Pahlevan · son of Giv

Bijanبیژن

bee-ZHAN

Son of Giv and grandson of Gudarz, a young champion; Rostam frees him from Afrasiab's pit, and he later perishes in the snow after Kay Khosrow vanishes.

His story: From B10.16, Giv Seeks Kay Khosrow in Turan, to C4.63, The Pahlevans Are Lost in the Snow
Named: 311 times, in 85 dastans
Parents: Banu Gashasp, Giv
Spouses: Manijeh
Children: Shiruya, Ardeshir
Plates: Vol I: VII, Vol I: VIII, Vol II: III, Vol II: IV, Vol II: V

Genealogical plate: The House of Sahm — Volume I, Plate VII: The House of Sahm. Tap to open the genealogies.

His story, in the poem’s own sections

10 sections, with the summary from the Notes. Open any one to read it in full here; tap a couplet number to cite it or suggest a better one.

B12.10

Giv Battles Forood

Giv climbs the mountain, and Forood kills his horse. When Bijan mocks his father, Giv strikes him with his whip. Bijan swears revenge, borrows a horse from Gostaham, and rides up in Siavash’s mail, which Giv sends him.

64 couplets · Bijan named 9 times · in the full poem

Giv armed himself in hurried wrath and pride,And climbed the mountain up its rocky side.

Like a wild ram that vaults through broken stone,He came before young Forood all alone.

At sight of Giv, Forood a cold sigh drew,Then turned to Tokhvar, asking what he knew:

“These warriors cannot tell descent from rise;The road of war lies hidden from their eyes.

Each warrior braver than the last appears,Their forms shine like the sun through battle-spears.

Yet wisdom fails the chief who holds command;A witless head leaves but a corpse to stand.

I think their vengeance now shall fail outrightUnless Khosrow himself comes forth to fight.

Then side by side we may avenge our sire,And turn on Turan all our kindled fire.

But tell me now what noble horseman nears,Whose hand and sword give warriors cause for tears.”

Then Tokhvar cast his gaze across the plain,And answered him in measured, somber strain:

“That raging dragon sweeps across the field;Birds fall before his breath, their flight is sealed.

He bound your grandfather Piran in chains,And smashed two Turanian forces on the plains.

Full many children has he fatherless left,Through mount and stream and wilderness he cleft.

Full many fathers mourn the sons he slew,And lion-necks beneath his charger knew.

It was this warrior brought your brother home,Across the Jihun where no boat could roam.

Men call him Giv; when battle ranks draw near,An elephant, a Nile in flood, men fear.

When you secure the thumbstall on your hand,Your arrow cannot pierce his iron band.

He wears Siavash’s jowshan in the fight;Your arrowhead will strike but fail to bite.

So turn your arrow toward his charging steed;Against the horse your shaft may well succeed.

Then Giv may stagger backward from the fray,Shield at his neck, on foot like Tus that day.”

Young Forood strung his bow and held it calm,Then rubbed its rounded grip within his palm.

He loosed the shaft and struck brave Giv’s great horseFull in the breast with overwhelming force.

Giv tumbled down and hastened from the fight;Then laughter rose from Sepid Kooh’s height.

Giv’s spirit shrank beneath the mocking cries,Yet all the chiefs approached with grave replies:

“All praise to Yazdan! You are safe and sound;Your horse is wounded, but you stay unbound.”

Then Bijan hurried to his father’s side,And spoke rash words in wounded, angry pride:

“My father, great lion-queller famed for might,Whose strength can turn war elephants in flight!

Why should one mounted youth behold your back?Your hand once formed war’s soul in each attack.

A Turanian youth unhorsed you with one shot,Like a drunkard, you abandoned the spot!”

Then Giv replied: “The instant fell my steed,I should have died as honor’s laws decreed.”

He spoke in savage tones and burning ire;At once young Bijan turned away from sire.

Then Giv in fury at Prince Bijan’s jestLashed with his whip across the young man’s crest.

He cried: “Did no one teach you, reckless youth,That war requires reflection, judgment, truth?

You lack all prudence, foresight, wit, and thought;Such reckless speech brings punishment when wrought!”

Prince Bijan burned beneath his father’s blame,And swore by the Creator’s holy name:

“I shall not strip the saddle from my steedTill Zarasp is avenged, or death fulfills the deed.”

He turned away with sorrow in his heart,While thoughts of vengeance tore his peace apart.

Then Bijan went to Gostaham and said:“Lend me a mountain horse with fearless tread,

One strong and swift enough to reach the crest,So I may put that mountain youth to test.

A Turanian youth stands high upon the height;The ranks look on; I burn to meet in fight.”

But wise Gostaham replied: “This course is wrong;Do not ascend the mountainside headlong.

The world has rise and fall and open ground;We still must journey past this mountain bound.

Of horses fit to bear a mail-clad chief,But two remain; to lose one brings me grief.

Not one its equal could I ever find,In color, gait, great strength, or height combined.

Zarasp, a warrior mighty in command,And brave Rivniz lie dead upon the land.

Even Tus, who counts the world as dust,Retreated, shaken in his pride and trust.

Your father, lion-hunter, takes no careHow turning heavens wheel through upper air.

They turned away, hearts darkened by the fight;No man could master such a flinty height.

With vulture’s wings, or homa’s flight, one mightReach that high gate no man can climb outright.”

Then Bijan answered: “Do not break my heart,Nor rob my arms of strength before I start.

I swore by moon, by Judge of earth and sky,And by the Shah’s bright diadem on high,

That I shall either perish where I stand,Or take revenge for Zarasp by my hand.”

Then Gostaham replied: “This rage is wrong;Wise judgment does not sanction wrath so strong.”

Bijan said: “Then I will go to face the foe,And take revenge for that destroying blow.”

