Gudarz Mourns His Sons by Night

From B13.11, The Retreat to Mount Hamavan. It illustrates B13.11.11–17:

B13.11.11
All night they raised their wounded, sunk in grief;The wounded foe they left without relief.
B13.11.12
With fire they seared the wounds their comrades bore,Then bound and stitched the flesh that gaped and tore.
B13.11.13
Of Gudarz’s line, full many wounded lay,Some fell; some, bound as captives, went away.
B13.11.14
At this dark news he raised a bitter cry,The earth boiled where the horses thundered by.
B13.11.15
The chiefs all tore their clothes in bitter pain;He poured dark dust upon his head like rain.
B13.11.16
He cried: “No white-haired man has ever knownSuch grief as mine, such ruin of his own.
B13.11.17
Why must I still survive with silver hair,When many sons lie slaughtered in despair?