New NaqqaliKing of Turan · son of Pashang
Afrasiabافراسیاب
af-rah-see-YAHB
King of Turan, son of Pashang, Iran's great enemy; killer of Nohzar and Siavash. Seized at last by the hermit Hum, he is put to death by Kay Khosrow.
- His story
- From B1.2, Pashang Hears of Manuchehr’s Death, to C4.44, The Death of Afrasiab and Garsivaz
- Named
- 532 times, in 232 sections
- Parents
- Pashang of Turan
- Children
- Farangis, Shideh, Surkha, Qarakhan, Jahan, Manijeh
- Plates
- Vol I: I, Vol I: VI, Vol II: III
- Pictures
- 64 panels · identity sheets
How we draw Afrasiab
The identity sheets the illustrator works from, one for each stage of life. Tap to open full size. More in the Art section.
In the pictures
Afrasiab in 64 woodcut panels of the illustrated poem, in story order. Tap one to see it with the couplets it illustrates.
B1.2Afrasiab Vows Vengeance before Pashang
B1.3Afrasiab Sends the Night Courier
B1.5Nohzar and Afrasiab Clash Spear to Spear
B1.7Nohzar Taken in Chains
B1.11Nohzar Brought Bound before Afrasiab
B1.13Afrasiab Draws on Aghriras
B3.2Rostam Lifts Afrasiab by the Girdle
B6.7Afrasiab Reads Kavus's Challenge
B7.2Afrasiab Sees Rostam on Rakhsh
B7.4Afrasiab Slips the Kamand
B9.18Afrasiab Drives Garsivaz from His Door
B9.19Afrasiab Wakes from the DreamAll 64 pictures
B9.20The Sage Reads Afrasiab's Dream
B9.21Afrasiab Sends Garsivaz with Gifts
B9.23Afrasiab Yields Hostages and Withdraws
B9.30Afrasiab Entrusts Zangeh with His Letter
B9.32Afrasiab Greets Siavash on Foot
B9.33Siavash Strikes the Ball toward the Moon
B9.33Siavash Strings the Bow Garsivaz Could Not
B9.33Siavash Cleaves the Wild Ass
B9.36Afrasiab Weighs Piran's Plea in Tears
B9.47Garsivaz Whispers Slander to Afrasiab
B9.50Afrasiab Marches Out from Gang
B9.51Siavash's Dream of Fire and Water
B9.53Siavash Forbids His Men to Fight
B9.54Farangis Sees Siavash Bound
B9.59Khosrow Before Afrasiab
B10.7Afrasiab Mourns His Son Surkha
B10.9Rostam Unhorses Afrasiab; Houman Strikes
B10.14Afrasiab Returns to a Ruined Land
B10.26Afrasiab Meets Piran Bound in the Saddle
B10.28Afrasiab at the Empty Ferry
B12.18Afrasiab Reviews Piran's Host
B12.26Turan Welcomes Piran Home
B14.19Ill Tidings Reach Afrasiab's Court
B14.22Puladvand's Drunken Boast at Afrasiab's Feast
B14.25Rostam Lifts Puladvand Like a Plane-Tree
C1.5Rostam Routs Afrasiab and Takes the Elephants
C2.8Bijan Bound before Afrasiab
C2.26Rostam Taunts Afrasiab before the Lines
C2.27Afrasiab Casts Down His Sword
C3.2Afrasiab Opens the Treasures of Tur
C3.22Piran's Envoy Reaches Afrasiab
C4.3Afrasiab Casts Down His Crown
C4.3A Thousand Boats Cross the Jihun
C4.5Shideh Begs to Face Khosrow
C4.6Afrasiab Weeps as Shideh Departs
C4.7Afrasiab Remembers His Dream
C4.9Afrasiab Learns of Shideh's Death
C4.10The Turks Storm the Elephant Towers
C4.13Afrasiab at Ease in Gang-Behesht
C4.15A Wind Breaks the Turkish Ranks
C4.16Afrasiab Finds Rostam Awake
C4.17Gang's Walls Armed for Siege
C4.20Afrasiab Arms His Garrison
C4.22Afrasiab Watches His City Burn
C4.26Afrasiab Surveys Khosrow's Array
C4.29The Storm Blinds the Turkish Host
C4.31Afrasiab at the Shore of Zereh
C4.41Hohm Wrestles Afrasiab in the Cave
C4.42Afrasiab Slips into the Lake
C4.43Garsivaz's Cries Draw Afrasiab from the Water
C4.44Hohm Casts His Kamand
C4.44Khosrow Avenges SiavashHis story, in the poem’s own sections
11 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.
B1.3
Afrasiab Invades Iran
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In spring Afrasiab crosses the Jihun with a vast army and camps before Nohzar at Dehestan. He sends a force against Zabulistan, where Zal is building Sahm’s tomb, and writes in triumph to Pashang that Iran’s one feared champion is dead.
30 couplets · Afrasiab named 3 times · in the full poem
When spring laid silk of green across the plain,Turan’s warriors girded for campaign.
From Turan and from Chin their armies streamed,With eastern gorz-men through the war ranks gleamed.
No center marked it, no far edge was known,Yet Nohzar’s youthful fortune now had flown.
When Turan’s army to the Jihun drew near,The news soon reached King Nohzar’s waiting ear.
The Shah’s whole army left the palace gate,And crossed the open plain in martial state.
Toward Dehestan they turned in war array;Gharan the battle-seeker led the way.
Behind him rode King Nohzar with his train,And all the world rang loud with war’s refrain.
When near Dehestan all the army came,You would think the Sun itself had lost its flame.
They raised Nohzar’s pavilion on the plain,Before the fortress where his troops would remain.
At Dehestan the battle lines were made,And soon fresh orders through the camp were laid.
For Afrasiab, now on Iran’s ground,Chose two great chiefs from warriors renowned.
Shamasas, Khazarvan, chiefs of command,Received picked cavalry from his own hand.
Some thirty thousand warriors formed array,All fit for battle, rode at once away.
Toward Zabulistan then they turned their rein,For vengeance against Dastan drove the train.
News came that Sahm, Nariman’s son, was dead,And Zal was building him a tomb instead.
Afrasiab rejoiced at news so bright;His fortune woke from sleep before his sight.
He came to Dehestan across the plain,And raised his tent confronting Nohzar’s train.
Who could have numbered all that vast array?Four hundred thousand filled the field that day.
The sand and stone seemed boiling where they massed;Like ants and locusts through the wilds they passed.
With Nohzar, one hundred forty thousand strong,His mounted warriors formed a battle throng.
Afrasiab surveyed his ranks by night;He called a swift hiyun, prepared for flight.
He wrote to Pashang: “Fortune comes to hand;What we have sought now answers our command.
If Nohzar’s army breaks beneath our feet,They are our quarry, trampled in defeat.
And Sahm has followed Manuchehr in death;No more can he ride out with living breath.
In Iran Sahm alone inspired my fear;Now he is gone, the road to vengeance clear.
Old Zal now builds his father’s tomb and weeps;No foot or wing for war the mourner keeps.
By now Shamasas sits in Nimruz crowned,With world-illuming splendor spread around.
In every task, the proper moment choose;A wise and loyal friend’s advice then use.
If when the moment comes a man delays,No equal chance returns in later days.”
The swift hiyun seemed winged across the night,And reached the lord whose farr shone clear and bright.
B1.11
Nohzar Falls to Afrasiab
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Enraged by his losses, Afrasiab has Nohzar dragged before him and beheads him with his own hand. Aghriras saves the other captives, who are sent in chains to Sari, and Afrasiab rides to Rey and sets the Kayanian crown on his own head.
36 couplets · Afrasiab named 3 times · in the full poem
When word arrived of chiefs and warriors slain,It struck Afrasiab with bitter pain.
His cheeks were wet, his heart was filled with grief:“I hold Nohzar, yet none can grant relief.
My captains fall while he remains in chains,While blood of chiefs still stains the open plains.”
Enraged, he cried: “Where is the captive king?Let Viseh’s vengeance on his blood now spring.”