Then Gostaham replied, “I would defendEach hair upon your head until the end.

Had I a hundred thousand steeds in line,Their manes and tails adorned with jewels fine,

No horse, no treasure, life, nor gorz I spare;Nor sword would I withhold from any share.

Go choose among my horses one to ride;Saddle it; if it dies, let that abide.”

One long-built charger, wolf-like, tall, stood near;They bound its bargostvan as battle gear.

Giv thought of brave Forood and all his deeds,And burned to see such headlong acts proceed.

He summoned Gostaham and spoke at length,With many tales of youth and headlong strength.

Siavash’s jowshan and his royal helmHe sent Bijan, to help him overwhelm.

When Gostaham had brought the armor near,Bijan encased himself in battle gear.

Swift through the dust, he mounted and was gone,Toward Sepid Kooh, with vengeance driving on.

B12.14

The March to Kasa Rud

Tus lays waste the Turanian marches and camps at Kasa Rud. Bijan claims the fight with Palashan as the Shah’s charge, borrows Siavash’s mail from Giv, breaks Palashan’s back with his gorz and brings his head to Tus.

56 couplets · Bijan named 12 times · in the full poem

When Tus had ended war with brave Forood,He left the heights and marched in martial mood.

At Charam then he halted for three days,While dust still hung upon the mountain ways.

The fourth day shaypur thundered through the land,And Tus led forth the ranks at his command.

The ney and koust resounded on the plain,While ebony darkness veiled each ridge and chain.

Whatever troops of Turan met his sight,He slew and flung them headlong from the fight.

He left the marches empty, stripped and bare,No warp or woof remaining anywhere.

He reached at last the banks of Kasa Rud,And pitched his tents amid the multitude.

The earth lay hidden under tents and gear,No open stretch of ground was found so near.

The tidings reached Turan: “Iran’s arrayHas camped at Kasa Rud in full display.”

Then from the Turanians Palashan came out,A shrewd young warrior, fierce beyond all doubt.

He rode ahead to view Iran’s great force,And count the chiefs’ bright standards on his course.

Within the lines there rose an open mound,One side left empty, with no troops around.

There Giv sat speaking with Bijan his son,Of every matter, and he left out none.

Palashan’s banner rose along the way,Advancing from the Turanian lines that day.

Brave Giv unsheathed his sword and said, “I go;I see Palashan riding there below.

That lion is a horseman famed in fight,A valiant chief who trusts his arm and might.

I shall cut him down upon the open plain,Or bring him bound alive within our train.”

Bijan replied, “My father, hear my plea:The Shah bestowed that robe and charge on me.

By his command this task is mine to claim,And I must meet Palashan in his name.”

Giv answered, “Do not hurry to the fight;May Yazdan guard you from that lion’s might.

Perhaps you cannot stand against his blow;Do not make dark my day by going so.

He is a lion; meadow is his lair,And fighting men alone become his fare.”

Bijan replied, “Do not disgrace my nameBefore the Shah and tarnish all my fame.

Give me Siavash’s jowshan; let me go;This leopard I shall hunt and overthrow.”

Then Giv put the jowshan in Bijan’s grasp;He fastened tight each ring and scale and clasp.

He mounted on a charger swift and bright,And rode with spear in hand to seek the fight.

Now Palashan had brought a deer to ground,And roasted meat while smoke was curling round.

He ate beside the fire and kept his bow;His horse grazed freely on the grass below.

His horse saw Bijan’s charger drawing near,Then neighed and snorted loudly in his ear.

Then Palashan knew one had come to fight,And called aloud to challenge him outright:

“I fell fierce lions, bind the Divs I meet;Declare your name; your star shall mourn defeat.”

Bijan replied, “Bijan is my true name,An elephant, bronze-bodied, when wars flame.

My grandfather, a lion of the fray;My father, gallant Giv, still rules the day.

You shall behold my prowess in this hour,When battle breathes and warriors test their power.

Like carrion wolf among the mountain stone,You feed on smoke and ash and blood alone.

Now bring your warriors down from mountain height,And lead them to the hāmun for the fight.”

The Turanian gave no answer, loosed the rein,And wind-like drove his charger on the plain.

The warriors met with spears in furious thrust,And round their charging horses rose dark dust.

Their spearheads broke; their swords flashed in their hands,Till shattered steel lay scattered on the sands.

The riders shook like branches in a gale,While blow on blow made helm and armor quail.

Their chargers, drowned in sweat, began to reel;The warriors’ hearts grew heavy through ordeal.

Then both those lions, raging breast to breast,Drew forth their heavy gorzes for the test.

So battle raged until Bijan cried out,His gorz raised high, he gave a thunder-shout.

He struck brave Palashan across the waist,And broke the spine his jowshan had encased.

Helmed, mailed, his corpse fell headlong from the steed;Bijan dismounted swiftly for the deed.

He cut his head away, then proudly boreHis arms and charger from the field of war.

Meanwhile brave Giv had watched the field in fear,And wondered how the battle-wind would veer.

He paced and groaned upon the open height,Until Bijan’s dust-cloud rose into sight.

The youth brought head and jowshan, charger near,And laid them down before his father dear.

Then Giv replied, his heart released from care:“My son, may victory attend you everywhere.”

Then Giv and Bijan, joyful at the deed,Rode to the sepahbod’s pavilion at speed.

Before Tus they laid Palashan’s severed head,His horse, his jowshan, helm, and arms outspread.

At Bijan’s triumph Tus grew glad with flame,His spirit seemed to leap beyond its frame.

He said: “O son, the army’s strength and stay,The head of famed men in the Shah’s array,

The Shah’s bright diadem, live glad and high,Exalted-hearted under every sky.

May evil and the evildoer partForever from your fortune and your heart.”

