New NaqqaliPahlevan · son of Gudarz
Givگیو
GEEV
Son of Gudarz, who searches seven years for Kay Khosrow and brings him to Iran; he perishes in the snow after Kay Khosrow vanishes.
- His story
- From B4.1, The Reign of Kay Kavus, His Sitting upon the Throne, and His Intent to March to Mazandaran, to C4.63, The Pahlevans Are Lost in the Snow
- Named
- 547 times, in 167 dastans
- Parents
- Gudarz
- Children
- Bijan
- Plates
- Vol I: VII, Vol I: VIII, Vol II: IV, Vol II: V
His story, in the poem’s own sections
9 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.
B10.16
Giv Seeks Kay Khosrow in Turan
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Giv sets out alone, leaving his young son Bijan in Gudarz’s care. The poet reflects on death and God’s power. In Turan, Giv questions everyone he meets and kills those who cannot tell him where Kay Khosrow is.
70 couplets · Giv named 6 times · in the full poem
At sunrise earth shone green with fenugreek,As light spread gold from every ridge and peak.
Bold Giv came girded, ready for the ride,His wind-swift horse stood saddled at his side.
Then Gudarz asked, “What purpose drives your way?Who rides beside you on the road today?”
He said, “O Gudarz, steadfast, brave, and wise,Whose noble spirit shines before our eyes,
My horse and coiled kamand are all I need;No other man shall ride beside my steed.
If men ride with me, pursuers draw near;And then I may be forced to battle here.
My kamand at the saddle, swift my mount,In Indian silk, the gear on which I count.
I make the plains and mountains my domain,Until a guide appears upon the plain.
Through no town will I pass along my track;They will know my face and bring ruin back.
Through your good fortune, if my task is done,I shall return with joy beneath the sun.
Keep little Bijan sheltered in your care,And guard him well from what the years may bear.
Teach him the arts of battle, court, and field;Train him to know when sword or cup to wield.
Though a child, I have seen his spirit rise;The marks of manhood stand before my eyes.
Farewell; remember me, but set grief aside;Let not my absence cloud the light inside.
I cannot say if we shall meet again;God’s hidden will lies past the minds of men.
When you wash your face and kneel down to pray,Ask the Creator to protect my way.
For He is higher than all worldly fame;The greatest lords are servants of His name.
No day revolves except beneath His will;Our sleep and food obey His order still.
He formed the earth, the heavens, time and place;The strong and weak alike reveal His trace.
In Him lie hope and fear, and all our birth;Lord of the water, fire, wind, and earth.
Perhaps the Just will guide me where I go,And lead me to that lord whom all men know.”
The father aged, young the warrior bold;His mouth for war stood open, none could hold.
He knew not if his son would meet his eyes;His heart was overturned by their goodbyes.
Then Giv dismounted, took his father’s hand,And kissed it as the aged chief did stand.
The father clasped him tightly to his breast,And kissed his face and head before the quest.
Old Gudarz cried, “O Just One, lend Your aid;To You alone my prayer and grief are laid.
His mind, his soul, his life I give to You,This famed young son, courageous, strong, and true.
Release our land from hardship and despair;Return my youthful son into my care.”
How many hardships men have learned to bear,For greatness they have chosen toil to share.
At last no bed remains except the dust;No nush-daru can cure its fatal thrust.
You know you cannot linger long below;Why crown your head with greed before you go?
The greed you cherish also meets the grave;The pit will swallow all you sought to save.
Enough of fleeting joys the world can yield,When others reap the harvest of your field.
You labor while another takes his ease;He will not seek your grave when labors cease.
His joy too ends; the dust will claim his head;His laughter joins the silence of the dead.
Then think how swiftly every day must pass,Let worship of the Just One hold you fast.
However long you stay, you must depart;No road returns once death has claimed the heart.
Choose goodness; never cause another pain;Salvation’s road is this, both clear and plain.
Set not your heart upon this passing sphere;It will not stay forever with you here.
Wise heart, wake now and leave all doubt behind;Pull free your foot from mire and clear your mind.
The Maker is the One who fashions you;You are His handiwork and servant too.
When wisdom bows your neck before His might,Do not dispute existence in His sight.
Do not break bread or sleep with those who claimThat God does not exist beyond a name.
His heart is blind, his head has lost its guide;The wise no longer count him at their side.
His signs of presence shine on earth and sea;Let knowledge keep your nature clear and free.
All power and knowledge are His to command;He fashioned soul and reason with His hand.
When Turan’s ruler thought within his breast,“I rise above the greatest and the best,”
He slew that youthful prince in lawless pride,Then harsh and bitter fortune turned its tide.
From his own stock the Maker raised a tree,Its boughs grew heavy for the world to see.
That tree repaid him as his deeds had earned,And dust through brain and royal eyvan churned.
He rules the sun, and Saturn, and the moon,From Him come victory and royal boon.
Source of existence, source of truth and right,From Him come gain and loss, increase and blight.
No road lies outside His command and plan;The sun and moon cannot His wisdom span.
By His command bold Giv his waist then bound,And came like some fierce lion to the ground.
Alone he went, no comrade at his side,His sheltered life to God he would confide.
He rode until he reached Turan’s frontier,And seized each lone man who would venture near.
In Turkish, he would question captured men,And ask where Kay Khosrow was dwelling then.