He called an executioner and said:“Bring him before me; he shall soon be dead.”
When Nohzar heard, he knew his time was near;His day had shortened and his end was clear.
A clamorous troop came shouting to his place,To drag the captive Shah to death’s embrace.
They bound his arms with cords drawn hard and tight,And dragged him forth before the tyrant’s sight.
From tent to plain they brought him in disgrace,Barefoot, bareheaded, fortune turned its face.
Afrasiab fixed on him his burning gaze,While ancient hatred set his heart ablaze.
Afrasiab spoke of old feud and hate,Of Salm and Tur, and vengeance long in wait.
All reverence due to kings he cast aside,With words of scorn and harsh, relentless pride:
“You merit every ill that now draws near.”He called for steel, his purpose stark and clear.
The sword was brought; he struck the crowned Shah dead,And with one stroke cut off his royal head.
His body was contemptuously castInto the dust; his royal days were past.
Thus Manuchehr’s descendant was overthrown,And Iran stood bereft of crown and throne.
O wise man, seeking what the world may yield,Let not your heart by greed be wrapped and sealed.
The throne and crown have known a thousand kings,Who, just like you, once ruled such earthly things.
You reached the place toward which you hurried fast;What you desired has come, and now is past.
What do you seek from this dark earth of grief,That sends you back in want, without relief?
If turning heaven strips your saddle away,Your pillow will be dust when ends your day.
The captives next were dragged before the blade,And begged for mercy, trembling and afraid.
Then wise Aghriras saw them bound in fear;His heart flared up like fire as he drew near.
“Shall guiltless heads fall here at your command,Though none has raised a weapon by his hand?”
He came before the king with urgent cries,And pleaded for the captives’ threatened lives:
“These chiefs wear neither helmet nor cuirass;They stand outside the field where war-lines pass.
To slaughter captives brings no king renown;A lofty place is thus brought basely down.
Give them to me, and I will hold them fast,Still bound, so none may flee me at the last.
A cave shall be their prison, dark and deep;And wise men shall be set their watch to keep.
In Sari let them wake to grief and shame;Withdraw your hand from blood and end this claim.”
At last he yielded, stayed the killing hand,And spared the lives of that defeated band.
He gave command they should in bonds be cast;To Sari, chained and humbled, they were passed.
Then from Dehestan’s plains his army wheeled;To Rey he rode to make the whole world yield.
His army wrapped the earth in dust from sight,His chargers sweated in their forward flight.
He set the Kayanian crown upon his head,And dinars from his open hand were spread.
He ruled as Shah with vengeance in his breast,And thoughts of war that never gave him rest.
B9.19
Afrasiab Is Troubled by a Dream
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After the feast Afrasiab wakes screaming. He tells Garsivaz his dream: a desert of serpents, his army slaughtered, himself dragged in chains before Kavus, and a fourteen-year-old youth beside the throne who cuts him in two. Garsivaz urges him to summon the dream-readers.
36 couplets · Afrasiab named 2 times · in the full poem
In joy the feast went on until the light,And earth’s bright Eye withdrew at fall of night.
Then came the hour when sleep and stillness spread;Afrasiab reclined upon his bed.
One watch had passed beneath the darkened sky,When Afrasiab woke with dreadful cry.
The startled slaves leapt up and raised a shout,And through the palace panic spread about.
News reached Garsivaz: “The royal throneHas darkened; haste; the Shah lies overthrown.”
He found the monarch prostrate on the ground,Then clasped him close and wrapped his arms around.
“Come, tell your brother what has shaken you;Reveal the cause, and tell me what is true.”
The king replied: “Ask nothing of me here;Until my reason clears, do not draw near.
But take me now and hold me to your breast,Until my troubled senses come to rest.”
At last his reason came to him; the dinOf cries and tumult at the door rolled in.
They lit the lamps; he mounted up his throne,Still trembling like a branch by tempest blown.
Then Garsivaz spoke gently from his place:“Now tell the wonder that has changed your face.”
He said: “No man has dreamed so dire a sight;No sleeping eye has known so deep a fright.
Nor have I heard from anyone, old or young,A tale like what tonight before me sprung.
I saw a wilderness where serpents crept,While dust rose thick and eagles heavenward swept.
The stony ground lay parched, forsaken, dry,As though the eye of Heaven passed it by.
And there upon the plain my army lay,My tents drawn round in ordered close array.
A dust-filled wind arose with sudden sound,And struck my royal standard to the ground.
Blood ran in streams across the battle-mound;My tents and royal pavilion crashed around.
Beyond all count my warriors lay dead,Their bodies cast aside, each lacking head.
Then Iran’s army swept with storming speed,Some bore long spears, some bows upon the steed.
Each spear held high a severed head in view,And at each rider’s side another swung too.
A hundred thousand spear-bearers in blackRode at my throne in one sustained attack.
They drove me from my throne and bound my hands,And dragged me captive through their hostile bands.
I looked about me for my kinsmen near,But none stood by me in that flood of fear.
A fierce, renowned champion came and caughtMe where I stood; to Kavus I was brought.
A throne before me like the bright moon shone,And Kavus sat in glory on the throne.
Beside him sat a youth, moon-bright of face,A radiant boy of noble form and grace.
No more than fourteen years had marked his age,Yet youthful fire already burned with rage.
He saw me bound and thundered like a cloud,His rising fury breaking fierce and loud.
With one sword-stroke he cleft my waist in two,And cut my living body cleanly through.
My cry rose out beneath the dream’s dark sweep;The pain itself awoke me from my sleep.”
Then Garsivaz replied: “This dream may proveThe very thing your loyal friends approve.
Your purpose, crown, and throne shall firmly stand;Your foes’ good fortune fall beneath your hand.
We need a man who understands each dream,And long has studied what such visions mean.
Call wakeful-hearted Mobadan to hear,Astrologers and sages, wise and clear.”
B9.33
Siavash Displays His Prowess before Afrasiab
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Afrasiab tests his guest at polo, archery and the hunt. Siavash hits the ball out of sight, strings a bow no Turanian can bend, pierces the target and cuts a Gur-e-Khar in equal halves. The king grows fonder, but some Turanians grow uneasy.
105 couplets · Afrasiab named 10 times · in the full poem
One night the king to Siavash then said,“Prepare at dawn, when darkness first has fled.
With ball and chowgan to the field we go,And laugh awhile, and let our prowess show.
No man alive, they say, can match your play,Or meet your skill at polo on the day.”
Siavash replied: “May fortune guard your reign,And keep you safe from injury and pain.
All kings look up to you in every art,And seek the skill in which you stand apart.
My brightest day depends upon your will;From you I take alike both good and ill.”
Afrasiab said: “My son, be strong and bold,Victorious till the turning years grow old.
You are a Shah’s son, ornament of throne,The Kayan crown and army’s strength your own.”
At dawn they rode out laughing to the plain,And galloped freely, each with loosened rein.
The king then said: “Choose riders for your side,And let the ball reveal which skills abide.
You take that side; this side shall fall to mine,And split the gathered riders in a line.”
Siavash said: “How should I strive with you?I cannot stand against you, tried and true.
Choose others to contend with you; but IWill keep beside you as the hours go by.
Among your men I ride, a comrade tried;Across this field I stand and ride beside.”
The king was pleased and laughed to hear him speak,And judged all others’ boasts as hollow, weak.
He said: “By Kavus’s life and head this day,You shall contend with me in polo play.
Display your strength before the gathered band,So none may doubt the choice that I have planned.
Let all give praise; may joy bloom on my face.”Siavash replied: “Your word shall rule this place.
The field, the men, the game are yours to lead;Command, and I obey in word and deed.”
Afrasiab then chose his champions well:Kulbad and Pulad, horsemen known to excel.
With Piran, Jahan, Garsivaz the bold,With Nastihan and Houman fierce and cold.
Then to Siavash the king assigned his men:Brave Ruyin and Shideh rode with him then.
Andariman and Arjasp joined his side,Both lion-hearted, masters of the ride.
