rows,An army spread wherever eyesight goes.

He ran back down, with pain within his breast,And anxious care that would not let him rest.

He said, “The earth beneath wears indigo hue;Their troops and elephants block every view.

Their flags and spears outnumber thought or tongue;Sunlight dims where dust in heaven is hung.

No bound or measure marks that army’s sweep;The tabira deafens valley, crag, and steep.”

Tus heard; his heart was filled with bitter fears,And sorrow filled his face and eyes with tears.

He called the captains of Iran’s whole train,And grieved with them upon the army’s pain.

He said, “The turns of war bring grief and woe;I have seen triumph, flight, and overthrow.

Yet never has such fear oppressed my breast;One path remains, and action serves us best.

Though arms are few and few the men we field,We shall prepare to strike and never yield.

Tonight we strike and make the earth a flood,A Jihun running deep with foemen’s blood.

If I am slain, another chief will stand,While kings endure, to lead Iran’s armed band.

Let no man say a warrior died unknown;If Tus lies under earth, his fame has grown.”

The chiefs approved the course that Tus had planned,And all prepared to strike with sword in hand.

The earth became a sea of pitch-black night;Mars, Venus, Mercury withdrew from sight.

The moon from Pisces rose with silver light,And tore the dark robe down, with all its might.

The watchman hurried down with urgent pace,Like sandarac the color of his face.

He cried to Tus: “An army comes our way,The Shah has sent this force from Iran today.”

Tus laughed among the chiefs when this was heard,Then turned to all renowned and spoke his word:

“Now seek no battle; aid has come in sight;For haste has its own hour, and waiting right.

By Yazdan’s power Rostam Piltan draws near,To bring us aid and strip away our fear.

Then our desire against Turan we shall claim,And toward the sun will rise Iran’s bright fame.”

They ceased to plan the night attack and fight;Both chief and army now grew glad and bright.

The watchman’s news made every spirit bold;Through all the ranks it passed from young to old.

Tus sent out scouts to watch the field of war;The mountain’s zang resounded with a roar.

The army sat bright-souled through all the night,And spoke of Pahlevans’ chief till morning light.

When sunlight ranged its ranks on heaven’s height,And blackness vanished with the routed night,

The Khan of Chin called Turan’s chieftains near,And spoke to wise Piran for all to hear:

“We will not fight today; let warriors rest;A day of ease will serve our army best.

Let proud chiefs and man-slaying riders stay,And cast their road-worn weariness away.

Through hill and dale they hastened on their course;Long roads have worn the rider and the horse.

Meanwhile I will view Iran upon the field,And learn what strength their gathered ranks may yield.”

Piran replied: “The Khan is wise and great,A worthy king whose counsel guards our state.

Whatever course today the Khan approves,We follow where his sovereign counsel moves.”

The koust and karnay raised a mighty sound,And tumult rolled throughout the guarded ground.

Five mighty elephants came on, whose freightWas seats of turquoise diba, rich and great.

With emeralds the royal seats were bright,And woven gold flashed richly in the light.

The saddle-flaps were made of leopard hide;Gold-silver zang rang brightly at their side.

The drivers’ heads were crowned in royal style;Their torques and earrings flashed across the file.

Parniyan standards crowded, spar on spar,Red, yellow, violet, as in Chin’s bazaar.

The army took the field as though a feastAwaited every warrior, great and least.

The earth shone varied as a rooster’s eye,With elephants and koust beneath the sky.

The kings set forth; the karnay’s piercing cryRose from the ranks and echoed, wild and high.

Bright spearheads flashed throughout the gathering might,And massed battalions turned the country night.

Tus saw from far and set his ranks for fray;Iran’s hard warriors readied for the day.

Then Giv brought forth the Kaviani sign;Iran’s brave warriors girded up the line.

From battlefield to mountain summit high,Iran stood troop on troop against the sky.

Kamus went forward, Manshur at his side,Biward, wise Shangul, and the Khan in pride.

They came to view Mount Hamavan that day,Not seeking battle or to force their way.

The Khan looked out and listened, and could hearIranian horsemen raise their battle-cheer.

It pleased him: “See the riders they display;The marks of courage shine in their array.

Piran described these warriors otherwise;A fighter’s worth should not be hid from eyes.

Who hides a pit beneath the thorny groundMay drive his own horse in and tumble down.

What profit lies in burying their fameBeneath the dust before we test the same?

No chiefs or warriors have met my sightSo marked by manly courage in the fight.”

Piran replied: “So few are hardly worthOur heed; they count for nothing on this earth.”

The Khan replied: “What shall we do today,Now that we stand upon the field’s array?”

Piran replied: “You crossed a weary plain,Through hill and dale and many roads of strain.

Stay here three days and let the army rest;Then I will split our force in halves as best.

When rest is done and battle’s hour draws near,Then comes the day of warfare, toil, and fear.

Half our glorious warriors shall wieldTheir arms from dawn till noon across the field.

With zhupin, sword, with bow and gorz prepared,They strike until the midday field is bared.

At noon the other half, when that watch ends,Shall fight until night on the hills descends.

At dark I will bring troops whose strength is new,And press the foe until the night is through.

We will not grant them one calm breath of peace,But harry them with riders without cease.”

Kamus replied: “This counsel is not right;I will have none of waiting for the fight.

With such an army, such a war today,Why should we linger here through long delay?

Let all our army strike with gathered might,And hem them through the valley and the height.

From here we march upon Iran’s royal seat;Its Shah and throne and crown shall know defeat.

We shall ravage all their country end to end,And wage a lion’s war they cannot fend.

No woman, child, no old or young survive,No Shah, kanarang, Pahlevan alive.

No land, no palace, no eyvan shall stand;No four-foot beast survive across the land.

Why should we bear so many evil days,And reap but needless grief from such delays?

But keep each road and pass closed one full night,Lest foes escape and vanish out of sight.

When dawn-wind rises, all our army’s mightShall move at once and gather for the fight.

Then Shangul, Hind’s great king, shall come with me;We will bear our standard toward the height we see.

Tomorrow Iran’s warriors shall be foundHeaped on the mountain in a single mound.

Then through Iran no sight shall meet their eyesBut mourning faces and lamenting cries.”