If one replied, “I have no news to tell,”Giv struck him dead, and where he stood he fell.
He hung the corpse within his kamand’s bend,Then heaped the earth above him at the end.
So none could learn his secret or his name,Nor hear report of how the stranger came.
At length he chose a traveler for guide,And brought him on the journey at his side.
Alert, he journeyed with him day by day,But kept his secret hidden on the way.
One day he said, “One answer I require;Speak truth to me and earn what you desire.
If what you know proves truthful from the start,Your knowledge may wash falsehood from the heart.
Whatever you may ask, I will provide;Not life nor body shall from you be denied.”
The guide replied, “Knowledge is vast and deep,But scattered among men, for each to keep.
If I possess the answer that you seek,You will not find me empty when I speak.”
Giv asked, “Where is Kay Khosrow now concealed?Speak truth to me, and let it stand revealed.”
He answered, “Never have I heard that name,Nor has another asked me of the same.”
At that reply, Giv swung his sword around,And with one stroke he cast him to the ground.
B10.17
Giv Finds Kay Khosrow
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After seven years of wandering, Giv finds a youth by a stream who looks like Siavash. Kay Khosrow greets him by name, for Siavash foretold his coming, and proves his identity with the black birthmark of the Kayanian line.
77 couplets · Giv named 14 times · in the full poem
Like one gone mad, brave Giv searched far and wide,For signs of where the hidden prince might hide.
Seven long years he wandered without rest,While sword and girdle galled him, sore oppressed.
Fed on Gur-e-Khar, in their hides he fared,And drank salt water all the wild had spared.
Through desert lands and mountain paths he went,In ceaseless toil, his days in exile spent.
Far from all men, in hardship and in pain,He roamed the wild with nothing left to gain.
At that same time, bold Rostam crossed the tide,And brought his army to the nearer side.
Afrasiab returned to Gang, his hold,And seized again the realm he ruled of old.
He said to Piran: “Bring the prince awayFrom Machin; to his mother take him straightaway.
But guard the roads and watch each hidden trail;Let none pass through; let vigilance prevail.”
A messenger rode forth on camel strong,And brought the son of Siavash along.
The prudent son of Siavash came home,Back to the land where he once used to roam.
They brought him home to where his mother stayed,And peaceful years rolled on, his fears allayed.
Time passed while Giv still wandered, worn and torn,Through Turan’s lands in grief and sorrow borne.
One day, weighed down by anxious thought and care,He reached a fruitful grove, abundant, fair.
He wandered through the meadow, pale and worn,While all the world seemed bright, his heart forlorn.
The earth lay green, the streams ran full and wide,A place for rest and ease on every side.
He loosed his horse and let it roam at will,Then slept upon the ground, and troubled still.
He said: “Did some evil Div deceive his sight,And dress Gudarz’s dream in seeming right?
No trace I find of Khosrow anywhere;What profit lies in all this fruitless care?
While comrades fight and feast in distant lands,And chase their joy or fame at fate’s commands,
My fortune, like a walnut on a dome,Can never rest, nor find a settled home.
I waste my life; my back bends like a bow;My fruitless labor brings me only woe.
Perhaps no prince was ever born below,Or time has cast him where no man can go.
This quest has yielded hardship, grief, and pain;Blessed the one whom poison frees from strain.”
With sorrow in his heart he roamed the plain,Still searching meadows, restless and in vain.
At last beside a shining stream he sawA youth whose beauty filled his soul with awe.
Tall as a cypress, wine cup in his hand,A many-colored wreath above him spanned.
His bearing showed the farr of royal right,And wisdom’s banner shone before Giv’s sight.
He seemed Siavash, living and restored,On ivory throne, with crown of royal lord.
The scent of love arose from that bright face,His locks seemed made a royal crown to grace.
Giv thought: “This is the prince I sought to see;That royal seat is made for such as he.”
He left his horse and went on foot ahead,While hope revived the spirit he thought dead.
As nearer still he came, his grief withdrew;The knot of seven years of sorrow flew.
The treasure long concealed now met his eyes,His years of sacrifice earned this great prize.
When Khosrow saw him standing by the stream,His heart grew glad as one awaked from dream.
He smiled and thought: “This must be Giv the brave,The man foretold, who comes my life to save.
Such form and bearing show a spirit high;He comes to lead me home to Iran’s sky.”
The prince stepped forward from his resting place,And spoke with calm assurance, face to face:
“O Giv, well met, with farr and justice bright;How did you cross this border in your flight?
What news of Tus, Gudarz, and Kavus’s throne?Are they all well, and is my name still known?
What of brave Rostam, towering in his might,And Zal, and all who stand prepared to fight?”
Giv heard these words and stood transfixed with awe,Then praised the God whose guiding hand he saw.
He said: “O noble chief, exalted one,All hearts still yearn for you, long-lost king’s son.
You are the son of Siavash; now I knowKayanian blood and Khosrow’s farr you show.
But tell me, noble prince, and answer true:Who spoke of Gudarz and his house to you?
Who spoke of Keshvad, who of Giv? Who broughtThese names to you? What faithful tongue has taught?”
The prince replied: “My mother told me all,When my dear father faced his final fall.
My father spoke, his God-given farr still bright,And gave his final counsel at grief’s height:
He told my mother all that fate would send,The evil that would reach us in the end.