C2.3

Bijan Goes to Fight the Wild Boars

Bijan and Gorgin ride toward the forest, hunting with cheetahs and hawks along the way. Gorgin refuses any part in the fight, so Bijan goes in alone, kills the boars with his khanjar, and loads their heads and tusks to carry before the Shah.

37 couplets · Bijan named 4 times · in the full poem

Bijan made ready to be on his way;He bound his belt, and set his helm that day.

He took Gorgin, the son of Milad, too,His match in strength, whose war-cry carried through.

He left the court with cheetahs trained to chase,While hawks flew overhead from place to place.

Like a foam-flinging elephant he sped,And tore from Gur-e-Khars and deer the head.

Wild sheep lay thick across the plain, hard-pressed,With cheetah claws sunk deep in heart and breast.

His kamand ringed the Gur-e-Khars in flight,Like Tahmuras binding Divs in royal might.

Above, the falcons seized the pheasant’s wing,And blood stained jasmine-leaves in early spring.

The road seemed like a garden, green and wide,And in this way they journeyed side by side.

They reached the place where that dark forest stood,And quickly they dismounted by the wood.

They kindled up a fearsome fire nearby,And sat, and fed the flame with branches dry.

They had a skin of wine with them that day,And one great female Gur-e-Khar their prey.

They roasted all of it upon the flame,And ate, and to the wine their counsel came.

They set their hands upon the wine, and eachGrew merry with the other, speech for speech.

When wine had flushed the face of each man red,Gorgin looked round to find himself a bed.

Bijan replied: “No sleep has hold of me;Lie not down, brother. Wait a while, and see,

That we may bind the work more firmly still,And ease the King’s heart of this weary ill.

When I come at the boars with arrows, keepYour station by the pool, where it runs deep.

Then when the tumult shakes the shadowed wood,Take up your gorz and strike as warriors should.

Whatever breaks away and slips my hand,Take off its head with one stroke where you stand.”

Gorgin replied: “That was not our accord,Nor was it promised to the new-crowned lord.

You took the jewels, the silver and the gold;You bound your belt this battlefield to hold.

Now ask no help of me beyond this one:That I will show the place, and then have done.”

Bijan heard this, amazed; you would have thoughtThe whole wide world to darkness had been brought.

Then lion-like into the wood he passed;The bold man strung his bow and held it fast.

He roared like springtime thunder, harsh and loud;Leaves fell around him raining from the cloud.

Like a mad elephant he chased the boars,With tempered khanjar drawn amid their roars.

They charged him all together for the fight;Their tusks tore up the earth to left and right.

Their tusks struck fire out; and it seemed the worldWas burning where those blazing tusks were hurled.

A boar came on like Ahriman; it toreAnd ripped the jowshan Bijan’s body wore.

Like a steel file that grates on flinty stone,It sharpened on a trunk each tusk of bone.

They raised the very fire of battle high,And from that meadow smoke went up the sky.

He drove the khanjar to its head, straight through;Its elephant body was cleft in two.

Those bold beasts turned fox-like before the blade,Their bodies bloodied and their war-heart stayed.

He cut their heads off with the khanjar’s blow,And bound them to Shabrang’s proud saddle-bow.

To lay their tusks before the Shah, he ledHis horse out to the road with every head.

To show Iran’s great champions his art,Heads from the fighting boars struck clean apart.

He heaped their mountain bodies on a wain,Till buffalo teams bent beneath the strain.

C2.5

Bijan Seeks Manijeh

In the Irman meadows Gorgin reports that Manijeh has come. Bijan puts on his father’s crown and the jeweled gifts of his house, rides to the grove and watches the feast. Manijeh sees him, sends her nurse with questions, and after messages pass she invites him in.

55 couplets · Bijan named 9 times · in the full poem

They set out on that tedious road ahead,One drawn by longing, one by vengeance led.

Bijan, the refuge of the warrior band,At day’s end reached the woods on either hand.

The two in Irman’s meadows two days spent,With hawk and cheetah, free, on pleasure bent.

Soon Gorgin heard Manijeh had come near;The plain took color like a cock’s eye, clear.

He told Bijan the princess held her feast,Where joy and song and wine had never ceased.

Then Bijan said to Gorgin: “I will startThis going first, and take the forward part.

I go to view the banquet from a hill,And see Turanians at their feasting still.

First on their faces let me look, and seeWhich one of them comes pleasantest to me.

With burnished spearhead lifted to the sky,I turn the rein at once and pass them by.

Then we can choose the course that seems secure,Once what our eyes have witnessed makes us sure.”

Then Gorgin said: “Go, and be glad; may youBe free of sorrow all your seasons through.”

Then Bijan rose, his two cheeks flushing red,And set his business straight before he sped.

He bade the treasurer: “Bring the crown whose lightMy father wore to make the banquet bright.

Bring it. Our road lies to the banquet now,And it shall sit in splendor on my brow.

Kay Khosrow’s torque, the earring bright with gold,And Giv’s own armlet, jeweled to behold.”

A glittering Roman tunic was his gown;A homa feather hung from off his crown.

They saddled Shabrang, noblest of the herd;He called for signet, belt, and arms to gird.

He set his foot to stirrup and he passed,Toward that thicket riding hot and fast.

He came in nearer, entered in the wood,And on his longing brooded where he stood.

He took his place beneath a cypress high,Lest harm should reach him from the burning sky.

He tied his horse, and from that place unseenHe watched them, hidden where the boughs were green.

He saw them like Kandahar’s idols stand,Adorned like glad spring over all that land.

The whole plain sounded with the rud and song,And greeting to the soul seemed borne along.

When from her tent the maiden saw his face,She marked the chieftain’s stature, fire, and grace.

His cheeks were like Canopus, bright and fair,Or jasmine blooming through violet-dark hair.