The Khan said: “No plan better can be made;None like Kamus can marshal an armed brigade.”

The famous chiefs agreed with his design,And followed Kamus, lion of the line.

They rose and parted when the counsel closed,And all night long their battle ranks composed.

When sun pitched yellow diba as its tent,Beneath the lapis dome its splendor went.

The lookout cried: “O Pahlevan, take heed!An army comes on in a swift stampede.

They are at hand; their dust has dimmed the day,And blackened all the sunlight on their way.”

Gudarz sprang up; they brought his swiftest bay;He mounted in a breath and rode away.

He rode toward that dark dust with wounded heart,And searched the road by which the troops would start.

He reached the van; amid the marching train,He saw Fariborz’s standard on the plain.

Fariborz, chosen leader of the band,The new Shah’s kinsman, rode at their command.

Old Gudarz then dismounted from his steed;Wise Fariborz dismounted with all speed.

The two embraced; Gudarz, with grief oppressed,Wept tears of blood upon the prince’s breast.

Fariborz said, “Old chief, still forced to wageRevenge for Siavash from age to age,

How dearly Siavash’s vengeance spent your line!Alas, Gudarzian horsemen, once so fine.

May glad news of them still return to you;May fortune turn, and make your foemen rue.

Praise be to Him who rules the sun and moon,That I have found you safe, a gracious boon.”

Gudarz wept blood for those beneath the clay,For sons and grandsons fallen in the fray.

He said, “See how ill fortune strikes my head;Each day new evil on my path is spread.

Few son or grandson now remain to fight;No troop, no standard, no tabira in sight.

That former battle now is cast away;This is the fight, the work we face today.

Their troops on plain and dale, in endless string,Have made the earth as black as raven’s wing.

Beside their force, the men that Tus can rank,Are one black hair upon a white bull’s flank.

From Chin, Saklab, Rum, and Hind they came,From ruined lands and settled fields the same.

No living soul seems left behind at home;All gird themselves against us where they roam.

But tell me where is Rostam, Iran’s stay?Till then my back stays bent beneath dismay.”

“He is behind me,” Fariborz replied,“Intent on war, and marching at full stride.

Through dark of night till dawn he drives the way,And never seeks a pause or brief delay.

Where shall I rest, and where shall I now flee,With this small, meager force that follows me?”

Gudarz replied, “What words did Rostam say?Conceal no part of what he bade today.”

The prince replied, “He bade us shun the fray;No warrior should now venture forth to slay.

‘Hold where you are and do not march ahead;Do not advance before the army’s tread.

Rest where you stand until my standard’s lightAppears afar and rises into sight.’”

Fariborz turned; Gudarz rode by his side,Toward Hamavan they swiftly took their ride.

The Turanian watchman saw the army near,Then hurried down to make the tidings clear.

“Prepare for battle,” he told old Piran,“For troops have crossed the field from far Iran.

An army comes; I cannot name its guide,Nor read the banners waving far and wide.”

Piran approached Chin’s mighty Khan and soughtHis counsel on the war that must be fought.

Kamus said, “Keep command of your own force;You have Afrasiab’s warriors and horse,

And troops that roll like waves across the plain,Yet five months’ war has brought no lasting gain.

Against so small a foe what have you done?Now earth is full of troops beneath the sun.

The Khan, Manshur, and I are here to fight;Now let our prowess prove its promised might.

Your caution locked the gate; we bring the key,And shall unleash the war you feared to see.

Though Chin’s silk covered all the world’s broad face,With Kabul, Zabul, Hind in every place,

Yet if I fought alone, Iran would beA name erased by warriors such as me.

None then would say Iranians still remain;Their name would vanish from the battle-plain.

You seek to frighten me with Rostam; knowI first will strike him down and lay him low.

If once I catch him in my battle snare,Then none will speak of Rostam anywhere.

You fear the army coming from Sistan;That thought has filled your heart with care, Piran.

But watch my hand when dust obscures the plain,And battle fills the earth with blood and pain.

Then you shall know who merits manhood’s right,Who counts as brave and knows the ways of fight.”

Piran replied, “Live long in royal grace;May evil’s hand be far from your high place.

Enough; may all you promise be fulfilled,And no man match you where the blood is spilled.”

The Khan said, “You have let Kamus attack;He speaks a word and never turns it back.

The mountains stand as allies at his gate,And elephants as comrades share his fate.

Do not dismay the troops with anxious cries;Iran’s men matter little in my eyes.

No noble in Iran shall stay alive;Through hill and vale my storming dust shall drive.

Those men of rank and standing I shall bind,And send to Afrasiab, chained behind.

The others who survive our conquering treadShall fall beneath the sword and lose the head.

No leaf upon a tree shall there remain;No tree shall stand throughout Iran’s domain.

No royal seat, no Shah shall there be known,No crown shall stand, no sovereign keep a throne.”

Piran bowed smiling to each chief and peer,And paid the Khan due homage, drawing near.

Then he returned rejoicing to the ground,Where gathered nobles pressed him all around.

Houman, Lahhak, and brave Farshidvard came,Great lions when the battlefield took flame.

“A force has now come from Iran,” they said,“Led by a sable banner at its head.

A noted scout went out and now returns;From what he brings, the camp with rumor burns.

They say it is Fariborz, Kavus’s son,A loyal warrior, noble, proven one.”

Piran replied, “Dismiss these cares today;If Rostam is not there, fear falls away.

We need not dread this prince from Kavus’s line;His breath can bring no cure for bane like mine.

Though Kamus counts great Rostam not a manOf weight in war before his fighting clan,

May Rostam never come upon this field,Though fierce Kamus, a nahang, will not yield.”

Houman replied: “Take heart, and shed no tear;No Rostam’s strength, no Sistan troops, appear.

This blood and dust are Fariborz’s own sign;No trace of Rostam comes along the line.”

Then Piran said: “I scorn both throne and state,And curse the sun and moon that shine so late.

When I had heard their army marched our way,To fight beneath Iran’s flag in array,

My mind grew dark; grief filled my heart and head,A cold, deep sigh rose from my breast and fled.”

Kulbad said, “Why this grief? What need of tearsFor Rostam, Tus, or these Iranian spears?

With troops and gorz and elephants arrayed,And scimitars, the wind itself is stayed.