‘At last Kay Khosrow shall arise and reign,The key that opens every binding chain.
Then famed and valiant Giv shall Turan find,And come from Iran with his task in mind.
From Iran’s land to lead him to the throne,And make his royal worth and power known.
His strength shall cleanse the world and right each wrong,And vengeance shall be his, both just and strong.’”
Then Giv replied: “O head of all the great,What sign confirms the farr that marks your state?
Siavash bore a dark and royal sign,Like one black spot within a rose design.
Reveal your arm and let me plainly seeThe sign that proves your noble pedigree.”
The prince then bared his arm without delay,And showed the royal birthmark clear as day.
A dark birthmark from Kay Qobad’s old line,A Kayanian token, clear in its design.
When Giv beheld the sign, he bowed to earth;His tears proclaimed the truth of Khosrow’s birth.
Giv clasped the Shah and blessed his royal name;And joy rose in his heart like sudden flame.
The prince gave thanks and asked of Iran’s state,Of throne and kings, of warriors and fate.
Of Rostam fierce, and Gudarz wise and old,And how the chiefs of Iran’s realm might hold.
Then Giv replied: “O lord of fortune bright,If God showed Paradise before my sight,
And gave the seven climes beneath my hand,With Kayanian crown and high command,
Though crown and throne and all dominion were mine,No gift could make my heart so brightly shine.
To see your face here in this foreign landSurpasses wealth and power, however grand.
None knows in Iran whether I survive,Or lie beneath the earth, or burn alive.
If I could see Siavash alive again,I would ask him what grief he suffered then.
But thanks to God, who brought my toil to end,And turned my grief to joy, my heart to mend.”
Together then they left that wood, and straight,Khosrow then asked of Kavus and his state,
Of seven years of hardship, food, and sleep,And all the grief his lonely road made deep.
Giv told what God had set beneath the sky,The dream, his food and garb, the years gone by.
How Kavus’s farr had faded from its height,And grief had stripped the aging Shah of might;
How Iran’s color, fragrance, wealth had fled,And ruin spread where prosperous life had led.
Khosrow’s heart burned to hear such sorrow told,His cheeks flushed red, his spirit fierce and bold.
He said, “Your pain gives way to ease at last;Be as my father now your trials are past.
Tell no one what has happened here today;And watch what time and turning fortune say.”
B10.21
Giv Puts Kulbad and Nastihan to Flight
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Giv alone scatters Kulbad’s and Nastihan’s riders and returns to reassure Khosrow. Kulbad tells Piran that Giv shrugged off a thousand blows, and Piran scornfully accuses his captains of cowardice.
49 couplets · Giv named 12 times · in the full poem
Giv saw afar the dust the riders raised,He drew his sword; his battle-spirit blazed.
His cry like thunder shook the plain and sky,Till darkness veiled the lion’s brain and eye.
He swept among the riders like the dust,And turned the earth to lapis with his thrust.
With khanjar, then with gorz, he struck from high,And rained down iron as he thundered by.
Beneath Giv’s gopal blows the chiefs gave way,Their hearts grew sick of battle and the fray.
Giv’s heart laughed in the fury of the fight;The sea itself seemed but a spring in sight.
The dense ranks closed around him every side,A raging mass of horsemen in their pride.
The spears like reeds grew thick across the field,Till sun and moon alike from sight were concealed.
The lion grieved within that spear-thick stand;Blood turned the reed-bed to a wine-red land.
Giv struck down many riders in the fight,Till all the horsemen wearied of his might.
Then Kulbad said: “A mountain stands in sight,Of granite rock in shoulder, flank, and height.
It is Khosrow’s bright farr that guides each blow,Not Giv alone who lays our warriors low.
What fate now waits our fields and mountain plain?None can resist what Yazdan shall ordain.
The stars foretell disaster for our throne,For Turan’s lords and lands we call our own.”
Then all their troops advanced in fierce array,And clashed with Giv, who held them all at bay.
The battle cries and blaring horns rang round,Till mountain roots were shaken underground.
The caves and plains were heaped with bodies dead;The earth like arghavan was crimson-red.
The routed ranks broke loose and fled in fear,And turned from Giv, no longer drawing near.
Wounded and spent, the broken force withdrew,And rode to Piran, battered through and through.
But Giv returned, blood staining breast and hand,A blood-soaked lion from the slaughtered band.
He came to Khosrow: “Prince, rejoice today;Free now your mind from care and grief away.
Kulbad and Nastihan pursued our trail,With all their force, but even they would fail.
Those who survived fled wounded from the field,Their shoulders, chests, a grief no words concealed.
No horseman lives in all of Iran’s land,Save Rostam, who against my strength could stand.”
Khosrow rejoiced and praised Giv’s noble name,And blessed the hand that won such lasting fame.
They ate what food they found without delay,Then hastened onward by the trackless way.
Meanwhile the Turanian troops reached Piran’s side,Defeated, scorched, and stripped of all their pride.
He spoke in anger: “Hide no wonder here;Whatever you have seen, make all things clear.
Where are Khosrow and Giv? What came to pass?Speak truth to me; concealment shall not last!”
Then Kulbad said: “The tale I tell is true;O Pahlevan, I open speech to you.
When I recount what Giv did in the fray,Your heart will turn from battle’s field away.