The crown of his father was on his head;His breast blazed bright with Roman brocade’s thread.

Within the curtain, veiled, the maiden yearned;Toward that sunlike face her whole heart turned.

She sent her nurse off swiftly: “Go and seeWho stands, moon-featured, by that cypress-tree.

Has Siavash arisen from the dead,Or does some fairy walk the earth instead?

Ask him: ‘Who brought you to this distant place?What road has led you here with such a face?

Are you a pari, or Siavash reborn,Whose beauty leaves the heart by longing torn?

You kindled such a raging fire in me,I feel the Last Day has now come to be.

For year by year within this meadow-groundI keep the feast when each new spring comes round.

At this feast-ground I saw no one before;You only, moon of aspect—and no more.’”

The nurse, when she had heard her lady’s word,Went lightly out, and quick her footstep stirred.

She came from there to Bijan’s resting place,And blessed him, bowing low before his face.

She gave Manijeh’s message clear and true;Both Bijan’s cheeks like roses opening grew.

And thus did Bijan answer in this strain:“O messenger of sweet speech, hear me plain;

No Siavash am I, no fairy’s seed;From Iran am I come, of noble breed.

I am Giv’s son, and Bijan’s name is mine;From Iran came I, sharp-clawed, on the swine.

I cut their heads off, cast them on the road,To bring their tusks before the Shah’s abode.

But when I heard of this fair banquet-place,I did not haste toward Giv of Gudarz’ race.

Light-footed, I took up this forest way,And full of thought I let the other stay.

I hoped, if only in a dream, to findAfrasiab’s child, whose image filled my mind.

If you will stand my warrant in this thing,I give you this rich raiment of a king.

From me this jeweled cup shall be your prize,And in it, earrings gem-set for your eyes.

Now all this plain is decked before my viewLike Chin’s idol-house, with treasure shining through.

Deal kindly, and I give a golden crown,An earring and a girdle of renown.

Then lead me to that lady, bright and fair,And win her heart for me with gentle care.”

When Bijan spoke, the nurse turned back and went,And to Manijeh’s ear the secret sent:

“Such is his face, and such his stature; soThe World-Creator fashioned him, I know.”

She sent her answer in that very hour:“What you had guessed at now is in your power.

If you come walking hither to my sight,You turn this darkened soul of mine to light.

With sight of you my eye is made to shine;This plain, this tent, a rose-garden of mine.”

Back came the messenger, the guide, and broughtHer words; his heart and ear on them were caught.

C2.10

Bijan Is Put in Bonds

Bijan is riveted in chains and cast headfirst into a pit sealed with Akvan’s stone. Manijeh’s palace is stripped and she is driven barefoot to the pit-mouth, where she scrapes a small opening, begs bread from door to door, and feeds him.

31 couplets · Bijan named 2 times · in the full poem

Afrasiab commanded: “Garsivaz, obey;Prepare a pit where light shall lose its way.

Draw both his hands in chains, his throat in hold,And clamp a Rumi bond, bridge-arched and cold.

Make all secure with heavy rivets fast,Then headfirst down to black despair be cast.

Shut sun and moon forever from his eyes;Take elephants where Akvan’s great stone lies.

That stone the Piltan raised from ocean deep,And cast in Chin’s far wilds for fate to keep,

That stone shall now avenge me on this man;Bring elephants and all the force you can.

The stone above Arzhang’s dark dungeon-doorShall seal him in and hide him evermore.

Then leave him there to madness, grief, and night,And ride to Manijeh’s palace in your might.

Go sack the palace of that wanton maid,Whose shameless choice has made her honor fade.

Strip her of crown and fortune, head and all,And speak these words, and let my anger fall:

‘Accursed, wretched girl, unfit to wearThe royal crown or breathe the royal air,

You have abased my head among the great,And dragged my royal crown through scorn and hate.’

Then drag her naked to the pit and say:‘Behold your royal lover here today.

You are his springtime now, his joy, his guide;Go serve and comfort him there at his side.

Remain with him inside that sunken cell,And leave them both within that living hell.’”

They carried out the monarch’s harsh command,And seized Giv’s son, still fettered foot and hand.

Before the pit’s black mouth they set him down,And ironed him from heel to very crown.

His waist and hands with heavy chains were wound,While smiths drove iron rivets, hard and sound.

With steel and hammers every bond was fast;Then headfirst in the pit Bijan was cast.

They sealed him under stone; then from that placeThe troops withdrew, grim anger on each face.

They reached the princess’ palace, seized her store,And cast her wealth in heaps across the floor.

Manijeh was left bare, without a veil,Barefoot, bareheaded, and her face grown pale.

They dragged her to the pit; her heart was blood,Her face a channel running like a flood.

Garsivaz said, “Look here, and you shall seeYour home; the prisoner’s servant you shall be.”

Manijeh stayed, with anguish in her breast,And blood-drops on her cheeks, and found no rest.

He turned away; Manijeh, bride of woe,Roamed through the plain with nowhere else to go.

When one full day and night had passed in grief,She scraped a handbreadth opening for relief.

When from the mountain’s crest the sun raised head,Manijeh went from door to door for bread.

Through the long day she gathered, crust by crust,And brought it to the pit-hole through the dust.

She gave it to Bijan, and wept her fill,And in that ill-starred living lingered still.

With sigh and cry, through every hour she keptThat pit’s own watch, and never left, but wept.

C2.23

Bijan Learns Rostam Is Coming

Manijeh carries the merchant’s food to the pit and Bijan finds Rostam’s ring hidden in it. He laughs, swears her to secrecy, and sends her back with a password. Rostam tells her to burn a fire by night to mark the pit-mouth.