Why fear Khosrow, Rostam or Tus today?Iran’s whole army is dust that blows away.

They fled dispersed and scattered from the plain,And straggled to their tents in broken train.”

Soon Tus was told: “The land with koust resounds;Great Rostam comes toward Hamavan’s bounds.

With Fariborz and troops from Iran’s side,The elephantine hero comes in stride.”

Tus ordered koust; the mountain turned to black,Like ebony beneath the dust-cloud’s track.

A shout rose high from Hamavan’s steep wall;The earth boiled under hoofbeats one and all.

Then Tus addressed the troops and spoke at lengthOf Rostam’s deeds, his battle-tested strength.

He told how in Mazandaran’s dread nightRostam had fought the Divs and won the fight.

The soldiers blessed the Pahlevan and prayed:“May wakeful heart and bright soul be your aid.

This happy news adorns the soul today;Its brightness drives our former grief away.

When peerless Rostam reaches this high field,Their line before that nahang now must yield.

Then on this mount we shall be free of shame,And cleanse the stain that darkened Iran’s name.

The Khan’s proud standard, golden shield, and crown,His ivory throne, shall fall and be cast down.

Their elephant-keepers’ crowns of gold we gain,With golden torques and girdles in our train.

Their golden zang and bells shall all be won,Unmatched in workmanship beneath the sun.

That jeweled parasol of peacock plumeAs captured spoil shall leave their ranks in gloom.

And more than these shall fall into our hand,If we stake life and fight them where they stand.”

Tus said, “We stand exposed to fear and blame;Our peril here may stain the Iranian name.

The mountain’s skirts are filled with hostile bands;Our nobles’ heads lie caught in danger’s hands.

When Rostam comes, he will not ask what passed,But turn reproach upon us hard and fast:

‘You were like birds entangled in a snare;Your work bore nothing, raw and ill-prepared.

The chief was still the same, the army too;Yet where were all the champions pressing through?’

So let us charge like lions on this side;Perhaps the foe may yet be turned aside.”

The troops replied: “Do not seek such display;Do not pursue this rash and reckless way.

Let no man leave the mountain for the plainUntil great Rostam has surveyed the train.

Stand firm before Yazdan, whose guiding handLeads every heart toward the good command.

By Him who holds the shining sun and moon,Tahamtan will arrive among us soon.

Do not make dark your star through needless fear;Give silver coins and gold to poor men here.”

A joyful shout rose from Hamavan’s crest;Glad voices passed through every fighting breast.

Then each returned contented to his place,And spent the night in rest and hopeful grace.

When Sol laid hand on Taurus in the sky,The larks began their carol, clear and high.

From fierce Kamus’s camp a shout began,The man-subduing chief who led the van.

He gathered troops and handed jowshans round;His heart was war, his boasts a tempest’s sound.

He changed his robe for jowshan, crown for helm,And breastplate took the tunic’s former realm.

He chose from steel-clad warriors, battle-tried,In iron panoply from side to side.

Their dust rose thick; no warrior saw the way,For swords and jowshans had obscured the day.

Then from Iran’s lookout there rose a cry:“A force has reached our side; their banners fly.

The Piltan’s standard rises into sight;Behind the troops it towers in the light.

Across the field Turanian forces spread;Their rising dust grew dark above each head.

Their leader rode, a mountain mass of stone;Earth shook beneath the pounding hooves alone.

His gorz-head matched a buffalo in girth;Behind rode troops; ahead, spears veiled the earth.

Behold the man, the massive gorz he bears;Amazement shone in every warrior’s stare.”

Tus sent the koust-roll roaring to the cloud;Its thunder shook the mountain, deep and loud.

The lookout’s cry made Tus’s spirit bright;His heart much rejoiced to hear the news right.

From Gudarz, Keshvad’s son, a rider spedTo Fariborz and gave the words he said:

“Turan has drawn its battle ranks nearby;Its ordered lines stand ready beneath the sky.

Our scattered force must not remain apart,Lest massed battalions break us at the start.

Act as your noble nature bids today;A Shah’s own son must never shrink away.

The dust of Rostam rises from the plain;He nears the field with all his battle-train.”

Then Fariborz with warriors joined the fray,With Tus and Giv upon that fateful day.

On Hamavan they set all the ranks right,And formed their battle order for the fight.

They raised the glorious flag; each wing was laid,The center, rear, and baggage-train arrayed.

The karnay blared; the gathered army pressed,Like starry heaven in its splendor dressed.

When fierce Kamus advanced to fight that day,He found no cause for pause or for delay.

His army rolled, a sea from height to height,A mountain torrent rushing to the fight.

The air grew indigo; earth fled from sight;He neared the mount beneath that shroud of night.

He turned toward Hamavan with smiling face,And gazed upon the warriors in that place.

Then mocked them: “Iran’s war brings coward’s fame;Come forth and prove what warrior earns the name.

A mighty army fills the open plain;No paltry force has gathered in this train.

Not Houman’s force, nor Piran’s, matches mine;What champion could you send to hold the line?”

Then shouting toward Mount Hamavan, he cried:“You lion-men who stand on battle’s side,

Behold my breast, my stature, and my hand,This sword and gorz that answer my command.”

Then Giv flared up in rage; he swiftly bracedAnd drew the sword that hung beside his waist.

But when he neared Kamus, that massive frame,He thought, “A raging elephant could match the same.”

He strung his bow and called on God Most High,The giver of good gifts beneath the sky.

He loosed his arrows like a springtime rain,And struck at fierce Kamus across the plain.

Kamus, who marked Giv’s mastery, bent low,And raised his shield to ward each arrow’s blow.

Then spear in hand he rushed like wolf to prey,And bore upon brave Giv without delay.

The air was filled with dust above the plain;The earth beneath their horses filled with slain.

He reached brave Giv and struck him at the waist,His spear driven hard as through the field he raced.

Giv reeled within his saddle at the thrust;The spear drew free as Kamus wheeled in dust.

Kamus drew sword and roared his name aloud,Then grimly charged through dust before the crowd.

He struck Giv’s spear and sheared the shaft in two,As scribes trim reeds for pens and cut them through.

Tus watched from center, grieving at the sight,As Giv and fierce Kamus maintained the fight.

