Book B1The Crisis after Manuchehr

The mourning passed; Nohzar assumed the throne,Toward Saturn’s height the Kayanian crown shone.

He sat upon Manuchehr’s royal seat,And scattered dirhams, dinars at men’s feet.

The nobles bowed with faces to the ground,And pledged their hearts with loyalty profound:

“We are your servants, bound to you in trust,Our eyes and souls lie faithful in the dust.”

But little time had passed before his heartFrom justice and his father’s path would part.

A clamor rose, and day by day the landGrew old beneath the new Shah’s ruling hand.

He cast aside the customs of his sire,And met the Mobadan and radan with ire.

The path of humaneness he held in scorn;To treasure and to dinars heart was sworn.

The peasants turned to soldiers in the land;The warriors reached for kingship with bold hand.

From every province cries of tumult came;The world grew troubled by the new Shah’s name.

The frightened Shah wrote Sahm without delay,In Sagzar, Mazandaran far away:

“First praise Yazdan of Nahid, Bahram, Sun,Before whose will the high and low are one;

Who shaped alike the elephant and ant;No task is hard for Him, no power is scant.

The hard and easy bend to what He wills;Each creature bows, and all His word fulfills.

May mercy bless Manuchehr’s noble soul,From Him whose Sun and Moon obey control.

And may His blessings fall on you like rain,From cloud on cloud across the field and plain.

O world-tried Pahlevan, approved in fight,May heart and wisdom flourish in the light.

May sorrow never settle in your breast;Your spirit free from pain, your judgment blest.

Until my father closed his eyes in death,He spoke of Sahm until his final breath.

You were his Pahlevan, his faithful friend;On you my throne and kingdom now depend.

You guarded Iran while he bore command,And kept the crown secure throughout the land.

Now take the gorz of vengeance, strike with might,Or crown and throne will vanish from our sight.”

When Sahm had read, a cold sigh left his breast;The troubled state of Iran gave no rest.

At cockcrow, horn and koust were loudly heard;From Gorgasaran all his army stirred.

So vast the ranks rolled onward over lea,Beside them small appeared the verdant sea.

Iran’s great chiefs came out on foot to meet,And laid their grief before him at his feet:

“Nohzar has turned from wisdom’s ancient way,And drives the land toward ruin and decay.

His wakeful fortune sleeps; his glory fades,The god-bestowed farr withdraws into the shades.

If you would take the crown and royal seat,The realm beneath your hand would rise complete.

We all would serve you, faithful to your claim,And bind our lives and honor to your name.”

But Sahm replied: “Speak not such words,” he said;“How could the Maker bless so false a tread?

Who dares pronounce that claim upon this earthWhile Nohzar lives, of Kayanian birth?

If Manuchehr’s own daughter ruled instead,The dust before her feet would be my bed.

His fault is brief; it is not past all cure;The rust has touched, but scouring makes it pure.

I shall restore his God-bestowed farr bright,And make the world once more receive his light.

Manuchehr’s dust shall be my royal seat;Nohzar’s horse-dust my crown beneath his feet.

I shall give Nohzar counsel that serves well,And turn his heart from folly’s crooked spell.

Go, turn from what has passed and make amends;Renew your bond with Shah and loyal friends.

If Shah and Maker will not pardon you,Their wrath and fire beyond this world are due.”

The chiefs repented, bowed with humbled will,And pledged allegiance to their sovereign still.

Where Sahm advanced, the land grew young, reborn,Renewed in order, to allegiance sworn.

He reached the court and kissed the royal ground,Before the Shah, while all the chiefs stood round.

The Shah descended, clasped him with delight,And seated Sahm beside him in men’s sight.

He questioned Sahm and honored him as guest;Then joy returned, and gladdened every breast.

A week with rud and wine they passed in cheer,Till former grief no longer lingered near.

The nobles came and offered penitence,And bowed before his royal eminence.

From every land came tribute, tax, and gold;For fear of Sahm, obedience took hold.

Nohzar again sat shining on the throne,With farr restored and peace once more his own.

Then Sahm, as servant and adviser, stayed,And opened counsel’s door with words well weighed.

He spoke of Fereydoon and Hushang’s reign,Of kings whose justice left the world no stain;

Of Manuchehr, whose generous aid was sure,Whose justice kept both high and low secure.

By justice and by bounty they were known;No tyrant’s path could draw them from their own.

He turned Nohzar from crookedness to right,And taught the Shah to rule by justice’s light.

Nohzar accepted all that Sahm advised,And ruled as that world-tested chief devised.

He warmed the nobles’ hearts toward Nohzar’s name,And bound their loyalty to serve his claim.

He set the root of justice firm and deep,And taught the court due reverence to keep.

When all that needed saying had been said,The Pahlevan sought leave to ride ahead.

The Shah bestowed a robe of honor fair,And gave a royal throne of workmanship rare.