You have seen me lead chiefs through battle’s flame,And often praised my valor and my name.
I pressed him so, I thought his fall was near;His downward course already seemed quite clear.
More than a thousand gopal blows I laid,Yet he stood firm and fearless, never swayed.
His head seemed like an anvil, hard and vast,His chest and arms like elephant tusks built to last.
I have seen Rostam raging in the fray,And heard of men who never turned away;
Yet never have I seen a man endureSuch crushing blows and still remain secure.
Though every gorz had been as wax and thin,And every spearpoint made of leopard skin,
His limbs should still have shattered from the strain,His frame been crushed beneath that ceaseless rain.
He drew new strength from every stroke I threw,And roared, an elephant, with fury new.
One man alone our massed ranks overthrew,Till heaps of slain like mountains round him grew.”
Piran grew angry. “Enough!” then he cried;“To tell such shame disgraces warrior pride.
How can one rider merit all this fame?Why speak so much of one lone warrior’s name?
Seek no more combat with the men of war;You rode with noble Nastihan before,
With troops like lions, yet because you fled,You made of Giv a mad elephant instead.
Your fame among the mighty now lies low;Afrasiab will hear and surely know.
He will cast down the crown in grief and shame:Two Pahlevans, two horsemen known to fame,
With troops equipped and ready for the fight,Then from one warrior turned and took to flight,
While he struck many down in battle’s course;Yours now are taunts; not gopal, koust, or force.”
B10.28
Kay Khosrow Crosses the Jihun
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Trusting his farr, Khosrow prays and rides Behzad into the flooded Jihun, and all three cross safely. The amazed ferryman follows with gifts, which Giv refuses. Houman persuades Afrasiab not to pursue into Iran.
49 couplets · Giv named 3 times · in the full poem
Then Giv addressed the prince: “If Khosrow’s nameIs truly yours, this flood shall bring no shame.
When Fereydoon once crossed the Arvand’s tide,His farr made all the world bow at his side.
If Shah of Iran, refuge of the brave,Why should you fear the fury of this wave?
With farr and royal station as your right,How can these waters overcome your might?
If your mother or I sink in the deep,Do not lament; your life is ours to keep.
The world desired the child your mother bore;The Shahanshah’s throne will lack its king no more.
My mother bore me for this very end,To serve your throne, your royal life defend.
Delay, or Afrasiab soon will ride,And reach us raging at the river’s side.
He will then hang me from the gallows high,Then cast you both to fish, or hooves, to die.”
Then Khosrow said: “Enough. So be it done.My refuge rests in Yazdan, saving One.”
He left his steed and cried in fervent need,Then laid his face upon the dust to plead:
“You are my refuge, strength, and guiding way;Your justice lights the darkness of my day.
In ease and hardship, farr from You it springs;My soul and wisdom shelter beneath Your wings.”
He rose, a morning star before their sight,Then mounted Shabrang, radiant and bright.
He urged the dark horse into Jihun’s tide,And like a ship across the flood did ride.
With Giv and Farangis close at his side,All three passed through the swelling waters wide.
Beyond the flood they reached the farther land;He washed his head and body on the strand.
Among the reeds he prayed with heart made pure,And praised the Maker, whose great works endure.
The ferryman, amazed at what he saw,Stood stunned and silent, filled with fear and awe.
He said: “Behold a marvel none can meet;No mortal mind could grasp so strange a feat.
In springtime Jihun, through its raging spans,Three steeds, three jowshans, three bargostvans.
No sage would number them with mortal kind,Who crossed such depths and left the flood behind.”
He cursed the raw demand that he had made,And saw his market ruined by the trade.
He loaded all his goods into his boat,And raised its sail to follow, set afloat.
He came behind the Shah to make amends,And reached him where the riverbank extends:
A bow, a casque, a kamand finely wrought,With all the goods his ferryboat had brought.
But Giv replied: “You witless dog!” he cried.“You claimed the stream would sweep us in its tide.
To such a Shah, who asked you for a boat,You gave refusal, keeping it afloat.
Now keep your gifts; your offerings are vain;A day will come when you recall this pain.”
The ferryman withdrew in grief and dread,As though he bade farewell to life instead.
Still sore afraid, he neared the ferry lane,The Turanian army reached the river plain.
He saw no boat, no rider in the stream;Afrasiab cried out, his wrath a scream:
“How did that Div cross Jihun’s raging span?What secret path was found by such a man?”
The ferryman replied: “My father keptThis toll before me; I in turn accept.
Yet never have I heard or seen it saidThat Jihun could be crossed like earth instead.
In flood-time no one entering survives;The waves drag all beneath and take their lives.
Yet these three riders crossed as though they flew,As if the sky itself had borne them through.
They seemed as though the wind itself gave birth,Or Yazdan sent them among men on earth.”
Afrasiab grew pale at what was told,And sighed from grief, his breath and spirit cold.
He said: “Launch now the boat with all your might;Make ready fast and follow in their flight.
See where the fugitives have gone from here,Or whether they lie sleeping somewhere near.
Bring up the boat; no longer pause or wait;We must discover where they stopped of late.”
Then Houman spoke: “O king, restrain your fire,And do not let rash fury rule desire.
Would you pursue Iran with this small band,And fall to lions waiting in that land?
Gudarz stands close with Piltan Rostam near,And Tus, and Gorgin, breaker of the spear.