He thought, “Brave Giv cannot withstand this man;Against such strength he does the best he can.

No spearman but myself can face that chief.”He left the center roaring, to Giv’s relief.

Kamus wheeled sharply through the battle’s course,And with his sword struck Tus’s charging horse.

Tus’s face turned ebony; his horse went down,But Tus rose roaring, lion of renown.

On foot, with spear in hand, Tus fought his foe,Before both armies watching from below.

Against a single foe, two warriors go,Yet Kashan’s chief still hungered for the blow.

The tumult held until the sun’s bright rayGrew dark and vanished from the field that day.

The battlefield turned ebony with night;They drew apart and ceased the bitter fight.

One army sought the plain as darkness grew,The other up the mountain slopes withdrew.

When heaven showed no trace of sun or moon,The scouts of both camps crept like shadows strewn.

The watcher from the lookout cried aloud:“The plain is filled with dust beneath the cloud.

Both level ground and upland ring with cries;Among the troops, many bright watchfires rise.

In truth, the elephantine chief has neared,With Zabul’s rushing warriors, all appeared.”

Gudarz, on hearing, hurried through the night,And climbed down from the rocks with urgent flight.

The dragon-standard glowed in fading light,While earth beneath lay violet-dark from sight.

When Gudarz saw Tahamtan’s face appear,His own face vanished underneath his tears.

Gudarz dismounted; Rostam at his sideLeapt from his saddle with a wind-like stride.

The two embraced; a bitter cry aroseFor Gudarzian chiefs struck down by foes.

They wept for gains that ended all in loss,For hopes the battle swept away like dross.

Gudarz then said, “O Pahlevan, bright soul,By you Iran’s own crown and throne stay whole.

Each word you speak is faithful, firm, and true;Iran finds father, mother, all in you.

Beyond all treasure, throne, or gems in view,No wealth in Iran can surpass your due.

Without you, fish cast helpless on dry land,Our heads are stone, our bodies under sand.

When I once more beheld your noble face,Your warm inquiry made my grief give place.

I ceased to mourn for dear ones lost from sight;Through your good fortune, smiles replaced my plight.”

Then Rostam answered, “Let your heart be bright;Guard well your noble self with all your might.

The world is toil and treachery at the core;It shows its wealth, then offers nothing more.

One man is rich, another poor and low;One honored, one despised, yet all must go.

There is no cure; no grief that I can nameIs worse than death or deeper in its flame.

May that dark sorrow never strike your head;May we in battle join the honored dead.”

When Tus and Giv and all those warriors knewThat Rostam came, the joyful rumor flew.

They heard he reached Mount Hamavan at last,And old Gudarz had seen him as he passed.

They went like wind; the shouts and karnay rose,And through the dark they hurried where he goes.

Tahamtan’s standard rose within the night;The army reached him by its guiding sight.

The chiefs and soldiers all dismounted, girtWith belts, their hearts relieved of care and hurt.

They cried in anguish for the warriors slainAmid the dust and fury of the plain.

Rostam was moved; he bound his war-belt tight,And set his heart on vengeance and the fight.

He heard what griefs had touched that hard campaign,And mourned the troops that suffered toil and pain.

He counseled them: “O chiefs, today we faceA grave and heavy battle in this place.

Such is war’s end: for one a feast is spread;For one, a funeral among the dead.”

That warrior, that luster of the land,Set up his camp-enclosure where he planned.

Nimruz’s forces camped behind their lord;Upon the height his lofty standard soared.

Great Rostam sat upon a royal seat,The chiefs assembled round him at his feet.

Gudarz and Giv sat near him, Tus in sight,Before the lord of war one lamp burned bright.

He spoke at length of what they saw befall,Of how the chiefs and troops had faced it all,

And whether sun and moon would aid them still,Or fortune turn against the warriors’ will.

The chiefs described the number of their foes,And how that throng across the valley rose.

They spoke of fierce Kamus and Chin’s high lord,Manshur, Shangul, and all their warrior horde.

“Of great Kamus himself much may be said;We saw him clearly where the battle spread.

He is a tree whose fruit is gorz and blade;Though clouds rain stones, he does not stand afraid.

He would not flee from elephants of war;His heart seeks strife, his head seeks vengeance more.

Earth scarcely holds Manshur beneath its sky;No chief commands such armies low or high.

From Hamavan as far as Shahd’s broad strandStretch standards, elephants, mahd, and fighting band.

No count can tell the helms and jowshan bright;Grim faces fill the plain from left to right.

The plain is filled with tents from end to end;Chinese diba encloses every bend.

Had you not come with all your valiant band,All would have fallen, ruined in this land.

Praise to Yazdan of victory, whose nameHas ended grief and turned aside our shame.

Beyond all doubt, through you we live again;Before you came, no respite reached our men.”

Rostam awhile grieved for the warriors slain,And wept, his darkened heart consumed by pain.

He said, “Look down from where the moon rides high,Upon the somber earth beneath the sky.

All here is anguish, labor, grief, and care;Such is the stop that we as pilgrims share.

Such is the custom of the circling sphere:Now strife and poison, now sweet love and cheer.

By nature or by violence we die;No profit lies in asking how or why.

When time is done, all men must leave this ground;Blame not the turning heavens wheeling round.

May God, who conquers all, now give us aid,And cast our foemen’s fortune into shade.

From this day on, our vengeance we shall take,And clear the world of foemen in our wake.”

The mighty chiefs praised him: “Live famed and bright,With seal and crown and sword in royal might.

May Kay Khosrow’s great court through all your daysNever be robbed of you, its strength and praise.”

When over the hills the world-illumer shone,And dawn seized night’s dark tresses as its own,

It cast away the pitch-black robes of dread,And bit the moon’s pale lips until they bled,

From every camp the tabira thundered round,And warriors issued at the battle-sound.

Houman the chief went forth to scan each side,And thought what aid the Iranians might hide.

“What force has come with tents across the plain,Pavilions, camp-walls, standards in its train?”

He saw a turquoise tent of diba made,With many attendants round its brocade shade.

Before it stood a chief’s bright flag and spear;He thought that Fortune now had shifted here.

He saw another army’s camp nearby,Its moon-bright standards gleaming in the sky.