Siavash said: “Will any rider dareTo face the ball against me anywhere?
These all are yours, a company arrayed;Must I alone guard chowgan, without aid?
Permit me then to call men of my own,Iranian riders skilled and widely known.
They shall be mine in polo’s ordered play,As side meets side according to its way.”
The king agreed and granted his request,And gave consent to choose whom he thought best.
Siavash chose seven, hand-picked and blessed,All proven riders fit for such a test.
Tabira thundered; dust rose through the air,And shouts of riders echoed everywhere.
The sanj and ney rang out with brazen sound,Till all the field seemed moving on the ground.
Afrasiab struck first and sent the ballSo high it seemed to scale the sky’s vast wall.
Siavash spurred his steed and, swift and light,Struck it aloft before it could alight.
He struck it hard; it soared beyond their view,And none could trace the path on which it flew.
The king commanded: “Bring another ball,”And had it set before the prince and all.
He raised and kissed the ball before the crowd,The ney and koust together sounded loud.
He mounted then a fresh and eager steed,And tossed the ball in hand with practiced heed.
Then with his chowgan struck it toward the moon,As though the sky would claim the ball too soon.
The ball itself then vanished from their sight,As though the heavens drew it toward their height.
No rider there could match him in the race,Nor any shine with such a joyful face.
The king laughed loud, the nobles cried in praise,And marveled at the prince before their gaze.
They cried: “No horseman like him have we known!No rider with such mastery has shown!”
Afrasiab said: “Such prowess marks the oneOn whom divine farr shines beneath the sun.
His beauty, farr, and skill make one thing clear:To see him far surpasses what we hear.”
A throne was set beside the playing green;The king sat down while all stood watching keen.
Siavash sat beside him on the throne,And joy upon the king’s bright face was shown.
He said: “The field is open, all is free;Now play, and show your prowess, all to see.”
The men of Iran and Turan now engaged,And all the plain with eager contest raged.
From side to side the ball was seized and won,Each took from each before the play was done.
But when the Turks pressed on with growing heat,And strove too hard to see Iran’s defeat,
The Iranians seized the ball before their eyes,And left the Turks confounded with surprise.
Siavash frowned, and to his men he turned,And spoke Pahlevani, while purpose burned:
“Is this a game, or do you seek for war,While we stand here and press the contest sore?
When near the goal, then let the ball go by,And give the Turks their chance to score thereby.”
His riders eased, and slower now they pressed,And drew their horses back, and gave them rest.
The Turks seized back the ball and rode like fire;Afrasiab saw what checked Iranian ire.
He said: “A truthful man once told me so:The prince has arts no other man can show.
With bow and arrow none can match his art,When shoulders open and the shafts depart.”
The prince then took his Kayan bow, and raisedIt from its case before them as they gazed.
The king then asked to see the mighty bow,And had a servant bring it forth to show.
He took it, marveled at its strength and size,And praised the bow before the watching eyes.
He gave it then to Garsivaz: “Now try,And bend and string this bow before my eye.”
But all in vain; his utmost could not bringThat stubborn bow to bend, or brace the string.
Siavash took it, bent it with his hand,And strung it smoothly, smiling where he scanned.
The king declared: “Such bows demand the mightOf youthful arms to bend and string them right.
In youth I too had strength; my arm was bold,But age has stolen it; I have grown old.
No man in Iran or Turan, in war’s days,Could wield this bow and win such lasting praise.
Save him whose chest and shoulders bear such might;No other arm could bend and string it tight.”
A target then was planted on the plain;Siavash mounted, gathering the rein.
He pressed his thighs and drove his charger fast,Then drew and loosed a shaft as he rode past.
It struck the center, full before their gaze;Then he a four-feathered shaft did raise.
Again he drew and loosed with steady aim,And struck the very center, to acclaim.
The target, twice transfixed in one swift ride,Was pierced like some fine sieve from side to side.
He turned his rein and toward the right he tore,And struck again the mark he struck before.
The bow slung on his arm, he set his pace,And rode back toward the monarch’s watching place.
Siavash dismounted; Afrasiab said:“Your lineage shines in every shaft you sped.”
From there they rode toward the palace high,With joyful hearts beneath the evening sky.
They sat, called wine, and summoned song and art,And brought in tuneful minstrels to take part.
They drank and gave the prince their glad applause,And drank to Siavash with joyful cause.
Then Afrasiab gave gifts manifold:A steed, its trappings, throne, and crown of gold.
With cloth so rare no eye had seen its kind,A robe of finest workmanship designed.
With dinars, bags of silver, jewels stored,With rubies and turquoise and golden hoard.
With servants, slaves, and one resplendent cup,With glowing rubies filled completely up.
Afrasiab ordered all the gifts arrayed,Counted in full, then to the prince conveyed.
Throughout Turan affection for him grew,And every loyal heart to him turned true.
He ordered each to bring his wealth in view,And spread the tables when the gifts were through.
He said: “In all things hold him as your lord,And let your service be his due reward.”
Afrasiab said: “Come hunt with me one day,And drive all grief and troubled thoughts away.”
Siavash said: “Whenever you would ride,I follow where you lead and stand beside.”
One day they rode; the king brought hawks to fly,While hunting cheetahs bounded swiftly by.
From Iran and from Turan riders came,And all assembled, eager for the game.
The prince saw Gur-e-Khar upon the plain,And darted forth, and gave his steed the rein.
His rein grew light, his stirrup pressed with weight,Through hill and hollow flew his charging gait.
He struck a Gur-e-Khar and clove it clean,His flashing blade cut through with edge so keen.
He judged the halves and found their balance true,Not one grain’s weight could part the equal two.
The king and all his train looked on amazed,And praised the strength and skill the prince displayed.
They cried: “What master stands before our eyes!”And gazed in silent wonder and surprise.
They said: “From Iran trouble comes today;This prince may bring us grief along the way.
Our chiefs are pressed, their names are brought down low;Perhaps against the Shah to war we go.”
Through cave and mountain, over plain he sped,With sword and spear and arrow game lay dead.
At every place he raised a mound of prey,And left the army fed along the way.
Then back they rode toward Afrasiab’s hall,With hearts made light and gladness shared by all.
The king in grief or pleasure turned to none,But Siavash alone, his chosen one.
To Jahan or Garsivaz he spoke no thought,Nor shared the hidden counsel that he sought.
With Siavash alone he found delight;His lips would open into laughter bright.
B9.53
Siavash Is Taken by Afrasiab
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Siavash rides towards Iran but meets Afrasiab’s army. He refuses to fight his king, and the Turanians kill his thousand Iranians. Wounded by arrows, he is bound by Gurvi. Pilsam urges Afrasiab to wait for Piran, but Garsivaz, Damur and Gurvi urge death, and the king wavers.
106 couplets · Afrasiab named 5 times · in the full poem
When all was done, he marched with chiefs aligned,Toward Iran, stunned by fate’s perverse design.
His cheeks were veiled by tears of blood-red hue,He mounted a rested steed and onward drew.
He bade the Iranians gird themselves to go,And turned toward Iran with hearts sunk low.
A farsang and a half he rode ahead,Then saw Afrasiab’s army widely spread.
Their ranks stood armed in jowshans on the field,With sword and gorz and every battle-shield.
He buckled on his jowshan; then he knew:“Garsivaz spoke the truth; the war is due.”
Then Siavash felt fear sting him like a knife,Yet would not hide himself to save his life.
He held his ground until the force drew near,And stood where all the gathering ranks could peer.
Each band looked on the other face to face,Though once no hatred stirred within that place.
The Turanian riders feared the prince’s hand,And checked their steeds before the waiting band.
The Iranians raised a ringing cry:“O king of kings, why should we tamely die?
Why let them drag us helpless through the field?This is no trifle; honor must not yield.
Let them behold the strength our warriors bring,And learn the valor serving Iran’s king.”
But Siavash replied: “This fight has no just ground;No rightful cause for battle can be found.
To war against my sovereign brings disgrace,And stains the honor of my ancient race.
The turning sky is bent on my defeat;Though innocent, I fall through dark deceit.