A crown and signet ring of royal state,With servants for his train beyond the gate.

And horses fitted out with golden gear,Fit for the chief whom all the realm held dear.

Two golden goblets filled with jewels redWere added to the gifts before he sped.

Thus honored, Sahm took leave with heart content;From Nohzar’s court the Pahlevan then went.

Toward Mazandaran then Sahm took his way;His spreading ranks concealed the plain that day.

Some time went by; the settled order stayed,And for a while the realm its calm displayed.

Yet turning heaven, as it wheeled above,Held out no peace, and gave Nohzar no love.

When word arrived that Manuchehr was dead,And Nohzar’s rule had faltered in his stead,

The news through Turan’s army swiftly stirred,And Pashang, lord of Turan, heard the word.

Then thoughts of war against Iran arose;He saw the hour to strike his ancient foes.

He thought of Zadeshm, his father of old,And sighed for Tur, whose vengeance still lay cold.

He weighed Manuchehr’s throne, his realm and might,His chiefs and champions proven in the fight.

He called the famous men from every side,The army’s grandees, proven, battle-tried:

Aghriras came, with Barman, strong of hand;Garsivaz too, and Kulbad joined the band.

And Viseh, quick of claw, came to the king,Sepahbod of the troops Pashang could bring.

Then Afrasiab, his son, was summoned near,Who came with haste, his spirit sharp and clear.

He spoke of Tur and Salm: “Revenge,” he said,“Should not beneath the garment hide its head.

No thinking man can fail to understandWhat wrongs the Iranians worked against our band.

The Iranians girded all their loins for ill;Against us every heart was bent in will.

Today is time for vengeance, fierce and near;Wash from your face the blood of every tear.

What say you now? Speak plainly, each and all:Give counsel fit before we sound the call.”

His father’s words made Afrasiab’s brain burn;From rest and food and sleep his thoughts would turn.

He came before his father, girded fast,His heart with ancient vengeance overcast:

“I am well fitted for the lions’ fray;Iran’s sepahbod I can match today.

Had Zadeshm raised his sword when young and strong,He had not left the world in shame and wrong.

Had he for vengeance bound his battle-belt,Iran beneath his mastery had knelt.

What Zadeshm left half-finished, I will bear:Revenge, and war, and kimiya, I dare.

My sharpened sword shall open every way;My hour of rising up has come to stay.”

Hot haste ran through old Pashang’s royal frameWhen he beheld his son of towering fame.

A lion’s chest and arms, an elephant’s might;His shadow stretched for several mil in sight.

His tongue a cutting sword, his heart a sea,His hand a rain-cloud pouring bounty free.

Then Pashang said, “Let battle now begin;Lead all my troops and seek the realm to win.

A father blessed with such a worthy sonMay lift his head beneath the shining sun.

For when his days have passed and life is done,The son preserves the glory he has won.”

Afrasiab, inflamed with wrath and pride,Left Pashang’s presence, vengeance as his guide.

Then opened every treasury door wide;He paid and armed the troops on every side.

When all was ready for the coming fray,Aghriras entered, thoughtful in his way.

Reflection ever was his chosen art;Sound judgment was the habit of his heart.

He said: “My father, tried in battle long,Among the Turks your valor stands most strong.

Though Manuchehr has vanished from the field,Sahm, son of Nariman, remains their shield.

And Keshvad stands with Gharan, battle-bred,With other famous chiefs whom warriors dread.

You know what Salm and mighty Tur enduredFrom that old wolf whose sword their doom ensured.

Your father Zadeshm, Turan’s king of might,His helmet brushed the sphere and Moon in flight.

He never opened talk of vengeance then,Nor read a blood-debt letter before men.

It would be wiser not to answer force,Lest this revolt spread wider in its course.”

Pashang replied: “Afrasiab in the chaseIs lion; war-elephant in battle’s place.

Go with him; counsel every deed he tries;Let wisdom in each matter guide your eyes.

A grandson who lets grandfather’s blood sleepNo rightful claim upon his line can keep.

When clouds have shed their burden from the sky,And rain has soaked the wilderness nearby;

When mountain, plain are pasture for the steed,And grass shall grow where warriors’ manes now bleed;

When all the world grows green with sprouting grain,Pitch then your royal pavilion on the plain.

Drive all the army toward Amol with cheer,Ride over grass and flowers bright and clear.

Put Dehestan and Gorgan under heel;Let waters run blood-ruby beneath steel.

From there Manuchehr once in vengeance rode,Toward Tur to claim the blood his lineage owed.

From there his army like a black cloud came;Now raise such dust against them in our name.

Manuchehr once was Iran’s army’s stay,And through him throne and crown shone bright each day.

Now he is gone; what fear can Iran bring?Young Nohzar is a raw and callow king.

Now battle Gharan and brave Garshasp too;These are the chiefs who wait in arms for you.