There Fariborz, the son of Kavus, stayedNear Tus, with elephants and koust arrayed.

Houman went troubled to Piran and said,“Today will bring us bitter toil and dread.

The Iranian clamor through the night was high,And louder than before it struck the sky.

So I rode out alone at break of day,And scanned the foe’s encampments in array.

A mighty force from Iran has drawn near,To aid their army in the battle here.

One green diba pavilion faced the field;A dragon-standard rose beside its shield.

Around it Zabul shield-men formed in rings,With Kabul blades prepared for warlike things.

I think that Rostam, by the Shah’s command,Has come with fresh support to this dark land.”

Piran replied, “An evil hour is near;If Rostam joins this fight, our doom is clear.

No Khan, Kamus, nor Shangul will remain,Nor Turan’s warriors standing on the plain.”

He left the camp and went to view the foe,And saw Iran’s arrayed battalions grow.

Then back to fierce Kamus in haste he came,To Manshur, Fartus, chiefs of warlike name.

He said, “At dawn I rode beyond our line,And viewed the troops beneath Iran’s bright sign.

Great reinforcements have arrived today,With many chiefs prepared to join the fray.

I think the elephantine Rostam too,Whom I described before the chiefs to you,

Has come with vengeance, eager for the war,Sent by the Shah to reinforce their corps.”

Kamus said, “Wise one, all your words ariseFrom dark forebodings and unhappy surmise.

Know this: Kay Khosrow comes to war as chief;But do not wound your spirit now with grief.

Why speak so much of Rostam? What is he?Why speak of Zabulistan endlessly?

If he beholds me with my flag in hand,His heart will mourn when we in battle stand.

Go now, array the line, lead forth the men,And bring the standards to the field again.

When I go forth with warriors in my train,Let none grow slack or linger on the plain.

Now you shall see how warriors wage the fight;Blood like a sea shall drown the plain from sight.”

The Pahlevan rejoiced; his fear grew light,And ceased to fret at Rostam’s dreaded might.

He came away rejoicing, free of fear,And bathed his soul in valor’s current clear.

He armed the troops in helmets, jowshan bright,And kept Kamus’s counsel fixed in sight.

Then to the Khan he went and kissed the ground,And spoke before the monarch, glory-crowned:

“O Shah, live long; may wisdom ever feedUpon your thought and guide each royal deed.

You crossed a road of hardship, long and sore;You left the feast and purchased toil of war.

For Afrasiab’s sake you crossed the sea;By ship you came to share this war with me.

Our soldiers’ backs stand straight because of you;Now let your native valor guide you through.

Deck elephants with zang and daray bright;Let karnay thunder through the world with might.

Today I lead the charge into the war;Remain amid the army’s guarded core.

Stay with the elephants where koust resound;Guard well my rear when battle closes round.

Help raise my helmet to the clouds today;Kamus commanded me to lead the way.”

Then Kamus raised his gorz and swore aloud,His oath rose like the thunder through a cloud:

“With this great gorz alone I enter now;Though stones from heaven rain upon my brow.”

The Khan then bade the karnay cry on high;The dust seemed born with feet beneath the sky.

The tabira shook earth and sky around,And war arose beneath their rolling sound.

A mahd was fastened on an elephant’s frame;Beneath its tread the earth indigo became.

The Khan moved centerward; the dust rose high,And made a dark cloud of the wheeling sky.

The zang and Indian daray rang around;Men’s hearts rose to their mouths before the sound.

On elephant-backs, turquoise thrones gleamed bright,Above the flags, like seas of sapphire light.

They stole the light from every watching eye;Men scarcely knew their souls beneath the sky.

Dust filled heaven’s eye, choked its throat on high;Its pitch-smeared face let no bright star pass by.

When to the center of the line he came,The moon itself went wandering from its frame.

The right, led by Kamus, like mountains spread;The baggage to the open plain was led.

Piran moved toward the left wing of the war;Houman and Kulbad followed to the fore.

When Rostam saw the Khan’s array advance,He formed his center, set in battle stance.

He bade Tus sound the koust and form the line,A rooster’s eye in colors, bright and fine.

He said, “Now we see whom heaven makes great,And how the turning sky determines fate.

We shall learn whose appointed time is done,And whom the heavens raise beneath the sun.

I did not wait; Rakhsh made three stages one,And drove the road while morning had begun.

His hooves are battered; long roads wore him sore,And toil has drained the strength he held before.

I dare not tax him now in single fight,Or drive him forth to prove his weary might.

Come lend me now your courage and your aid,And let your vengeance in this fight be paid.”

Then Tus bade ney and bronze khom sound on high;The gavdam joined the army’s battle-cry.

Gudarz arrayed the right with battle-skill,And sent the baggage up the mountain hill.

Fariborz set the left; the standards whirled,Until the whole earth seemed a reed-filled world.

At center stood brave Tus, proud Nohzar’s son;The earth was dust beneath the rising sun.

The air was storm; the world was lost from sight;No warrior saw himself amid the fight.

Then mighty Rostam climbed the mountain’s brow,To view Turan’s vast army gathered now.

He saw a force so vast beneath the skyThe Sea of Rum seemed but a lump of wax nearby.

From Kashan, Shakn, and Wahr their armies came,From Chaghan, Chin, Saklab, and Hind by name.

From Gahan, Rum, and Sind to Indus strand,With varied jowshan, helms from every land.

Strange tongues from every quarter filled the air,With foreign standards and exotic fare.

Elephants bore ivory thrones arrayed,Crowns, armlets, torques, tiaras, all displayed.

The world became a Paradise in sight;Beside its splendor beauty lost its light.

He stood astonished on the mountain’s brow,And pondered heaven’s turning purpose now.

“When will the sky reward the wars we wage?What jest will ancient heaven play this age?”

He climbed back down, his fearless courage stayed,Nor passed beyond the chief or line arrayed.

He said, “Since first I girded up for war,No single place has held me one year more.

I have seen great armies gathered far and wide,But none so vast as this on any side.”

He bade the koust advance; the lines obeyed,And Tus moved down where battle was arrayed.

Then Tus, their chief, descended for the fray,And marched from mountain heights to fight that day.

He came for vengeance, burning for the foe,His spear made ready to lay hundreds low.