I cannot strike in bold attack today;No man can stand where God has barred the way.
The sage has said in counsel firm and true:‘Do not resist when fortune turns on you.’”
Then Siavash addressed the Turan king:“O noble lord, whose virtues brightly ring,
Why bring your armies forth to threaten me?What wrong in all my service do you see?
Such war will plunge both realms in deep unrest,And fill the world with grief from east to west.”
Then Garsivaz replied in scornful tone:“Do such soft words become a prince well known?
If you are guiltless, why come clad in steelBefore your king? Such acts your guilt reveal.
No man receives his sovereign dressed for strife,With bow and jowshan, armed to guard his life.”
Then Siavash replied: “Your words untrueHave led me from the path I should pursue.
O base revenge-seeker, false at heart,To stir the Shah has always been your art.
You told me that the king was filled with hate;Now thousands of the guiltless share my fate.
The seed you sowed will ripen into fruit;Your punishment will spring from that same root.
Your words misled me, brought the Shah to rage,And innocent heads must pay your vengeance’s wage.”
Then to the king he said: “Hold back your hand;Do not spill guiltless blood throughout the land.
To shed the innocent brings lasting shame;Do not condemn both kingdoms to the same.
Do not cast Turan and yourself asideBecause one traitor turned your heart from right.”
But Garsivaz, whose heart was false and cold,Grew fiercer as the prince his plea retold,
And cried aloud: “O king, what makes you stay?Why parley now? Let action rule the day.”
The high sun rose while Afrasiab heard,And Garsivaz still pressed each bitter word.
He ordered all his men to draw their blades,Their cry like Judgment thundered through the glades.
But Siavash kept faith with solemn vow;No sword was raised, no spear was leveled now.
Nor did he let a single man advanceTo strike the foe or take a hostile stance.
Then cruel Afrasiab gave commandTo bring fierce ruin on that Iranian band:
“Strike every warrior down beneath the sword,And let their blood across the plain be poured.”
A thousand and more Iranians formed the throng,All proven warriors, steadfast, battle-strong.
They all were struck and wounded in the strife,Turanian blades deprived them all of life.
Yet none among the Turanians dared draw near,Or lay a hand upon the prince through fear.
Then fifty, sixty arrows crossed the air,From every side they struck him without care.
Amid the clash, the prince fell from his steed,His wounds from sword and spear had made him bleed.
He rolled upon dark earth as drunk with pain,Then Gurvi Zereh bound him on the plain.
A halter round his neck was fastened tight,His hands behind him bound with all their might.
Blood streamed along his cheeks, once bright as bloom;He had not known so dark and harsh a doom.
The guards then drove him onward on his feet,With troops around him closing ranks complete.
They led him toward the city he had made,Toward Siavash-Gard, now lost and betrayed.
Then Afrasiab commanded them: “GoAnd drag him from the road before the foe.
On barren rock where not a blade has grown,Cut off his head where grass has never shown.
Let his blood pour upon the burning ground;Delay no more, nor let your fear be found.
Perform the deed; let no compassion stay;Strike with the khanjar, take his life away.”
The soldiers said: “What fault have you discerned?What wrong of his has such a sentence earned?
What has he done that merits such a flood?Why wash your hands within his guiltless blood?
The crown and ivory throne would mourn his fate;Why plant a seed whose fruit will ripen hate?
In days of peace sow not such poisoned seed,Whose fruit must ripen into grief and need.”
But Garsivaz, consumed by bitter spite,Stood with the killers, urging them to smite.
The old resentment burned within his breast,And Siavash’s blood alone would give him rest.
Then Pilsam, Piran’s younger brother, rose,A thoughtful warrior skilled among his foes.
With measured voice and disciplined command,He urged the Shah to judge with steady hand:
“This branch will yield no fruit but pain and grief;I heard the sages teach a wiser belief.
A calm heart seldom bears remorseful care;Wise counsel heals the troubled mind’s despair.
Haste and evil are Ahriman’s way;Remorse of soul and body-pain will stay.
It is not right to strike your subject dead,And swiftly sever such a royal head.
Bind him and keep him till the passing daysHave taught you what is hidden in these ways.
When wisdom’s wind has cooled your troubled mind,Then judge what fate his head and life should find.
Do not act rashly; haste brings later woe,And seeds regret wherever passions grow.
Do not cut down a head fit for a crown,Nor cast a future ruler lifeless down.
If without cause you strike this guiltless head,King Kavus will venge him when he is dead.
And Rostam, who has raised him with his care,Will rise for vengeance, terrible to dare.
Remember that keen diamond-edged blade,By which the world may be in ruin laid.
Recall Iran’s great chiefs, whose battle-criesHave shaken earth beneath the wheeling skies.
Think of Fariborz of the royal line,Whose courage in the field will brightly shine.
Think of great Rostam, lion in attack,Before whose charge whole armies stagger back.
Then Gudarz, Gorgin, Farhad, Tus the bold,Will rise in wrath, a vengeance none can hold.
The plains will fill with spearmen rank on rank,Till all Turan recoils before their flank.
Not I, nor all your armies tried and true,Could face the wrath that Iran would pursue.
Soon Piran too will come at break of day,And you will hear what he has yet to say.
No urgent cause compels this fatal deed;Do not sow vengeance through the world as seed.
Delay this act, for haste will surely bringThe fall and ruin of your realm, O king.”
These words moved Afrasiab to reflect,And made him pause before the deed took effect.
But Garsivaz, still shameless, hard of heart,Pressed him once more to end what he did start:
“Do not abandon what you have begunBecause a youth has spoken, princely one.
The plain is filled with vultures feeding stillOn Iran’s dead, all struck down by your will.
If vengeance frightens you, enough is slain;The blood already spilled should ease that pain.
From Rum and Chin, both sword and gorz shall rise,And battle’s violence spread before all eyes.
Was not the wrong you wrought already great?Why heed each counsel now and hesitate?
You cut the serpent’s tail and wounded head;Will you now clothe it richly in diba instead?
If you should spare him, I will leave this landAnd die in exile, far from your command.”
Then Damur came, with Gurvi Zereh near,Both shaken still, but speaking without fear:
“Do not delay because of one man’s fate;To hesitate now would be far too late.
Attend instead to Garsivaz’s plea,And strike your foe before he can break free.
You set the trap and took him in your hand;Now strike at once and let your purpose stand.
The head of Iran now rests in your power;Break hostile hearts before the changing hour.
His army lies destroyed; judge, and bewareWhat course the Shah should follow in this snare.
Had no first wrong been laid upon his name,Then water still might wash away this shame.
Now better that he nowhere live at all,In open sight or hidden beyond call.”
The king replied: “No treason do I see;No crime that calls for death appears to me.
Yet seers have warned that danger still may rise,And through this man bring grief before my eyes.
If I should shed his blood, from Turan’s plainA cloud of dust will rise like darkened rain.
That dust will veil the sun and dim our view,And cloud the judgment of the wisest too.
Pain, grief, and bondage wait for us ahead;Yet freeing him may bring worse harm instead.
Though killing him will weigh upon my mind,To let him live may prove a worse design.”
No sage nor schemer knows what fate may send,Or where the turning heavens mean to bend.
B10.9
Afrasiab Flees before Rostam
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Afrasiab breaks the Iranian right. Rostam charges him, kills his horse and nearly seizes him, but Houman strikes Rostam with a gorz and Afrasiab escapes. The Turanians are routed, and Tus teases Rostam about the blow.
47 couplets · Afrasiab named 9 times · in the full poem
Afrasiab said: “Our fortune fails in fight;What once stood firm now sinks from strength to blight.
If one man falters where the armies meet,No ground remains for us, no safe retreat.
Today take leopard-counsel for the fray,Rise from all sides and bar the foemen’s way;
Set ambush round them, press them hard and fast,And hurl your spears until the day is past.”
He left the center, vengeance in his heart,And struck at Tus and tore his line apart;
He struck down chiefs; Tus, shaken by the sight,Gave ground at last and turned away from fight.