82 couplets · Bijan named 13 times · in the full poem

Manijeh hurried to the pit and pressedThe dishes that she carried to her breast.

As she received it, wrapped and tightly bound,She passed the food to Bijan underground.

Bijan looked up in wonder from the ground;His call rose from the pit, a startled sound.

He called: “O sun-faced maiden, tell me true,Where did you find this food, so fine and new?

What toil and hardship for my sake you bear,Forever roaming, bowed by grief and care!”

Manijeh said: “Among the caravanThere is a merchant, a widely known man.

From Iran into Turan, seeking gain,He bore a heavy load of grief and pain.

A worthy man, discerning and refined,With jewels of each precious sort combined.

He has a spacious place to sell his store,A lodging set before the palace door.

He gave this food to me just as you see,And said: ‘Before the Maker pray for me.

Go to the dungeon, to the man in chains,Take all else that he needs to ease his pains.’”

Bijan unfolded all the wholesome bread,With hope at times, at times with fear and dread.

He reached to eat and found the hidden ringAmid the food that she had come to bring.

He read the name and marveled at the sight;He laughed aloud in wonder and delight.

A turquoise seal bore Rostam’s name; each lineWas cut with iron, like a hair so fine.

He saw the fruit of faithfulness appear,And knew the key to grief at last was here.

He laughed in royal gladness from the pit,Until Manijeh heard, amazed by it.

She marveled at his laughter from that gloom,Where chains and darkness wrapped him like a tomb.

She spoke a proverb, puzzled by his glee:“A madman laughs at his own acts,” said she.

She stood bewildered by the sound below:“O fortunate one, why does your laughter flow?

How can your lips spread open with delight,When night is day to you, and day is night?

What mystery is this? Reveal it now.Does better fortune show a brighter brow?”

Bijan replied: “I hope that fortune’s handWill loose these grievous bonds and let me stand.

But swear your loyal heart will not betrayThe secret I am bound to now convey.

I will reveal the matter, every part,Once you have sworn to keep it in your heart.

Though lips be stitched for fear of harm and pain,A woman’s tongue will seldom bear the chain.”

Manijeh heard and wept in bitter woe:“What further grief can cruel fortune show?

Alas for all my days that now are done;My heart is stricken, and my tears still run.

I gave Bijan myself, my home, my all;Now his distrust is added to my fall.

I gave my crown, my treasure, and my gold,To plunder, with each gem I used to hold.

My father and my kin abandoned me;I go unveiled where all the people see.

In Bijan I had hoped; that hope takes flight;My world grows black, my weeping eyes grow white.

He hides his secret from me in this place,But You, Creator, know my heart and case.”

Bijan replied: “The truth is on your side;For me you lost your fortune and your pride.

I should not have said that, beloved friend,Prudent companion, faithful to the end.

Counsel me in all things; grief and painHave clouded wit and judgment in my brain.

That jewel-merchant, he who gave last nightThe roasted bird, has come to end my plight.

He came to Turan for my sake alone;He had no need of any precious stone.

The Maker looked on me with pity’s grace;Perhaps I may again see earth’s broad face.

That man will free me from this prison’s chain,And end your weary wandering and pain.

Go near to him and whisper in his ear:‘O Kayanian Pahlevan, make clear:

Kind-hearted, swift in finding ways to free,If you are lord of Rakhsh, then answer me.’”

Manijeh sped away with urgent speed,And bore to Rostam Bijan’s secret need.

When Rostam heard the words that she conveyed,After the long, hard journey she had made,

He knew Bijan had made the secret known,And to that cypress all the story shown.

He pitied her and said: “May God aboveKeep strong for Bijan all your faithful love.

What toil and hardship you have borne so long,Brought low by want, enduring shame and wrong.

Tell him: ‘Yes, God, who hears the helpless plea,Has granted you the lord of Rakhsh in me.

From Zabul through Iran to Turan’s plain,I traveled far for you, through toil and pain.’

When you have said this, keep the matter sealed,And listen well at night across the field.

By day, bring fuel from the woodland ways,And when night comes, set all the pile ablaze.

Make fire to guide me; it will be my markTo find the pit’s mouth in the heavy dark.”

Manijeh heard him, and her heart grew light;Her sorrows fled, her joy put grief to flight.

She hurried to the pit, where, bound below,Her loved companion shared her grief and woe.

She told Bijan: “I spoke the words you gaveTo that illustrious lord, renowned and brave.

His answer was: ‘The name and signs agree;The man whom Bijan sought is truly me.

O you who walk with heart so seared by pain,And wash your cheeks in blood-red tears like rain,

Say this: “Like leopards, worn in waist and hand,We tracked you through the hardship of this land.

Now we have certain tidings where you lie;Soon you shall see our man-slaying blade on high.

I will rend the earth; that resting stone shall flyUp to the Pleiades within the sky.”’

He said: ‘When all the air is dark with night,And night escapes the sun’s firm grasp of light,

Set fire like a mountain, till its rayMakes plain and pit-mouth shine as bright as day,

So I may see the pit-mouth by its glow,And through the dark find out the road to go.’”

Bijan rejoiced, though still in prison bound;Her message made his heart with joy resound.

He turned to God, the merciful and just:“O holy Judge, in You I place my trust.

In every grief Your aid can make me whole;Pierce with Your shaft my foe in heart and soul.

Give justice for the wrong beneath Your sight;You know my grief, my burning heart, my plight.

Perhaps I may regain my home afar,And bear no more the shame of this ill star.

And you, my toil-worn mate, who shared my pain,Who gave life, heart, wealth, body for my gain,

You bore the hardship I had brought your way,And counted loss as gain from day to day.

Your treasure, crown, and jewels; all you gave,Left friends, kin, mother, father, me to save.

If from this dragon’s grip I break at length,While in my body stay my youth and strength,

Like righteous men who worship God, I will standTo serve you with my feet and with my hand.