Till noon they marched, a two-farsang-long line;Their dust obscured the sun and dimmed its shine.

The sun could scarcely tell the night from day;The air grew dark with spears in close array.

With pikan thick, the heavens lost their light;The sun itself stood bewildered at the sight.

The din of horses, riders rose so farIt passed beyond both Saturn and red Mars.

The blows of axes rang through crag and sky;Even flint rock seemed to take wings and fly.

The swords and warriors’ forearms, stained with blood,Shone ruby-red amid the battle’s flood.

The earth groaned underneath the horses’ tread;The coward’s heart fled from his breast in dread.

The brave made khaftan, jowshan into shrouds,Prepared for death beneath the iron clouds.

Then fierce Kamus declared: “If heaven todayMust be our road, we walk its upward way.

Bring sword and gorz and kamand to the fight;Hem in Iran and bind them in our might.

The warrior’s heart must live within the fray;Else under stones his covered head shall stay.”

A warrior named Ashkabus came forth,His koust-like voice rolled thunder south and north.

He challenged all the Iranians to fray,Intent to cast a foeman’s head in clay.

He cried, “Which famous man will meet me here,And let his blood run red beneath my spear?”

Rohham heard and raised then his battle-cry,Then stormed like waves whose crests assault the sky.

He raised his bow, the horseman’s ambush tried,And sent a storm of arrows at his side.

He showered shafts upon that famous chief,But steel enclosed him, hard beyond belief.

His arrows swept like wind across the khaftan;Then Rohham raised his gorz against the man.

The arms of both grew weary in the fight;Rohham’s gorz could not break his helmet’s might.

Then Ashkabus raised iron gorz on high;Earth turned to iron, ebony the sky.

He dealt Rohham’s helmet a crushing stroke;Across the field it rang; the iron broke.

Defeated, Rohham wheeled away in flight,And spurred his horse back toward the mountain height.

Tus at the center saw this, hot with wrath,And spurred to meet Ashkabus on the path.

But Rostam cried in anger and disdain,“Rohham is fit for wine, not battle’s strain.

He plays with swords when wine has warmed his head,Then boasts before the brave of blood he shed.

Why has Rohham’s face turned sandarac-red?Was Ashkabus the better horseman bred?

Stay at the army’s heart and hold your place;On foot I shall confront him face to face.”

He set his bow upon his arm for war,And girded several arrows, three or four.

He cried, “Warrior, do not turn and flee;Your adversary has come; now face me.”

The Kashanian laughed to see him dare,Then checked his steed and fixed him with a stare.

Still laughing, he called out, “What is your name?Who mourns you when your severed head brings shame?”

The peerless Rostam answered, “Luckless foe,Why ask my name? No joy from it will grow.

My mother named me death to men like you;Fate made me hammer, and your helm my due.”

The Kashanian said, “You have no horse;You give yourself to slaughter in due course.”

Then Rostam said, “You senseless man of war,Have footmen never felled proud chiefs before?

Have footmen never laid proud heads in stone,And cast great mounted warriors overthrown?

Do lions, nahangs, leopards mount a steed,When they confront their foes in hour of need?

Now I, though standing here upon my feet,Will teach a mounted warrior how to meet.

Tus sent me forth on foot for one design:To take your horse and make that charger mine.

Then you, like me, shall walk across the plain,While both great armies laugh to see your rein.

One man on foot is worth upon this fieldThree hundred riders armed with sword and shield.”

Ashkabus laughed: “What weapons have you brought?I see but jest and mockery in your thought.”

Then Rostam said, “Look well upon my bow;These arrows tell you when your time runs low.”

He saw Ashkabus glory in his steed,Then bent his bow to answer pride with deed.

He shot an arrow at the charger’s breast;The horse fell headlong, stripped of pride and rest.

Rostam laughed and cried, “Sit by your friend;Nurse his head awhile and let your combat end.

Rest from the fight beside your noble steed;Attend your fallen comrade in his need.”

Then Ashkabus, his quivering body strained,His face like sandarac, his bow he gained.

He strung his bow and loosed a furious rain;But Rostam cried, “Your arrows fall in vain.

You waste your spirit, arms, and body too;This useless toil brings no reward to you.”

He reached toward his belt and chose with careA poplar shaft, straight-flying through the air.

Four eagle feathers balanced it for flight;Its polished arrowhead flashed clear and bright.

He took the bow of Chakh within his hand,And set his thumbstall to the deer-hide strand.

His left arm straight, his right drew back with might;The bow of Chakh cried out, its string drawn tight.

The nock drew backward till it reached his ear;The deer-hide string rang sharp and strong and clear.

The arrow-point drew close beside his hand;The bow bent fully under his command.

He loosed; it struck Ashkabus in the breast;The sky kissed Rostam’s hand and called him blessed.

Qazā cried, “Take!” and Qadar answered, “Give!”Falak cried, “Well struck!” and the Moon cried, “Live!”

The Kashanian died upon the plain,As though his mother bore her son in vain.

Both armies watched the champions where they fought,And stared at all the havoc Rostam wrought.

The Khan and fierce Kamus surveyed his frame,His height, his strength, his fury and his fame.

When Rostam had withdrawn across the plain,The Khan sent out a rider to the slain.

The rider drew the shaft from where it lay,Blood-darkened to the feathers all the way.

They passed the shaft throughout the gathered band;All thought a spear had rested in his hand.

The young Khan saw its feathers and its head;His youthful heart grew old with sudden dread.

He said to wise Piran, “What is his name?Who is this man among Iran’s men of fame?

You called them but a remnant, weak and small,Unfit to stand with warriors at all.

Yet spear-like arrows rest in every hand;A mountain’s heart would shrink before that band.

You made the matter small in what you said,But falsehood filled the tale that you had spread.”

Piran replied, “I know none in that throngOf such a rank, such stature, arm so strong.

There is no man whose shaft could pierce a tree;What purpose fills his heart is dark to me.

The men I know with farr and mighty frameAre Tus and Giv, both mighty men of fame.

When brave Tus met my brother Houman’s spear,The whole world turned to ebony with fear.

I do not know this man, nor who may standAs match for such a warrior in their band.

I will search each parda-saray, and seeWhat name this warrior bears, who he may be.”