A scout came through the fighting to his side,And told how Iran’s right had turned aside:
“The day goes ill; our right is bathed in gore,Our banner falls; our line can stand no more.”
Then Rostam from the center forward pressedWith Faramarz and armored troops abreast;
Before him rose a wall of shielded men,Their hostile hearts were set against him then.
All were Afrasiab’s kin, assembled near,Their hearts on vengeance, armed and free of fear.
He struck down many of that hostile horde,While Tus and Faramarz beside him warred.
Afrasiab beheld the violet sign,And Kaveh’s banner cutting through the line,
“This is Rostam, Nariman’s mighty seed,Mightiest champion known for warlike deed.”
Like some war-leopard raging for the kill,He gripped the reins and rode with iron will.
When Rostam saw the dark advancing flag,He sprang, a lion loosed upon a stag;
He gave swift Rakhsh the rein and drove him hard,And charged through every rank without regard.
He closed with Afrasiab in the fight,Blood streamed like water from his arrow’s bite.
An arrow with a willow-leaf point flew,And pierced his helmet’s crown as it drove through.
His spear drove hard against the hero’s chest,And pierced the leather binding at his vest,
But Babr-e Bayan turned the spear away;Then Rostam roared and drove into the fray.
He drove his spear into the charger’s flank;The wounded horse beneath the thrust then sank.
It crashed to earth beneath the fatal blow,And hurled Afrasiab from the saddle low.
He reached to seize him by the belt and stayHis road of war before he fled away;
But Houman saw and raised his gorz on high,Then charged at Rostam with a battle cry.
He struck the hero’s shoulder with the blow,Both armies roared as iron thundered low.
Then Rostam wheeled to see who dealt the stroke;His hold on Afrasiab at once broke.
Afrasiab escaped and found another steed,And mounted it at once with desperate speed.
The chiefs roared out; their heavy gorz all rang,And iron answered iron with a clang.
Then Rostam drove swift Rakhsh at Houman’s rear,His anger hot, his heavy spear held near.
He chased Houman, furious in the fight,But could not reach him in his headlong flight.
His destined hour had not yet come, and soFate shielded Houman from the hero’s blow.
Then men of Iran gathered at his side,To guard him from each blade the press might hide.
By hundred stratagems Houman broke through,From Rostam’s dragon-grasp the king he drew.
Once Afrasiab was safely drawn away,Houman withdrew; Rostam still sought the fray.
And Tus came near and asked him, half in jest:“Did that Gur-e-Khar strike hard upon your chest?”
He said: “No anvil forged nor stone could standSuch crushing force in such a warrior’s hand;
Yet when that gorz descended in the fray,It seemed mere wax against my chest today.”
When Afrasiab turned and fled the field,His heart still raged, though forced at last to yield.
A roar arose; spears climbed into the cloud,The fleeing plain resounded fierce and loud.
The field lay heaped with wounded men and dead,Like tulips over saffron earth turned red.
The horses’ hooves went deep through blood and gore,The elephants’ feet crimsoned more and more.
The Turanians fled like wind across the plain,While Rostam’s arm dealt justice in their train.
Like a raging dragon Rostam sped,Three farsangs after those who turned and fled.
Then back he turned, his victory complete;For turning heaven opposed the foe’s retreat.
They turned to camp with plunder richly won;Their laden ranks bore spoil when war was done.
The plain held iron, silver, gold, and spear,Horse-trappings, salich, belts lay scattered near.
B14.5
Piran Comes before Rostam
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Rostam names himself to Piran and brings greetings from Kay Khosrow and Farangis. Piran pours out his grief for Siavash and his divided loyalties, and pleads for peace. Rostam demands the guilty men or Piran’s defection; Piran secretly chooses war.
78 couplets · Afrasiab named 6 times · in the full poem
Piran departed full of pain and fear,His heart torn deep by Rostam’s doings here.
He neared Iran’s line and then cried, “O chief,O lover of the fray, attend my grief.
I heard that you had called for me apart,From all Turan’s armed men, to speak your heart.
So from my lines I came to yours today,To learn what purpose drew me from the fray.”
The news reached Rostam: from Turan’s arrayA warrior had approached him on his way.
He came to meet him where the armies stand,An iron helm on head, before his band.
He asked, “What is your name? What thoughts abideWithin your heart that bring you to our side?”
The other said, “I am Piran by name,Afrasiab’s sepahbod, known to fame.
Your gracious words, which Houman brought to me,Have drawn my heart and brought me here to see.
Now tell me which Iranian chief you are,Whose might has drawn me from the ranks afar.”
He said, “Rostam of Zabul speaks to you,With gorz and Kabuli khanjar in view.”
When noble Piran learned that Rostam stood,He left his horse and bowed as honor should.
Rostam said, “Greetings from bright Kay Khosrow,O Pahlevan, whose noble virtues show,
His mother, Afrasiab’s daughter, too,Sends greetings; every night she dreams of you.”
Piran replied, “From Yazdan greetings flow,And from our gathered ranks to you they go.
May God, who gives all good, His blessings send;May heaven’s wheel beneath your signet bend.
Thanks be to God, my refuge, for this sight:I see you in your place, your spirit bright.
Zal, rider left from ancient kings of old,Faramarz, Zavareh; are they well and bold?
May this world never feel the want of those;Do health and fortune guard them from their woes?
If you take no offense, I shall relateA lesser man’s complaint against the great.
A garden tree I planted; from its rootCame leaves of blood and colocynth for fruit.
I watered it with tears through years of strife;In it I placed my treasure and my life.
Though once my treasure, life, and joy it stood,It brought me bane instead of healing good.
For Siavash esteemed me as his sire,His shield from harm, his shelter from the fire.
I gave my daughter and a province then,To make my race shine bright among great men.
But some have slain him and my daughter too,As though such bitter payment were my due.
Great cares and anguish from the king and throngHave bent my spirit under sorrow long.
God knows my truth throughout the world’s broad frame,Though calling Him to witness brings me shame.
Though many years have passed, and I have heardWise teachers speak their counsel, word by word,
The mourning in my house will never cease;Fire from my soul affords me no release.
My eyes pour blood where tears should find their way;Physicians tend me through both night and day.
This deed has left me harmed, my spirit tired;The heavens have not moved as I desired;
Before dark nights my eyes no shame can know;So much hot blood my cries have made to flow.
When news of Siavash’s death came to light,I lost all power to act, for wrong or right.
Between two kings and realms I stand in pain,Oppressed by helplessness and bitter strain.
I risked my life when Farangis faced death;Her father meant to take her final breath.
I hid her safely, far from royal sight,And never turned my back upon her plight.
Yet she now seeks my life, my peace, my all,As though I were her foe, condemned to fall.
All grief am I, O Pahlevan of might;Both sides assail me, each declaring right.
I have no way to flee Afrasiab’s snare,No other home or refuge anywhere.
My treasure, lands, and herds concern me still;I see no way to leave them, try what I will.
I have my sons and womenfolk in care;Such bonds and burdens are each mortal’s share.
When Afrasiab summons men to arms,I lose all rest beneath the war’s alarms.
Against my will I lead the armies out;I may not disobey, delay, or doubt.
Now show me pity in this hour of need;This is no time for warlike show or deed.
Had I no grief except for Pilsam slain,That single wound would fill my heart with pain.
Yet other gallant youths have also died,Who never had their fill of battle’s tide.
Now for my very life I tremble here;Why speak of sons and goods that I hold dear?
By God, Conqueror, Pahlevan, I plead,Let no resentment mark this hour of need.
Bear no grudge against my kin; keep God in mind,The Maker of the world and all mankind.
By Siavash’s soul, I would welcome death insteadOf jowshan, sword, and helmet on my head.
If our two armies clash upon the plain,Your eyes will see great mountains of the slain.
From Shakn, Kashan, Saklab, Hind they came,From lands to Sind’s great sea, all free of blame.
Though brought as soldiers to this field of strife,They neither shed his blood nor sought his life.
Peace with me serves us better far than war;Do not pursue this grievance any more.