Have you grown weary of your throne and crown,To seek the lions’ claws that strike you down?
Your realm from Chin to Machin still endures;The sun, moon, Saturn, Pleiades are yours.
No harm from Iran need disturb you now;Hold fast your realm beneath your royal brow.”
So from Jihun they turned with hearts blood-red,And afterward long days and seasons fled.
B12.10
Giv Battles Forood
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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 · Giv named 10 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.
C2.15
Giv Brings Word to Rostam
👨👦📜🐎🧭⛰️🏰👴🤝👨👦😭🏇💪👀👨👦😢👨👦🕳️⛓️📜👀🏇💪🤞🛡️24 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
Giv rides hard to Sistan, where Zal meets him and says Rostam is out hunting. Giv pours out his grief, hands over the letter and reports what the cup showed. Ferdowsi sets out the marriage ties between the two houses, and Rostam swears to free Bijan.
60 couplets · Giv named 13 times · in the full poem
Giv took the letter after it was sealed,And blessed the Shah, and from his presence wheeled.
He came back to his house, and there preparedIn haste the Sistan road that must be dared.
He horsed the riders of his house, and criedOn Yazdan’s name, and in that name relied.
He rode toward Hirmund with a courier’s speed,Like startled game that flies before the steed.
Two days of travel he compressed in one,With wounded heart beneath the burning sun.
His group of men endured the road in pain,Through deserts vast and heights across the plain.
The watchman saw Giv riding into sight,And sent the word to Zabul from the height:
“A rider rides toward Hirmund; at his backAre many riders following his track.
A standard flutters high behind his band,A Pahlevan’s bright blade is in his hand.”
When Dastan, son of Sahm, had heard that cry,He ordered up his chestnut, saddled high.
He spurred ahead to meet the men unknown,And learn what purpose brought them near his throne.
But when he saw Giv’s withered face appear,He hurried on, astonished, full of fear.
He thought: “Some evil struck the Shah’s domain,For Giv has crossed this far and weary plain.”
When Zal came near, they rose and took the wayWith reverence, and greeted him that day.
Zal asked of Iran, Khosrow, crown, and state,Its chiefs of war and Turan’s plans of late.
Giv gave the greetings of the king and peers,Then spoke about his son through grief and tears.
“You see me pale; my feet are bruised and dyed,With leopard-spots of blood from this hard ride.”
He asked then after Rostam, and would knowWhere Tahamtan was; Dastan answered so:
“He hunts the Gur-e-Khar; and when the sunTurns back, he will be here, his hunting done.”
Giv said: “I shall go seek him where he rides;A letter from the Shah my journey guides.”
Zal answered: “Go not hence; before the nightHe comes back from the hunting-ground’s far height.
Bide here till Rostam comes; and for todayBe glad with me, and put your grief away.”
Reflecting on the matter, they withdrewToward Zal’s palace, hearts with grief shot through.
As Giv came in, brave Rostam entered too;Giv went to meet the champion he knew.
He neared him, then dismounted from his horse,Bowed low, and tears ran freely down their course.
His heart was full of yearning, grief, and dread;When Rostam saw him stricken, thus he said:
“Iran and Khosrow, moon of all our age,Have fallen, or the world has turned its page?”
He stepped down, clasped him close, and bade him shareHow Khosrow and the royal court might fare:
Of Tus and Gostaham, Gudarz the old,Of chiefs who kept Iran’s frontiers controlled.
Of Shapur, Farhad, Rohham known to fame,Of Gorgin, then of Bijan’s state and name.
At Bijan’s name, Giv cried despite his will,Then spoke while anguish made his spirit still:
“O honored prince, the earth’s most noble birth,The choicest of the mighty ones on earth,
Joy has returned to me on seeing you,And hearing words both loyal, kind, and true.
All those you named are well and greetings send,With peace and messages from friend to friend.
Except Bijan, great champion of the brave,Whom Khosrow saw chained in a dungeon cave.
Now see what blow of fortune strikes my head;My single son is lost, perhaps near dead.
What evil eye has struck the Gudarz line,That gain has ended, and but loss is mine?
He is my child, my helper, and my stay;No grief like mine has ever crossed my way.
He vanished from my sight in all the world;No grief like this on this our house was hurled.
Since then I ride without rest in my plight,Like one gone mad, to seek my vanished light.
For Bijan, ceaselessly, like one distraught,From every quarter of the world I sought.
The Shah, the world-revealing cup in hand,Before the World-Creator took his stand.
He cried aloud and made his praises riseAt Ormozd of Farvardin, Kayanian wise.
He left the fire-temple when done with prayer,Girt up his belt, and took the royal chair.
He set the shining cup, and in its glareHe searched beyond all measure everywhere.
He looked; and deep in dark Turan he foundBijan in chains beneath the pit-black ground.
In Turan there the Shah beheld him boundIn heavy chains, and evil days around.
When thus the cup revealed him, at that hourHe sped me here to you, and to your power.
My cheeks are pale, my eyes with sorrow dim;I look to you alone to rescue him.
You bind your belt to answer every cry,And lift the helpless when their hopes run dry.”
Giv spoke; his lashes brimmed with bitter tears,His cold sigh rose from grief and father’s fears.
He gave the letter into Rostam’s hand,And told how Gorgin ruined all he planned.