Piran came pale, his heart with sorrow bowed,And questioned all the chieftains in the crowd.

Then Houman said, “The wise will never slightAn enemy who stands prepared to fight.

Iran’s proud nobles now seem strong enoughTo break through iron, resolute and tough.

Since fresh support from Iran reached their side,Their battle-cries have sounded far and wide.”

Piran replied: “Whoever comes allied,We need not fear the strength he may provide.

If Rostam stays away, I have no fear;Let Rohham or Gorgin themselves appear.

Save Tus, no chief among them wins renown;Gorgin and Fariborz Kamus cannot down.

Each soldier of our line, before this fight,Will seek his own renown with all his might.”

He rushed to fierce Kamus with grief laid bare,To tell Manshur and Fartus, and to share:

“Today a mighty battle shook the plain;A wolf broke loose no shepherd could restrain.

Find now a cure for wounds that bring us pain,And learn whose hand has struck our warrior train.”

Kamus replied, “Today our honored nameWas overturned, and glory changed to shame.

Ashkabus lies dead upon the ground,While Tus and Giv rejoice with cries around.

My heart was torn to see this man attack;Our troops, in panic and despair, fell back.

He is the tallest man on earth in sight;No warrior in our camp can match his might.

You saw his bow; the shaft lies here to see;No savage lion has such strength as he.

He surely is that warrior you have named,The Sagzi, whose might you have long proclaimed.

He came afoot upon the battlefield,To aid Iran and make our warriors yield.”

Piran replied, “This is not Rostam, I say;He is an exalted horseman in the fray.”

Kamus, intent and wary, then began:“Tell me once more about that lion-man.

How does he move when he comes forth to fight?What is his bearing when he shows his might?

What signs reveal his strength, his build, his frame?What words to chiefs in battle does he proclaim?

What kind of man is he upon the field?How could I face the power that he can wield?

If this is he who now has joined the fray,I will go out myself to fight today.”

Piran replied, “May heaven bar his course,And turn away his purpose and his force.

You would behold a hero, tall and fair,A cypress crowned with farr, and beauty rare.

Afrasiab has turned from him in tearsOn many fields, through many bitter years.

To Khosrow loyal, battle is his trade;His hand is first to bare the fighting blade.

For Siavash, the prince he reared and trained,He seeks revenge on those whose hands are stained.

No warrior can wield the arms he bears;The strongest fail beneath the weight he wears.

When he girds up, a savage lion’s mightSeems gathered in his body for the fight.

If from his hand the heavy gorz should fall,No nahang could lift its weight at all.

His bowstring, lion-hide, is drawn up taut;Ten sitir weighs each shaft and pikan wrought.

Before his arm, hard flint itself turns slack;It melts like wax beneath his fierce attack.

When he goes forth to fight where foes assail,He fastens jowshan for the iron hail.

Over all this he wears a leopard-skin,Babr-e Bayan, the garb he battles in.

Above both khaftan and jowshan is its worth;No other armor equals it on earth.

No fire can burn it, water leaves it dry;When clad in it, he seems to rise and fly.

The steed he rides seems Bistoon on the plain,A moving mountain when he takes the rein.

His hooves strike dust and stone till sparks arise;His battle-neighing rings beneath the skies.

Yet after all these marvels, in your sightPerhaps he scarcely counts as man in fight.

No wonder every chief esteems your frame;Such shoulders, neck, and arms uphold your fame.”

The watchful Lord Kamus gave ear and eye,And listened close to all Piran’s reply.

Piran’s words pleased him; all his ardor blazed,His heart took fire beneath the words of praise.

He said, “O Pahlevan, be shrewd of heart;Let brightness of the mind guide every part.

Name any oath that noble kings may swear,Whose wakeful fortunes guard them from despair.

I swear a greater oath to you today,And turn your wounded heart from grief away.

By Yazdan, whose command upholds the sun,My bay shall bear its saddle till this task is done;

Till I have made your grieving spirit bright,And narrowed all their world to needle’s sight.”

Piran called blessings down on him and said,“O shrewd king, truth and wisdom crown your head.

In all our affairs we follow what you will;Of all this war, but little battle waits us still.”

Piran went through the army, tent by tent,Through every camp-enclosure as he went.

He told the Khan and chiefs on his returnOf all that passed and all he came to learn.

When setting sun had cast a ruby glow,And dark night crossed the sky with silent flow,

Turan’s armed men assembled in array,Wise in their counsel, proven in the fray.

They reached the Khan’s pavilion in the night,Their hearts set hard on blood, revenge, and fight.

Kamus, the lion-heart who felled men, came,With warlike Manshur, high in battle’s fame;

Shamiran of Shakn, Shangul of Hind,Kundur of Saklab, and the king of Sind.

They took long counsel over war that night,And spoke of Iran, vengeance, blood, and fight.

At last they settled what the fight demands:The time had come for blood to wash their hands.

Then to their tents they went to take their ease,And slept, each free to rest as he might please.

When moon’s thin back bent in the midnight air,Against the darkness of night’s pitch-black hair,

And in the sun’s great presence took her place,She rose with watery cheeks and washed her face.

The soldiers of both armies raised a cry;Their tumult mounted to the lofty sky.

The Khan of Chin exclaimed: “No more delay;We must not linger as we did yesterday.

Think of Piran as absent from the fray;Must we depend on him to fight today?

We all have come to join this clash of might;We marched a long way here to aid the fight.

If we delay as yesterday, the shameWill bury all the honor of our name.

Next day, Afrasiab will praise our deeds,And rest and sleep will come as toil recedes.

Attack in force; advance like mountains thenAgainst Iran and all its fighting men.

The nobles of ten provinces are here;We must not sleep or feast; our task is clear.”

The mighty rose from every side to speak,And stood before the Khan, his will to seek.

“Today the army answers to your hand;Both Chin and Turan stand at your command.

Now mark how scimitars from clouds shall rain,And darkened heavens pour steel on the plain.”

Then Rostam to Iran’s warriors declared:“The time has come; for battle be prepared.

If some were slain, count well the loss we bore:One in two or three hundred, and no more.

Do not let grief constrict your hearts with pain;I will not live if honor bears a stain.

With faces ebony-dark, Turan withdrew,When Ashkabus was slain before their view.