Speak out your mind; far wiser are you than I,And mightier in battle beneath the sky.”
Rostam replied not as Piran desired,Nor gave the answer that his hopes required:
“Since I came here, armed ready for the fight,With all the Shah’s brave warriors in their might,
I have seen you act with truth in all you do,And seek that all Turan be truthful too.
The leopard knows that war and strife are ill;The rocks and mountains hold that knowledge still.
Yet when the king of kings seeks vengeance, thenWe rain our arrows as befits brave men.
Two roads to peace lie open to your view;Consider which is suitable for you.
First, send to Kay Khosrow in binding chainsAll those whose crimes have brought these bloody pains.
Then he may choose to end this bloody strife,And spare the armies further loss of life.
Send those who share the guilt for Siavash slain,Though absent from the battle on this plain.
Or else prepare yourself; come at my side,And stand before our Shah with humbled pride.
As for the wealth and goods you leave behind,Our Shah will grant you tenfold of their kind.
Forget the camp of Turan, all its gear;Let none of what you leave detain you here.”
Piran reflected, “What a tangled thing:To leave Turan and go before that king!
He asks for guilty men to bear the blame;He would bring low, in Siavash’s name,
Afrasiab’s great nobles, all his kin,With thrones and wealth, and rank to glory in.
How could I speak of such a boundless quest?No head or foot defines this wild request.
Brave Houman, Lahhak, Farshidvard would fall;They brought Gudarz such grief beyond recall.
All are involved; there is no course to show;This water has no channel where to flow.
I must devise a fitting course today;The road of war must be my chosen way.”
Then Piran said, “O Pahlevan, may youStay young and glad, with spirit bright and true.
To Manshur, Shangul, and the Khan I will go,And tell the chiefs these words, that they may know.
By hiyun I will send my words to shakeAfrasiab from sleep and make him wake.”
C4.10
The Armies Meet in Battle
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The armies join. Gharan wears down Jahan, Gostaham drives on the right, and days of slaughter follow. Afrasiab spreads his ranks to get clear of the towered elephants. Khosrow prays behind his lines, kills Ila and unhorses Ustukila, and Afrasiab is pulled away at dusk.
125 couplets · Afrasiab named 7 times · in the full poem
When Sol in Taurus lifted up his light,And larks were singing over plains grown bright,
The kousts rang out, resounding through the air,With horns and brazen karnays everywhere.
Then Jahan led thirty thousand swordsmen bold,Equipped for war, their hearts like tempered gold.
Khosrow beheld them and gave swift command;Gharan came forward with his veteran band.
He left the center, mountain-like in might,And wore brave Jahan down amid the fight.
Then Gostaham, brave son of Nohzar’s line,Rushed right, his battle-standard raised to shine.
The horsemen’s dust spread violet through the air;Below were troops, above them banners fair.
Khosrow stood firm within the center’s heart;Nor did Afrasiab from his center part.
A battle joined whose like no chief could tell,No warrior knew its equal, fierce and fell.
They slew so many of the Turkish band,A sea of blood spread out across the land.
Till darkness fell and sight began to fade,In helm and jowshan fought the lines arrayed.
When brave Gharan had won that bitter fray,The valiant Jahan’s fortune fell away.
When on the sun’s high throne the moon shone bright,The warriors then withdrew beneath the night.
Khosrow rejoiced in all Iran’s success,Whose warriors had prevailed in battle’s press.
All night they armed for battle; no reposeOr food was theirs until the sun arose.
When Sol from Cancer rose, the world grew rifeWith battle’s gathering roar and newborn strife.
The bands of both realms formed their lines to fight,And every lip foamed white with wrath and spite.
Khosrow, attended by a servant tried,Withdrew behind the rear and stepped aside.
He dismounted there and thanked the Maker’s grace,Then laid upon the darkened dust his face.
He said: “O Judge, all-holy, just, and true,The wrongs that I have borne are known to You.
For many days I bore the wrong he wrought;Requite in blood the suffering he brought.
Guide me, oppressed by tyranny and wrong,And let Your justice make my spirit strong.”
Then grief and vengeance set his heart aflame,His hatred fixed on those of Zadeshm’s name.
He reached the army’s center in his might,And set his gleaming helmet firm and tight.
The battle-cry arose; the horns replied,Tabiras and brazen karnays thundered wide.
The opposing forces marched like mountains vast,Troop after troop, as through the field they passed.
With Jahan and Afrasiab at its heart,The army seemed a sea in every part.
As both great armies marched across the ground,The hills and plains themselves seemed to be bound.
Dust and the eagle-feathered arrows’ flight,Their diamond points, concealed the sun from sight.
So loud the horns, so thick the dust that rose,So fierce the warriors’ cries against their foes,
Iron and rock and mountains seemed to flow;The nahang and the leopard melted so.
Earth heaved; the air was filled with crashing sound;The roar could split the ears of lions round.
The world seemed Ahriman’s from end to end;And heaven seemed an enemy, no friend.
And everywhere the slaughtered lay in heaps,Iran and Turan fallen where war reaps.
The sand was blood and severed hands and feet;Earth’s heart shook hard beneath the horses’ beat.
The open ground beneath the trampling forceSeemed linen stiff with blood beneath each horse.
Afrasiab’s warriors moved across the plain,Like ships that sail upon the rolling main.
They struck the archers’ towers, citadels high,That rode on elephants beneath the sky.
The beasts stood like a fortress in the way,Before the center of Iran’s array.
Within their towers the archers held their place,And met the coming warriors face to face.
A rain of arrows poured from tower and frame;The cries of battle rose as foemen came.
The spearmen and the elephants came on,With countless warriors from the center drawn.
Two farsang off, Afrasiab surveyedThe towered elephants, their ranks displayed.
He brought his own huge elephants ahead;The world grew dark; the last of light had fled.
He shouted: “Warriors of my royal side,Why crowd the beasts and press so close beside?
Your idle troops spread farsangs all around;Leave tower and elephant, take open ground.
Spread right and left, and widen out the fight;Withdraw beyond the center, left and right.”
He ordered Jahan, no novice in the fray,To leave his post and ride without delay.
With mighty men, ten thousand horse in all,All lancers armed and ready at his call,
Towrag, a warlike elephant in might,Sped left with noble warriors to the fight.
When Kay Khosrow perceived the Turks’ attack,And saw their dust turn all the sunlight black,
He turned to Samkunan and all his band,Those battle-lions fierce in heart and hand.
“Shine on the left like Sol in Aries bright,”He said, and sent them flashing into fight.
They rode forth with ten thousand noble men,Young lancers eager for the strife again.
He next bade Shammakh, Sur’s renowned king,Choose men from Iran’s ranks to form his wing.
“Select ten thousand armored men to wieldTheir ox-head gorzes on the battlefield.
Unsheathe your swords and press between their lines;Heed no man there; bend low where battle shines.”
The armies grappled, mingled in one throng,One mass, one mountain, locked in struggle long.
From either side there rose a crashing sound;Blood ran in streams across the trampled ground.
Dust rose on either side in clouds that spread;“Bring me my khaftan for war,” the Shah said.
They led aside the towered elephant train;The world became the Nile across the plain.
Then Rostam from the center rode ahead,And toward the tumult of the battle sped.
With him came Manushan and Khuzan bold,The army’s refuge when the battles rolled.
The karnay and the koust rang; on one handStood Tus beside the Shah in high command.
With Kaveh’s standard splendid to the sight,The golden-booted chiefs stood armed for fight.
They left their stations, hearts oppressed with pain,And formed the Shah’s left wing upon the plain.
Then Rostam and Zavareh faced the right,His brother at his side, prepared to smite.
Old Gudarz, son of Keshvad, brought support,With noble chiefs who formed his strong escort.
Zarasp and prudent Manushan came too,And strengthened Rostam’s wing with warriors true.
The din of war rose from the battlefield;No former fight such terrors had revealed.
The soil was strewn with dead and wounded men,Whose days of fortune would not come again.
No passage could be found across the plain,So thickly lay the bodies of the slain.