Like one whose service to a king is shown,I shall devote my strength to you alone.

Bear this toil longer; great reward shall riseIn goods and treasure underneath the skies.”

Manijeh rushed for wood; with eager treadShe climbed like birds where spreading branches led.

She watched the sun, the wood upon her breast:When would night raise its head above the crest?

The sun withdrew, its shining face concealed;Night spread its skirts across the open field.

It was the hour when all the world lay still,And what was seen grew hidden, field and hill.

When night led armies over hill and height,The sun that lit the world withdrew its light.

To pierce the pitch-black darkness, keen and bright,She lit the blaze that scorched the eyes of night.

A brazen tabira in her heart beat clear:“Now steel-hoofed Rakhsh is coming; he draws near!”

C2.24

Rostam Rescues Bijan from the Pit

Seven chiefs cannot shift the stone, so Rostam lifts it alone and hurls it away. He makes Bijan pardon Gorgin before drawing him up by kamand, breaks his fetters, and sends him off with Manijeh while he rides against Afrasiab.

57 couplets · Bijan named 9 times · in the full poem

Rostam clasped his Roman jowshan in place,And knotted fast each strap and every lace.

To Him who rules the sun and moon he cried,And sought in Him a refuge and a guide:

“Let evil eyes be blinded; grant me mightTo rescue Bijan from his bitter plight.”

He gave command; the warriors armed for fight,And drew their battle-belts about them tight.

They set leopard-skin saddles on each steed,Their hands prepared for battle and its need.

Then Rostam led them, seeking out the track,Toward the fire, his comrades at his back.

When Rostam reached the boulder Akvan cast,He saw the pit of grief and anguish vast.

He told the seven warriors at his side,“We have the earth before us yet to ride.

Prepare yourselves to undertake this deed;Remove this stone with all your strength and speed.”

The chiefs dismounted, ready now to tryTo clear the stone beneath which he must lie.

They wore their hands in labor, strained and pressed;The chiefs grew weary; still the stone lay at rest.

Sweat streamed from those illustrious men in vain;The stone stayed at the pit-mouth through their strain.

The lion-chief dismounted in his might,And tucked his jowshan’s hem in girdle tight.

He asked Yazdan to lend His strength and care,Then gripped the rock and raised it through the air.

He hurled it into Chin’s woods; it struck the ground,And all the earth beneath it shook with sound.

Then Rostam called, lamenting, down below,“How have you fared through all this time of woe?

Your portion once was sweetness, feast, and grace;Why take its cup of poison in this place?”

Bijan replied, “How fared you on the road?What hardship did you bear beneath its load?

Your voice reached me and made my joy complete;The poison of the world grew wholly sweet.

Behold the home where I must live alone:My earth is iron, and my sky is stone.

Through anguish, hardship, suffering, and grief,My heart forsook this world, so frail and brief.”

Then Rostam said, “God spared your life from death;The shining Maker has preserved your breath.

Now, wise and noble-hearted one, attend:I have one wish to put to you, my friend.

Forgive Gorgin, Milad’s son, and breakThe chain of vengeance; pardon for my sake.”

Bijan replied, “Chieftain, how can you knowWhat storms of conflict brought my spirit low?

Do you not know what Gorgin did to me?How deep the hurt, how base his treachery!

One sight of him; and all my wrath will spread;My vengeance will bring Doomsday on his head.”

“If malice rules,” said Rostam, “and you turnAgainst my plea, no mercy shall you earn.

I shall leave you below in chains and gloom,Then mount Rakhsh, and ride back from this dark tomb.”

When Rostam’s answer reached Bijan in chains,A cry rose upward from his bitter pains.

“Of warriors, kindred, all the gathered band,I am the most ill-fated in the land.

For all the wrong that Gorgin brought my way,I must endure this further bitter day.

Yet I will bear it; I will end my claim,And turn my heart from vengeance and from blame.”

Then Rostam lowered his kamand out of sight,And drew him up, his feet still fettered tight.

His head was bare, his hair and nails were long,His frame made weak by hunger, pain, and wrong.

His face was wan, his bloodied body worn,By rusted chains and iron shackles torn.

When Rostam saw him cloaked in iron weight,He cried aloud against that bitter fate.

He stretched his hands and broke each iron link,And loosed the ankle-ring there at the brink.

Together they returned where Rostam stayed,With one on either side, the youth and maid.

The youthful pair, still marked by grief and blight,Recounted to the chief their grievous plight.

Rostam had them wash Bijan’s head and hair,And dress him in a new robe, fresh and fair.

Then Gorgin came, his face bowed to the ground,And rubbed it in the dust, by sorrow bound.

He begged forgiveness for his treacherous game,And writhed at his own foolish words in shame.

Bijan released his hatred, and he castAside all vengeance for the guilty past.

They loaded camels, saddled every steed,While Rostam donned his arms with eager speed.

With swords and heavy gorzes drawn for fight,The mounted chiefs stood ready in their might.

They sent the baggage on ahead, and thenThey set all things for battle once again.

Ashkash, the watchful scout, went with the train,The army’s ears through every new terrain.

Then Rostam told Bijan, “Take now the roadWith Ashkash and Manijeh and the load.

For vengeance on Afrasiab I go;Tonight, no food, no rest, no sleep shall I know.

I will strike his gate; tomorrow all his menWill laugh at him for what I have done by then.

I will blacken his bright day; before our kingAt feast, his severed head is what I will bring.

With my sharp sword, I shall bring you twoFrom Turan, ending all you suffer through.

The pit and fetters brought you pain and blight;You must not stay upon this field to fight.”

When Bijan heard the words that Rostam said,To join the troops with her and ride ahead,

“I am the one to lead,” he answered then;“Through me the feud has been renewed again.