Now fill your hearts with vengeance, warriors all;And knit your brows to answer battle’s call.

Today I shoe brave Rakhsh and ride to fight;With blood my sword-tip will shine ruby-bright.

Make ready; here a new day has its birth,And Kay Khosrow’s treasury is all the earth.

Arm for the strife; win crowns and earrings fair,The spoils of this day’s battle as your share.

From me take purses, gifts from Zabul’s store,And Kabul’s gifts shall swell your bounty more.”

The mighty blessed him: “Through you may the crownAnd signet gain in splendor and renown.”

He donned his armor and, with haughty stride,Went forth to meet the battle’s rising tide.

Beneath, a jowshan on his body lay,While Babr-e Bayan clothed the whole array.

He set his precious helm upon his head;His foes remembered death with rising dread.

By God’s command, he girded for the fight,On Rakhsh he sat with raging tusker’s might.

The heavens marveled at his towering height;Earth darkened under Rakhsh’s hooves at the sight.

Tabiras, karnays rose from either line;No room remained for spells or dark design.

The mountains shook; the plains were split with sound,And trampling horses troubled all the ground.

Kamus held Turan’s right; behind him layThe elephants and baggage in array.

The lord of Hind stood mailed upon the left,A Roman sword in hand, for slaughter deft.

The Khan of Chin stood center; sky was furled,And hoofbeats shook the darkened, trembling world.

Fariborz, like the sun in Aries’ light,Commanded Iran’s left wing in the fight.

Brave Gudarz, Keshvad’s son, in steel arrayed,Held Iran’s right, with steel on shoulders laid.

At center Tus, son of Nohzar, was found,With koust and karnay ranged before him round.

From water rose the smoke of fire; it seemedA battle such as warriors never dreamed.

From every quarter rose the soldiers’ cry,That tore the ears of elephants nearby.

The first who rode between the ranks bore redFoam on his lips, with blood his liver shed.

It was Kamus, with soldiers at his side,With elephants, tabiras, martial pride.

He bore an ox-head gorz within his hand,And roared, a raging elephant, his demand:

“Where is that footman who would seek the fray,And challenge famous warriors here today?

Let him come forth and see my bow in strife,And arrows that shall cost him blood and life.”

Brave Tus, Rohham, and Giv beheld the sight,Yet none stepped forth against his towering might.

The field stood void of Iranian chiefs that day;None wished to meet him in the open fray.

He seemed a leopard, they a herd of deer;No warrior had the strength to venture near.

One warrior from Zabul drew his blade;Alva, by name, stepped forward, not afraid.

Through toil he learned to guide the bridle rein,And wield sword, gorz, and spear upon the plain.

Through liver-burning toil and hardship’s flame,From Rostam all his skill in battle came.

He bore the spear and guarded Rostam’s back,And let no foe slip past him to attack.

What did that eloquent old sage advise?Hear what he said, and keep his counsel wise:

“Do not let pride in prowess fill your head.Look well beneath your feet at where you tread.

To pit a brook against the ocean’s tideIs madness born of arrogance and pride.”

Alva advanced, intent upon the fray,And sought to meet Kamus in arms that day.

An ample space was cleared, and toward his preyKamus came wolf-like, fierce in war’s array.

One spear-stroke plucked him lightly from his seat,And flung him to the earth at Kamus’s feet.

He checked his reins and trampled him, till redAs rubies turned the ground where Alva bled.

The peerless Rostam mourned for Alva slain,And loosed his twisted kamand in his pain.

Kamand on arm and heavy gorz in hand,He roared, a mad elephant, through the land.

Kamus said, “Do not boast about that thread,Though sixty coils around your arm are spread.”

“The lion roars,” said Rostam, “when his eyesHave caught the game that near his pathway lies.

You were the first to gird yourself for fight,And slew Iran’s own noble man of might.

You call my kamand thread; now learn its hold,How tight its knotted coils can grip and fold.

Your fate now drives you, man of Kashan’s line;The dust shall be your bed by fate’s design.”

Kamus the brave spurred on his battle steed,And charged at Rostam with a warrior’s speed.

He swung his glittering sword with all his might,To sever Rostam’s head there in the fight.

The sword struck Rakhsh upon the neck and toreHis bargostvan, the battle-coat he wore.

Yet Rakhsh was safe and whole beneath the blow;The hero coiled his kamand for the throw.

He cast the kamand round the Kashan lord;Then spurred the raging Rakhsh and drew the cord.

He pinned the rawhide firmly with his thigh;Rakhsh seemed an eagle winging through the sky.

Kamus, still fearless, gripped his steed with force,Pressed hard the stirrups and gave rein to horse.

He strained to break the twisted rawhide thong,And tear its coils apart, so taut and strong.

Kamus grew frantic; still the rawhide held.Rostam reined Rakhsh in, his wild rush quelled.

He wheeled his mount and pulled the cord around,And jerked Kamus headforemost to the ground.

He bound Kamus within the kamand’s bands,And said, “You pose no danger in these strands.

Your charms and spells have lost their former sway;Your soul now serves the Div and takes his pay.”

He bound the prisoner’s hands behind his back,As firm as stone upon a mountain track.

He grasped the coils and bore him to the band,On foot, beneath his arm, across the land.

He told the warriors, “This lover of the frayPresumed to match my strength in war today.

This world deceives: its joy and grief abound;Now in the clouds we stand, now on the ground.

This famous warrior, who on many a fieldHad strength to force a male lion to yield,

Set forth to ravage Iran’s fields and glens,And turn our fertile country into lions’ dens.

He meant to leave no palace, no rose-bowerIn Kabul or Zabul beneath his power.

He would not set his mighty gorz asideTill Rostam, son of Zal, himself had died.

His helm and jowshan are his shroud instead;Dust clothes his body, crowns his fallen head.

Now tell me how this captive chief should die,Since all his former glory has passed by.”

Then Rostam flung Kamus upon the ground;The warriors left their ranks and gathered round.

Their swords cut flesh; blood drenched the stones and plain;So heaven turns from happiness to pain.

All life is toil and anguish, grief and care;Your courage cannot change the load you bear.

The body bends beneath the guilt it feels;The spirit dwells where grief its shadow steals;