The desert, like the Jihun, ran with blood;One headless, one overturned, lay in that flood.
The cries of horse and rider from the fieldRose higher than the booming kousts could yield.
The mountains’ hearts seemed split by war within;Earth seemed to fly with horsemen in that din.
Here severed heads lay scattered all about;There headless trunks fell as the gorzes rang out.
The sun itself sought flight before the blade,Before the sword and falchion’s flashing shade.
A dark cloud seemed to gather on the plain,And shower down a storm of bloody rain.
Upon the left, Jaranjash’ life was done;He fell to Fariborz, King Kavus’s son.
Upon the right, Kahila, huge in might,Fell by Manushan’s blade amid the fight.
A hundred elephants in strength was he;Then wind and cloud rose southward, dark to see.
They covered up the sun; earth lost its light,And all men’s eyes grew dim amid that night.
As sunset leaned and shadows thickened near,The Turkish monarch’s heart was moved by fear.
From every kingdom, frontier, hill, and field,The horsemen pressed ahead with sword and shield.
Their jowshans, banners, differed to the sight;Red, yellow, violet filled the world with light.
When Garsivaz behind his brother stayed,He sent his troops through streams of blood to wade.
He sent a noble band upon the right,Men one in soul and body for the fight.
Another band he spread along the left,With chiefs on every side in warfare deft.
He held some forty thousand in his band,Chosen horsemen, swords at his command.
Then from behind the army he rode nearHis brother, pressing through the battle’s fear.
Afrasiab saw Garsivaz arrive,And strengthened, drove his army on to strive.
The battle roared; the air itself was veiled,As feathered shafts across the darkness sailed.
When darkness came behind the sinking sun,And day was almost night and nearly done,
False Garsivaz rushed toward the king in dread,And spoke these fearful words with lowered head:
“Who of our warriors still desires fight?The earth is blood, the air is dust and night.
Withdraw the army now that night is here;The Turks’ loud cries will soon assail your ear.
Your troops will leave you, scattering in flight;Do not contend against yourself tonight.”
The king’s heart seethed with anger at the word;So fierce his wrath, no counsel could be heard.
He spurred his charger from the troops’ array,His sable banner streaming on the way.
He slew Iran’s famed warriors in his track;Khosrow perceived and followed at his back.
Both king and shah pressed on with thin escort,Each bent on vengeance, seeking no support.
Yet Garsivaz and Jahan would not allowAfrasiab to face Iran’s Shah now.
They seized their monarch’s reins and turned his steed,Then hurried him toward Amuy at full speed.
As he withdrew, Ustukila came fast,To challenge Khosrow as the king rode past.
King Ila rushed, a nahang in the fight,And Burzuyala, eminent in might.
Three ruthless horsemen of the Turks were knownFor blood and battle, merciless as stone.
The Shah perceived them, spurred from out the throng,And charged, a mountain, resolute and strong.
He struck Ustukila with his long spear,And hurled him from the saddle, falling clear.
King Ila struck Khosrow upon the belt,But Khosrow’s breastplate turned the blow he dealt.
The spear could plant no terror in his heart;The Shah stood fearless, ready for his part.
When Khosrow saw his courage and his might,He drew his sharpened sword to end the fight.
He struck across King Ila’s waist and slew,And with that stroke he cut the man in two.
Then Burzuyala’s heart was seized with dread;He saw the force that laid his comrade dead.
He saw Khosrow’s great courage and the blow,And knew the strength and splendor of his foe.
He fled into the dark with trembling heart,As though his very skin were torn apart.
The troops beheld his prowess in the fight;No champion stood; they all gave way in flight.
That news to Afrasiab was death and dread;He wished he had faced Khosrow there instead.
When tidings of the Turks had reached his ear,His day seemed shortened, and his end drew near.
They left the field; he ordered men to cryHis challenge, loud beneath the darkened sky:
“This lion’s valor comes from sheltering night;Its narrow darkness makes me leave the fight.
If fortune’s wind has favored you today,And opened up the gates of joy your way,
When dawn brings light across the darkened plain,Behold my heart-rejoicing flag and train.
Then we shall drown Iran and veil the skies,Till sun seems Pleiades before your eyes.”
Both monarch and the Shah withdrew their train, And sought their camps across the darkened plain,
Each brooding on the blood already shed, And on the morrow’s vengeance overhead.
C4.22
Afrasiab Flees from Gang-Behesht
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From his palace roof Afrasiab watches two-thirds of his men die and his city burn. He takes leave of his hall and escapes with two hundred chiefs through a secret tunnel. Khosrow takes the golden throne, searches the city and questions his prisoners without learning anything.
26 couplets · Afrasiab named 2 times · in the full poem
Afrasiab went weeping to his hall,His heart brimmed full with grief at Gang’s great fall.
He climbed his palace wall, and there could see:Two-thirds lay dead; the rest had turned to flee.
The horsemen cried, the chieftains shouted loud,And elephant tabiras shook the crowd.
They drove the elephants across the throng;Backs struck the earth as beasts were urged along.
The city filled with smoke and cries of woe;He watched the fire and plunder spread below.
So does this passing world divide its share:One heart knows joy, another dark despair.
Afrasiab saw terror drawing near,And fortune’s overthrow lay stark and clear.
No Jahan, brother, land, or royal state;No crown, throne, belt remained to mark him great.
“How wantonly has heaven dealt this blow;My heart is seared with sorrow and with woe.
My eyes have seen such anguish here that INow think it little to be slain and die.”
He came down grieving from the palace tower,And bade farewell to throne and royal power:
“When shall I look on you with joy, restoreMy ease, and live as I have lived before?”
He left, half-dazed, and vanished out of sight;His wit and counsel flew like birds in flight.
Within the fortress palace he had made,A passage underneath the earth was laid.
No soldier in the army ever knewThat such a hidden passage tunneled through.
He chose two hundred chiefs and took that way,Then vanished underground from light of day.
From there he took the road through desert ground;His country stood astonished all around.
None knew his road or where his steps had gone;So suddenly he vanished and passed on.
Khosrow approached the palace of his foe,And crushed his fortune with a conquering blow.
He took his seat upon the throne of gold,And sent out troops to search throughout the hold.
They searched in every quarter, street by street,But found no trace of him in his defeat.
He questioned Jahan, Garsivaz, to knowWhat had become of Turan’s lord, his foe:
“How did he leave? Where has he gone to stay?Where has he hidden since he slipped away?”
They gave their answers; Khosrow heard them out,But nothing that they said resolved his doubt.
The Shah told Iran’s men: “A foe cast downAnd driven from his throne has lost his crown.
The world now grants him little joy or fame;To him, both life and death are much the same.”
C4.41
Hohm Captures Afrasiab
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Starving and sleepless, Afrasiab hides in a cave near Barda. The hermit Hohm, of Fereydoon’s line, hears a lament come up out of the mountain, climbs down after dark, wrestles the fugitive to the ground, binds his arms and drags him away.
36 couplets · Afrasiab named 3 times · in the full poem
Now fallen Afrasiab, gaunt with dread,Roamed sleepless, starving, with no home or bed.
His soul on thorns, his body racked with pain,He feared each hour would tighten ruin’s chain.
He sought a place where he could safely rest,His body whole, no fear within his breast.
Near Barda, on a mountain’s secret height,He found a cavern hidden from men’s sight.
No hawk above that height was seen to fly,No lion’s track or boar’s haunt lay nearby.
He carried food there, fearful for his life,And made the cave his home in grief and strife.
Far from the towns, beside the waters clear,Lay Hang Afrasiab, his refuge here.
He lived there for a while with burdened breast,Repenting deeds that robbed his soul of rest.
Whenever kings grow thirsty after gore,Their tenure on the throne lasts little more.
He was a king, the master of a throne,A lord whom watchful fortune called its own.
Once he shed blood, his foes rose in a flood;Blessed is the king who sheds no royal blood.
A holy teacher lived there, widely known,From Fereydoon’s illustrious lineage grown.
He bore the royal splendor, serving stillHis Shah, his loins girt up to do his will.