You know, Tahamtan, Bijan is my name:I strike off champions’ heads in battle’s flame.”

C3.14

Houman and Bijan Meet in Combat

At dawn the two ride far from both armies, pledge to spare each other’s interpreters, and fight with bows, spears, swords and gorzes. They wrestle from the saddle without result, break off exhausted to drink, and Bijan prays for strength.

61 couplets · Bijan named 6 times · in the full poem

When morning breathed above the mountain height,And dark night’s skirt withdrew before the light,

Houman put on his armor for the fray,And told Piran what passed the previous day:

“I challenged Bijan, Giv’s own son, to fight,And made my preparations through the night.”

He called his interpreter from the array,And mounted him upon his wind-swift bay.

“Go, tell Bijan to hurry here,” he spoke,“Or I shall come upon him like thick smoke.”

The envoy turned and said, “May wisdom stayBeside your noble soul and guide your way.”

Then Houman came like dust to seek the fray,And fight with Bijan on the plain that day.

Bijan came then also, set to meet his foe,His interpreter with him, ready to go.

He tightened Shabrang’s girth for the fight,And came like a fierce leopard in his might.

His royal casque shone bright upon his head;Across his breast his knotted jowshan spread.

He said, “You reckless fool, last night your lifeWas spared; you left the field and quit the strife.

Today I hope this sword within my handWill part your head and body on the sand.

Your blood shall make flowers blossom from the clay;Take now to heart the tale that I shall say.

A mountain ram once told the deer one day:‘Though silk should clothe that plain in rich array,

I will not tread that ground, though dressed so fair,Where once my foot was caught within a snare.’”

Houman replied, “Today bold Giv shall break,And grieve his son for this mad battle’s sake.

Will you contend with me at Kanabad,Or choose the distant field beside Raibad?

So none can hear our cries or bring us aid,No man of Iran or Turan with blade.”

Bijan replied, “Why talk? Fight where you will;Choose where to turn, and let our words be still.”

They spurred their horses; dust rose from the ground,Their bows already strung for battle’s round.

Their heads rose toward the moon, their wrath ran high;For royal vengeance, each would kill or die.

They rode from Kanabad and left the height,Their faces toward the plain, prepared to fight.

They reached a desert where no footprints showed,No trace of any man upon their road.

No vultures crossed the empty sky ahead;No lion’s tracks marked where their chargers sped.

No comrade from the armies could they see,No helper near to hear what cries might be.

They made a pact: whoever won the dayWould let the interpreters go on their way.

Whichever warrior should survive the fightWould hold no grudge against them for his plight,

So they might tell the king both good and ill,And how the turns of fortune worked their will:

What deeds were done, what fighting each had shown,What anguish on that field of blood was known.

This done, they both dismounted, jowshans laced,And knotted fast each strap about the waist.

With girths drawn hard as stone, they sat astride,Their saddles firm, and vengeance burned inside.

They took their bows and rode in fierce array,Into the narrow field to start the fray.

They bent their bows until the bowstrings strained,And steel-tipped khadang shafts between them rained.

When they had shot their arrows in the fight,They took their spears and charged with all their might.

They wheeled their horses, swerving left and right,And thrust their spears with tempered spearheads bright.

Their jowshans tore to fragments in the fray;See whose good fortune turns from him today.

Their mouths hung open, parched with thirst and pain;They longed for rest and water on the plain.

They paused and drew their breath, those fighting men,And cooled the fire before they fought again.

Then shields were raised and scimitars shone bright;The cries of Doomsday thundered through the fight.

Like lightning flashing from a cloud on high,Their helms and swords sent fire across the sky.

No iron could withstand the tempered steel,Or bear the blows those mighty hands could deal.

Their blades fell from their hands like flames of fire,As both fought on, their fury still entire.

Each hero failed to shed the other’s blood,Yet both hearts still burned on like fire and flood.

They took up gorzes, struck with all their might,And passed all bounds of fury in the fight.

Then both agreed to put their strength to test,And prove whose arm was mightiest and best.

Each sought to win the honor of the deed:To drag his rival from the lofty steed.

Whoever gripped the belt with greater strengthWould fling his rival down, disgraced, full length.

The stirrup-leathers snapped beneath the strain,So fiercely did they grapple on the plain.

Yet neither lost his seat, for all their force;No man could throw the other from his horse.

Then both dismounted from their weary steeds,And rested briefly from their violent deeds.

The two interpreters held both steeds still;Like lions in their rage, they breathed their fill.

Then, though exhausted, both renewed the war,And braced themselves to wrestle, strained and sore.

From dawn until the sun spread shade below,They fought in fear and hope against the foe.

No man turned back, no warrior yielded ground;Each sought the fight, by vengeance firmly bound.

Their mouths grew parched; their bodies streamed with sweat,Beneath the sun, with toil and heat beset.

Then, by consent, they left the place of strife,And sought the water that sustains all life.

Bijan drank water, rose, and in his painRemembered God, from whom all good we gain.

In pain he shook like willow in the gale;His hope of life grew faint, his strength grown frail.

He said, “O Maker, You know all I hide,And all that stands revealed on every side.

If You find justice in this fight we wage,And in the vengeance that has stirred our rage,

Do not withdraw my strength from me today;Keep my mind clear and watchful through the fray.”

C3.15

Bijan Slays Houman

Exhausted, the two wrestle again; Bijan throws Houman, beheads him and gives thanks. He hides in Houman’s khaftan, rides his horse and carries his banner to safety, then reverses the flag, and both armies learn the truth at once.

68 couplets · Bijan named 10 times · in the full poem

Houman, crow-dark, his face like smoky night,Advanced, worn down, to meet the coming fight.