He took the letter; both his eyes ran wet,His heart with hate for Afrasiab beset.
Then for Bijan he wept aloud in pain,And from his eyes the blood poured down like rain.
For Giv and Rostam shared a bond well known:Giv wed brave Rostam’s daughter as his own.
Giv’s sister too became brave Rostam’s wife,And bore him Faramarz, his pride in life.
Thus Bijan, honored under every sky,Was Rostam’s daughter’s son through that first tie.
Then Rostam said: “Take heart; dismiss your fear.Rakhsh keeps his saddle till the road is clear.
Not till I take Bijan’s own hand, and breakHis prison and his bonds for his own sake.
By Yazdan’s might, and by the Shah’s command,I turn that crown and throne from Turan’s land.”
C3.25
Giv’s Horse Falters before Piran
🏇👨👦⚔️👴🏹🎯🛡️❌🐎😓👦🗣️🔮⏳👴🏃🧑🤝🧑🏇💪⚔️🌆😰22 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
Giv breaks through to Piran, but his horse balks and his arrows leave the chief unharmed. Bijan reminds him that only Gudarz can kill Piran. Piran flees to Lahhak and Farshidvard, who fight Giv, Guraza, Bijan and Gostaham to a standstill until nightfall.
79 couplets · Giv named 18 times · in the full poem
When Ruyin, son of Piran, from the rear,Beheld the onset and the dust draw near,
He issued from the rear of Turan’s band,With wolfish nobles, sword and spear in hand.
Like some fierce leopard, he engaged the foe,But could not master them or lay them low.
He struggled hard, then cast his sword away,And turned his back, despairing of the fray.
Piran the chief, with warriors of his own,Held firm his place, his face to battle shown.
Giv saw him there, and wheeled, and spurred to breachThe ring of guards that kept Piran from reach.
He speared four men and hurled them to the ground,From those before Piran, his guards around.
Piran, son of Viseh, strung his bow,And rained sharp arrows fiercely on his foe.
Bold Giv held up his shield above his head,And charged with spear, a wolf where blood was shed.
But when he sought to close with fierce Piran,And thrust his spear against the chief of Turan,
His charger halted, rooted to the ground;It would not move from where it now was found.
Enraged, he lashed his swift steed with the whip,And anger loosed the words upon his lip.
He seethed, then let his bitter curses flyAgainst the evil Div beneath the sky.
Then with his wolf-skin shield above his head,He dropped his spear and took his bow instead.
He drew and loosed to pin Piran’s strong handAgainst the shield he raised to make his stand.
Four shafts he shot against Piran’s proud crown;They failed to harm that chief of dread renown.
Three more he shot against the chieftain’s steed,With points to pierce through jowshans in war’s need.
No wound appeared on rider or on horse;Then Giv’s companions sped to him in force.
When Piran saw, his heart with fury burned;He charged at Giv, to fierce assault returned.
He sought to wound Giv’s body, break his frame,And rout the army that behind him came.
Giv wheeled like smoke and thrust his spear on high,And swept Piran’s helm off beneath the sky.
Yet harmed him not nor laid the warrior low;Giv’s heart grew troubled by that fruitless blow.
Bijan approached his father in the fight,And said, “O famed one, blessed with fortune’s light,
I heard our monarch say that old PiranWould fight in many battles for Turan.
From many dragons’ sharp and clutching hold,He shall escape in battle, as foretold.
Yet at the last Gudarz will take his breath;He is reserved for that appointed death.
So strive no more: his destined hour is far;Why seek to force the secret of his star?”
Giv’s wrathful troops came up in armored rows,Their hearts aflame with vengeance for their foes.
When Piran saw them, he wheeled round to flee,And sought his troops, where there might sheltered be.
With yellow face he sought his chieftains’ aid,Lahhak and Farshidvard, both sore dismayed,
And said, “O chiefs of fame and lion heart,Great swordsmen trained in battle’s deadly art,
For such an hour I raised you into fame;Now prove the steel and valor of your name.
The foe has now come forward to the fight,The world is black with enemies in sight.
Yet I have seen no warrior take the field,And fight before the lines with sword and shield.”
At this, the chieftains breathed revenge in flame,And rose to answer when his summons came:
“Though our pure souls should leave our bodies here,We shall not flinch or yield ourselves to fear.
Bind robe to robe; we stand here for the fight,And keep our battle-belts drawn firm and tight.”
Lahhak and Farshidvard, their strength combined,Rode out and challenged Giv with single mind.
Brave Lahhak charged at Giv; the blow he dealtDrove his spear hard against the warrior’s belt.
He sought to wrench the warrior from his seat,And hurl him headlong at the charger’s feet.
His jowshan shattered from the heavy blow,Yet Giv sat firm and would not topple low.
His spear then pierced Lahhak’s swift-footed steed,Which fell in anguish from that violent deed.
Lahhak dismounted; from afar, astrideHis horse, brave Farshidvard rode to his side.
His sword cut through Giv’s spear like wind in flight;He turned away, rejoicing in his might.
When Giv beheld what Farshidvard had done,He drew his gorz and charged him at a run.
He struck that dragon’s head with all his force,And knocked the blade out, flying off its course.
He struck his neck again; a fiery rainPoured down his body with that blow of pain.