He used the mountain as his place of prayer,Far from men’s pleasures and the world’s affair.
The name of that illustrious man was Hohm,A man of prayer who made the wild his home.
A cavern on the lofty mountain-height,Far from the crowd, stood close within his sight.
As Hohm, in woolen robes, was deep in prayer,A wailing from the cavern stirred the air:
“O king, renowned, whom mighty men acclaimed,O judge of judges, far and widely famed!
Whom Chin, Turan, and all the world obeyed,Whose covenants through every region stayed,
Now this poor cavern is your only share;Where are your crown and warriors? Show me where.
Where are your manhood, courage, strength, and might,Your power and wisdom, once so great in fight?
Where are your majesty, your throne, your sway,Your crown, your realm, your troops in proud array?
Now in this narrow cavern you must dwell,A fugitive within a rocky cell.”
Hohm heard the lamentation’s Turkish sound,And left his prayer, forsaking sacred ground.
He said, “This wailing in the hidden nightMust be the fallen king’s despair and fright.”
When certainty had settled in his mind,He sought the hidden cave he hoped to find.
He climbed down from the mountain after dark,And found the cavern’s entrance, hard to mark.
Then like a savage lion Hohm drew near,And loosened at his waist his woolen gear.
His kamand served in place of sacred cord;He took it, trusting in the world’s great Lord.
He took the cord into the cavern’s gloom;The king rose up to meet him in that room.
They wrestled fiercely, locked in combat tight,Till Hohm subdued him with superior might.
He threw the king; to earth the monarch crashed;Then Hohm bound both his arms, securely lashed.
He dragged the captive onward in his train,And rushed like one distraught, in toil and pain.
It is no wonder if you stand amazed;Let every king whom power and rank have raised
Choose nothing but the honor of his name,Not idle strutting, food, or pleasure’s claim.
For shelter Afrasiab chose that space,Not knowing it was ruin’s dwelling place.
C4.44
The Death of Afrasiab and Garsivaz
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While the brothers talk, Hohm casts his kamand, drags Afrasiab ashore and hands him to the Shahs. Afrasiab asks to see his daughter; Khosrow answers with the roll of his murders and cuts his throat. Garsivaz is cut in two beside him.
46 couplets · Afrasiab named 3 times · in the full poem
While those two princes spoke of grief and shame,Hohm planned the snare to catch his royal game.
The holy man beheld the fallen king,And heard the brothers’ bitter mourning ring.
He took the island path and, drawing near,Saw Afrasiab’s distant form appear.
He loosed the ready kamand from his waist,And crouched and came with savage lion’s haste.
He cast the twisted kamand, deftly spread,And caught the fallen monarch by the head.
He dragged him from the lake upon the shore;His senses failed; his strength could serve no more.
The holy man took hold and hauled his preyIn shame from water, bound him where he lay.
He gave him to the Shahs, then went away,As though the wind had borne him from the fray.
Then Khosrow came with sharpened sword in hand,His heart and mind obeying wrath’s command.
Then Afrasiab spoke, bereft of might:“I saw this very day in dreams at night.
Long has the turning sky passed overhead,And now the veil of fate is torn and shed.
O bitter seeker after vengeance, speak:Why slay your mother’s father, old and weak?”
“O evildoer,” Kay Khosrow replied,“You merit blame and scorn on every side.
First, for your brother’s murder you must pay,Who never sought to bring the great dismay.
And then bright Nohzar, Iraj’s heir, you slew,Whose fame beneath the shining sun men knew.
You struck his neck beneath your sharpened blade,And shook the world with all the strife you made.
And third, my father, peerless in the fight:No horseman matched Siavash in his might.
You cut his head off like a sheep in shame,And rose beyond the sky in pride of name.
How could you slay my father and believeNo evil day would come to make you grieve?
You hastened into wickedness and sin,And now the fruit of evil closes in.”
Afrasiab answered, “Wicked deeds bring shame;And slaughter clings in darkness to my name.
O Shah, my daughter’s son, the deed is done;Now hear my tale before my course is run.
Let me behold your mother while I live;Then hear the full account I have to give.”
Khosrow replied, “Why set my life aflame,If you now seek my mother in your shame?
My father guiltless fell; I was unborn,Yet by your wickedness the world was torn.
You struck a king for whom the crown and throneOf ivory wept with bitter, grieving moan.
Now is the day when God repays the ill;He pays ill back with ill, as justice will.”
With Indian sword he struck the tyrant’s neck,And cast his lifeless body down, a wreck.
His face and white beard both were red with blood,While Garsivaz lost hope beside the flood.
His throne stood empty; now his reign was past;His days of royal greatness could not last.
His evil brought him evil; son, take heed:Seek not the key that frees an evil deed.
For evil always bears an evil yield,And evil men reap evil from their field.
A king endowed with God’s own grace and lightMakes bonds and prison curb his wrathful might.
But when he sheds men’s blood, he falls in woe;The turning heavens strike their answering blow.
Thus once a Mobad warned the fierce Bahram:“Do not shed guiltless blood or cause them harm.
If you would keep your crown upon your brow,Be merciful; let wisdom guide you now.
Remember what the crown tells every head:‘Let reason and sound judgment there be wed.’”
The cheeks of Garsivaz grew wan with fear,His heart was troubled as the end drew near.
They dragged him to the headsman in disgrace,In heavy bonds, with terror on his face.
With guards and executioners around,A fitting state for one so deeply bound.
In pain he came before the monarch’s view,And tears of blood ran down his lips of blue.
The king of kings recalled the fatal bowl,The khanjar and the deed that seared his soul.
He spoke of Tur and Salm and Fereydoon,And mighty Iraj, brought to death too soon.
He called the headsman, who came swift to heed,His naked sword prepared for bloody deed.
He cleft the culprit at the waist in two,While terror through the watching army flew.
They cast the brothers down, a mountain mound;On every side the people gathered round.
Family
- Parents
- Pashang of Turan
- Siblings
- Aghriras, Garsivaz
- Children
- Farangis, Shideh, Surkha, Qarakhan, Jahan, Manijeh
On the maps
Story maps that show Afrasiab or tell a part of the story that names Afrasiab.
B1.3Afrasiab’s Invasion and the Fall of Nohzar
B6.1The Hamavaran Sea-War and Kavus’s Captivity
B7.1–B7.4The Frontier Hunt and the Clash of the Seven Champions
B9.31–B9.32Siavash Crosses the Jihun into Exile
B14.21–B14.28Puladvand and Afrasiab’s Flight
C4.2–C4.14Kay Khosrow's Last Offensive and the Crossing of the Jihun
C4.13–C4.31The Pursuit to the Eastern Sea
C4.41–C4.45The Capture and Death of AfrasiabWhere he appears
Named mentions by book, from the Universe Registry, the index behind this site. Titles and epithets are not counted.
B1The Crisis after Manuchehr36B2Garshasp and the Transition to Kayanian Kingship7B3Kay Qobad11B6The Folly of Kay Kavus9B7The Fight of the Seven Warriors19B8The Tragedy of Rostam & Sohrab9B9The Story of Siavash93B10Vengeance for Siavash and the Retrieval of Kay Khosrow58B11Kay Khosrow’s Kingship10B12Forood and the Snowstorm Campaign17B13Mount Hamavan and the Kamus Campaign17B14The Great Battle with the Khan of Chin39C1Rostam and the Div Akvan5C2The Tale of Bijan and Manijeh26C3The Battle of the Twelve Rukhs44C4The Final Afrasiab Wars and the Disappearance of Kay Khosrow112C6Goshtasb, Zardosht, and the War with Arjasp2C8The Tragedy of Rostam and Esfandiyar3D1The Reign of Bahman, Son of Esfandiyar1D5The Iskandar Cycle1D6The Ashkanian Dynasty1E1The Story of Mahbud and Other Matters6E5Hormizd, Son of Anooshirvan1E6Khosrow Parviz3E7The Story of Khosrow Parviz and Shirin1E10Yazdegard1More in the Glossary, all the characters and the Art.