Both men were weary, yet came on with force,Like leopards wheeling back upon their course.

They strained against each other, round by round;Each, in his turn, was brought to brush the ground.

They strained with strength and every wrestler’s art,Till heaven’s hidden craft revealed its part.

Though Houman was the stronger of the two,When fortune turns, what can mere strength then do?

With leopard strength, Bijan held his man, braced,And reached from head to grip him round the waist.

His left hand gripped the neck, his right the thigh;He bent that camel’s back and heaved him high.

He dashed him down and laid his rival low,Then drew his khanjar, swift as winds that blow.

He drove the khanjar in and sheared the head,Then cast him like a dragon, lifeless, dead.

The mighty body rolled upon the plain;Its blood poured out in streams across the terrain.

Bijan beheld that mighty bulk lie prone,Like some straight cypress felled and overthrown.

Amazed, he turned his face toward the height,And praised Yazdan who governs day and night.

“O Ruler, set beyond all place and time,Above the turning heavens’ bounds sublime,

You alone command the world here below;No wisdom can deny that this is so.

I claim no share of prowess in this deed,No heart to face that elephant at need.

I struck for Siavash, whose blood cried long,And for my father’s brothers, seventy strong.

May Houman’s spirit serve my own at will,His body feed the lions on the hill.”

To Shabrang’s saddle-straps he bound the head,And left the trunk upon its dusty bed.

His armor lay unfastened, belt untied;His head and trunk lay sundered, cast aside.

The world is all deception, through and through;In hardship, it will bring no help to you.

So let no trusting heart upon it lean,For what it does belies what we have seen.

When Houman, son of Viseh, breathed his last,The two interpreters came running fast.

They bowed as Brahmans bow before the shrineOf Chin’s great idol, held to be divine.

Then Bijan scanned the field and saw no wayExcept through Turan’s army in array.

He feared that murderous multitude would rise,When Houman’s fall appeared before their eyes.

They might pour forth like mountains to the fight;Alone, he could not match their gathered might.

He stripped Siavash’s jowshan from his frame,And wore Houman’s khaftan to conceal his name.

He mounted Houman’s great charger, light-gray,And bore the fallen chieftain’s flag away.

He blessed his wakeful fortune and the ground,The field where such good tiding had been found.

When Houman’s own interpreter drew near,And saw his master slain, he shook with fear.

Then Bijan freed him, and his fear allayed:“Fear nothing. I will keep the pledge I made.

Go tell your army what your eyes have known,And say what deeds this battlefield has shown.”

The man departed; Bijan bent his bow,Then rode where Mount Kanabad’s foothills show.

When Turkish watchmen saw, against the sky,Their prince’s signs and sable banner fly,

They rose and cheered to see that welcome sight,And filled the watch-post with their loud delight.

They sent a hiyun rider off like smoke,To tell Piran what sudden hopes awoke.

“Houman returns victorious from the fray;The king’s good fortune crowned his deeds today.

The Iranian flag is overturned,” he said,“Their champion lies in dust and blood, struck dead.”

The camp cried out; their leader strained his earTo catch Houman’s swift hoofbeats drawing near.

What joy is there that brings no grief or woe?Its fire rains hail upon the helms below.

Now Bijan reached the shelter of his side,Where Iran’s royal power could guard his ride.

The interpreter returned and told the fight,Relating all that passed before his sight.

The tidings reached Piran and struck him low;His royal splendor darkened at the blow.

A cry from Turan’s army rent the air;The warriors tore their helms off in despair.

The world grew dark beneath that weight of grief;Their frantic words could bring them no relief.

The lion-hearted victor, battle-tried,Reversed the sable banner at his side.

Iranian watchmen saw the flag reversed,And knew their champion as their glad cries burst.

They turned toward the chief and raised a cry,Till news of triumph rang beneath the sky.

They sent a hiyun rider with swift paceTo bring Gudarz the triumph of his race:

“Bijan returns in triumph from the fight,And bears the sable flag reversed in sight.”

Giv wandered like a man by grief destroyed,Still crying out for news, his hopes made void.

He sought his son with every anxious breath,And in joy’s hour still mourned as though for death.

Then tidings came of Bijan’s victory;Giv rushed to where his living son would be.

He saw his son; at once, his spirit stirred,He left his saddle like a swooping bird.

He rolled in dust and bowed his head in praiseTo God, the righteous Judge of all our days.

He clasped his wise and valiant son and heldHim close, the terror of the day dispelled.

All sought Gudarz with praise that never ceased,As Bijan came through war, from death released.

When Bijan saw his grandfather appear,He left the horse of Houman, that brave peer.

His arms were bloody, dust lay on his head;The saddle bore the head of Houman, dead.

He brought the armor, steed, and head to showGudarz the tokens of his fallen foe.

Gudarz rejoiced as though his soul would spillBeyond his breast, and all the world would fill.

He praised the Judge of all for fortune’s sign,And blessed the star that made that fortune shine.

He called his treasurer to bring a crown,And royal robes befitting such renown.

The robe was jewel-woven, gold its ground;Like sunlight shone the crown and belt around.

Ten steeds with golden bridles came in line,Ten handsome servants, gold belts gleaming fine.

He gave them, saying, “Since great Sahm, no peerHas brought a dragon low as you did here.

You freed our army’s hand and cleared its way,And broke the Turkish monarch’s heart today.

Our army now, like lions in their pride,Roars as their swift steeds bear them on their ride.”

C3.34

Bijan Battles Ruyin

Bijan and Ruyin, Piran’s son, gain nothing with their bows. Bijan’s Roman gorz breaks Ruyin’s head and he dies in the saddle thinking of his father. Bijan beheads him, hauls the body up with his kamand and raises his lion banner on the height.

16 couplets · Bijan named 3 times · in the full poem