Blood from his liver to his mouth now rose;His body slackened, dazed beneath the blows.
While Giv fought on, Lahhak with hurried courseRemounted on a swift, wind-footed horse.
The two chiefs, armed with gorz and spear, attacked,Like lions raging where the lines were packed.
Their gorzes rained with many a crushing blow,Yet Giv sat firm against the double foe.
Firm in his khadang saddle, Giv held fast,And took delight in battle as blows passed.
When they beheld that lion standing strong,Defying all their blows the whole day long,
The two chiefs cried in anger and despair:“What evil has Iran brought us to bear?
An elephant is mounted on that steed;Only a lion’s claws could make him bleed.”
Giv called his comrades for another spear,Then wheeled to left and right as foes drew near.
He charged them both from either side with might,Yet neither chief was toppled in the fight.
He thought, “These warriors bring a trial new;What strange contention must I struggle through?
No mortal men of Turan face me here,But then Divs out of Mazandaran appear.”
Upon Giv’s right Guraza drove his horseTo meet bold Farshidvard with warlike force.
His Roman gorz of steel rose like a tower;His camel-sized steed bore him forth in power.
Guraza swung; in steel-bound jowshan, lowThe chief bent to his saddle, foiled the blow.
Then with his spear he struck Guraza’s belt,But no link parted with the stroke he dealt.
Then Bijan, sword in hand, advanced to fight,Behind Guraza, like a lion in might.
He struck the head and helm of Farshidvard,Who churned the earth in battle, fighting hard.
Bijan reached out to seize his crested head;The Turk ducked down and slipped aside instead.
Behind Bijan rode Gostaham in force,Iran’s great nobles following his course.
Near the Turanian lines, with anxious heart,They pressed ahead, all eager for their part.
Andariman came rushing through the dust,From Turan’s troops, intent on battle’s thrust.
He swung his gorz at Gostaham, who facedThe blow that sought to break him at the waist.
It struck his sword and split the blade in two;Fear filled brave Gostaham as danger grew.
Hajir came up behind them on the plain,And showered Andariman with shafts like rain.
One shaft tore through the armor of his steed;The horse fell lifeless from that piercing deed.
The rider dropped to earth and raised his shield,Prepared to fight on foot upon the field.
A cry rose from the Turkish ranks around;Their riders rushed like Divs across the ground.
They found a way to draw him back and guideHim safely from the fighting to their side.
From dawn until night rose above the height,Iran and Turan kept their troops in fight.
They fought in vengeance, striking blow on blow,And mixed the dust with blood in one red flow.
Both steeds and men were spent from battle’s course;Their mouths were dry, their bodies drained of force.
C3.30
Giv Battles Gurvi
🏇💪⚔️🏇🗡️💥🛡️👨👦🧠🪢🔨🩸⛓️🐎🚩🏆16 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
Giv meets Gurvi, son of Zereh. Their spears break; Giv, meaning to take him alive, stuns him with the ox-head gorz, hauls him against his chest, drags him from the saddle and binds his hands. He drives his prisoner ahead of him and plants his banner.
16 couplets · Giv named 7 times · in the full poem
Next Gurvi, Zereh’s son, rode forth to fightWith Giv, Gudarz’s son, a man of might.
They fought long with their spears in battle’s tide,And blood with whirling dust was scattered wide.
The spearheads scattered from their hands and fell,So fierce the combat, terrible to tell.
They took up bows and shafts and raced ahead,Like leopards charging fiercely head to head.
Giv sought to seize his rival living still,And drag him from the saddle, not to kill.
He meant to bring Khosrow a captive foe,A living gift from Turan to bestow.
When Giv drew near, Gurvi, in dread, dismayed,Let fall his bow before the charge Giv made.
He reached toward his sword in sudden fear;But Giv came charging, drawing ever near.
His ox-head gorz held ready for the fight,He roared as leopards roar in savage might.
He brought that gorz on head and helmet down;His stricken face ran bloody from the crown.
Giv reached out from his saddle at full length,And crushed him to his breast with all his strength.
Then Gurvi weakened, could no longer keepHis saddle, falling senseless in a heap.
Then Giv dismounted, bending to the ground,And Gurvi’s hands behind his back he bound.
He mounted, drove him running on ahead,And to his comrade’s side the prisoner led.
A banner in his hand, he climbed the height;His shout bowed down the mountain in its might.
He called for triumph on the monarch’s side,And blessed Gudarz, his leader battle-tried.
C4.63
The Pahlevans Are Lost in the Snow
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At sunrise the Shah is gone. The five chiefs search, give up, camp by the spring and talk of the wonder; then the storm comes and buries them. Zal, Rostam and Gudarz wait a week on the mountain, then send searchers, who bring the bodies back for burial.
53 couplets · Giv named 2 times · in the full poem
The chieftains bowed their heads beneath that word,The warriors slept in pain from what they heard.
When sunlight rose above the mountain height,The Shah had vanished from the world of sight.
They ranged across the mountain, every faceTurned toward the plains, but found no royal trace.
They saw no sign of Kay Khosrow that day,And turned with stricken hearts back from the way.
They searched the crags like men bereft of mind, Yet not a sign of Khosrow could they find.
Lamenting, stricken, sorrow in each breast,They reached the spring and halted in their quest.
Each bade farewell, his heart consumed by woe,To that world-ruling Shah, great Kay Khosrow.
Then Fariborz spoke of the counsel wise:“May wisdom with his spotless spirit rise.
Let us take food, and rest till night is past;Beside this spring tonight our camp is cast.
The earth is soft and warm, the sky is clear;I see no cause to move our camp from here.”
They all dismounted by the water’s side,And spoke of Khosrow, grieving as they cried.
“No living soul will see such wonders shown,Though years beyond all counting may have flown.
When did we see a king depart this way?What chief has told a tale like ours today?
Alas for all his fortune, grace, and thought,The majesty his noble bearing brought.
The wise will smile at paths no man has trod:A mortal king has walked alive to God.
Who knows what hidden fate has made him go?What tale that men will credit can we show?”
Then Giv addressed the chiefs with sorrow grave:“No warrior ever rose more just or brave.
None matched his manhood, bounty, noble birth,His justice, stature, face, or fame on earth.
He stood in battle, elephantine and bright;At feasts he shone, a crowned moon of light.”
They ate the food still left them from the day;Then soon in sleep the weary warriors lay.
Then wind arose and clouds obscured the sky,Which took the aspect of a lion’s eye.
The snow unfurled its sail of blinding white;Across the plain, each lance was lost to sight.
A heavy, raging snowfall swept around,And leveled all the wide expanse of ground.
The helpless heroes perished in the snow: Tus, Gostaham, and Fariborz lay low;
With valiant Giv and young Bijan, they passed, Enclosed within that frozen tomb at last.
One after one, the snow closed round them deep;I cannot tell how long that grip would keep.
They struggled for a while beneath the storm;Deep hollows in the ground began to form.
No strength remained to struggle or to strive;Their souls departed; none was left alive.
Now Rostam, Zal, Gudarz, and horsemen stayedUpon the mountain, grieving and dismayed.
They waited three full days upon that height;The fourth day dawned and filled the sky with light.
They spoke: “How long must we endure delay,And on these rocks and in these mountains stay?
The Shah has vanished, borne like breath away;No trace of him is left to us today.
Where are the other nobles, then, withdrawn?Perhaps they scorned the counsel urged at dawn.”
A full week passed upon that mountain height,And grief had robbed them of all strength and might.
Distraught and grieving, worn by inward fire,They burned with sorrow, anguish, and desire.
Gudarz, the son of Keshvad, tore his hair,And clawed his cheeks in grief beyond repair.
He cried, “Who saw such grief as now I see?What grief from Kavus’s house has come to me?
My sons and grandsons were an army grown,Each one a ruler, with a crown his own.
For Siavash’s vengeance, all were slain;My house was overthrown upon the plain.
And now the last have vanished from my sight.Who ever saw such grief, so strange a plight?”
Then Zal spoke long, with ancient wisdom stored:“May wisdom with Yazdan’s decree accord.
Perhaps they yet may find the path and turn,When roads beneath the melted snow return.
We cannot live upon this mountainside;We have no food, and cannot here abide.
We shall send men on foot along the way;They may yet find the warriors’ trace one day.”
They left the mountain, weeping as they went;On those they loved each grieving thought was bent.
They mourned their sons, their kinsmen, friends now gone,And him who stood like cypress on the lawn.
On foot, the searchers found the fallen band,And bore their bodies from that frozen land.
Thus to the city they conveyed the slain;Such was the share those chiefs left to their train.
For each they built a tomb to hold the dead;Then ceased the mourning and the tears they shed.
Such are the ways the turning world has known;It never leaves the best of days our own.
It lifts one man from black earth to renown,And from the Kayanian throne casts others down.
For this, no joy; for that, no bitter pain:Such is the way of earth’s brief, fleeting reign.
Where are the kings and heroes of the past?Turn from these thoughts as long as strength shall last.
Family
- Parents
- Gudarz
- Children
- Bijan
On the maps
B4.3Kay Kavus Ventures to Mazandaran
B5.10–B5.11Kavus's Mazandaran Campaign and the Return to Iran
B6.1The Hamavaran Sea-War and Kavus's Captivity
B7.1The Frontier Hunt and the Clash of the Seven Champions
B10.15–B10.29Giv's Seven-Year Quest and the Flight Home across the Jihun
B11.3–B11.7The Realm Restored: Kay Khosrow’s Fronts and the Division of Commands
B13.9–B13.26The Siege of Mount Hamavan and the Gathering of the World
B14.20Rostam Fights Kafur the ManeaterWhere he appears
Named mentions by book, from the Universe Registry. Titles such as “the Shah” and epithets are not counted.
B4The War with Mazandaran6B5The Seven Labors of Rostam4B6The Folly of Kay Kavus6B7The Fight of the Seven Warriors9B8The Tragedy of Rostam & Sohrab28B9The Story of Siavash8B10Vengeance for Siavash and the Retrieval of Kay Khosrow131B11Kay Khosrow’s Kingship8B12Forood and the Snowstorm Campaign67B13Mount Hamavan and the Kamus Campaign43B14The Great Battle with the Khan of Chin23C1Rostam and the Div Akvan1C2The Tale of Bijan and Manijeh78C3The Battle of the Twelve Rukhs82C4The Final Afrasiab Wars and the Disappearance of Kay Khosrow51C5Lohrasp1E5Hormizd, Son of Anooshirvan1