Perhaps upon the field of vengeance fought,Those two Iranian chiefs may yet be caught.

Make glad the souls of all our fathers dead,Fill hostile hearts with fire and burning dread.”

He answered, thirsting for a warrior’s name:“In streams shall blood repay our ancient shame.”

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.

At dawn the vanguard reached Dehestan’s plain,As morning raised its head from mountain chain.

The armies pitched camp two farsangs apart,Each side prepared for war with hardened heart.

A Turk named Barman rode to scout the field,Who roused the sleeping brave to sword and shield.

He marked their lines, their tents, their full array,Then rode to Afrasiab without delay:

He told him all he saw throughout the ground,Nohzar’s pavilion with the troops around.

“How long must all our strength remain unknown?Let me go forth and face their ranks alone.

I will meet them as a lion meets its prey,And show them who commands the field today.

They shall behold the prowess of my hand,And name no other champion in the land.”

But wise Aghriras spoke with guarded care:“If harm should come to Barman, chiefs despair.

Our chiefs would falter, courage would grow weak;Choose one unknown; no famous man we seek.

Then loss would not obstruct the course we take,Nor make us bite our fingers for his sake.”

At this Afrasiab’s anger filled his breast;He turned to Barman with a sharp behest:

“Put on your jowshan, string your bow, and go;Stand proud; no finger-biting shall we know.”

Then Barman rode and loudly gave his cry:“Who in Nohzar’s ranks will dare reply?”

Gharan looked round upon the gathered band,But none stepped forth to meet the bold demand.

Save aged Qobad, valiant, stern, and tried,Who calmly answered, courage at his side.

Gharan was grieved to hear his brother speak,And tears of anger marked his troubled cheek.

“With all these youths to face the battle’s strain,Must one old man ride out while they remain?

Your years have reached the time to leave the field;Do not confront this youth with sword and shield.

Look at the youth who waits across the plain;His strength is fresh, still free of age and pain.

Young Barman rides with lion-hearted pride,His strength at full, and fortune at his side.

His head is lifted toward the shining Sun;Do not stake age against so young a one.

You are the Shah’s support, his guiding mind;If you should fall, despair would strike our kind.

If blood should stain your hair of ancient white,And turn it ruby-red before our sight,

Despair will seize the warriors in the field;Defeat will come, and loyal hearts will yield.”

Qobad replied: “The turning sphere has weighedThe share of life that destiny has made.

The body’s portion is the hand of death;The warrior’s head wears steel until last breath.

The body’s fate is written: it must die;No living soul can pass that sentence by.

Through Manuchehr’s auspicious reign till now,Through toil and hardship I have bent my brow.

None enters heaven living from this earth;Death hunts us all from hour of mortal birth.

One falls in battle, pierced by sword or spear;Another dies when quiet death draws near.

The fallen body feeds the vulture’s maw,Or lions rend it underneath their claw.

His head is claimed by spear and cutting blade;Such is the warrior’s due when life must fade.

Since all must go, why dread the final call?My brother Gharan lives, both strong and tall.

On him our house and all our hopes depend;Prepare my rest when I have reached my end.

Prepare a royal tomb to be my bed;With camphor, musk, rosewater, dress my head.

Then lay my body down in endless rest;With Yazdan live secure, serene and blessed.”

He spoke, then seized his spear and charged ahead,Like a drunken elephant by fury fed.

Barman cried out: “Time sends your head my way;You should have stayed, for death has come today.”

Qobad replied: “The world has dealt me true;A man dies only when his hour is due.”

He spurred on Shabdiz, gave his heart no rest,And drove at Barman, eager for the test.

They clashed from dawn till shadows stretched in length,Each tested all his skill and hardened strength.

At last a dart from Barman struck its mark,And pierced Qobad, that lion old and stark.

The weapon struck him by the hip and waist,And burst the fastening where his belt was braced.

Headfirst from Shabdiz down to earth he went,And death fulfilled the fate that heaven sent.

Barman returned, triumphant from the fray,And bowed before Afrasiab that day.

The king bestowed a splendid khilat bright,A robe no lesser chief could claim by right.

When Gharan heard that Qobad had been slain,He led his troops in wrath across the plain.

Like two great Seas of Chin the armies crashed,And earth itself seemed moving as they clashed.

From the opposing side, with thunderous tread,Came Garsivaz, elephant-bodied, battle-bred.

Gharan advanced, a warrior fierce and strong,To meet the chief amid the surging throng.

The horses neighed, the dust obscured the sky,The Sun and Moon were hidden far on high.

Diamond-bright swords ran red as warriors died,And battle-cries rolled over every side.

The field became a sea beneath their tread,As cinnabar rained down in showers red.

The dust rose thick like storm clouds drenched in flame,Tabiras shaking marrow in each frame.

The beating koust filled cloud’s very brain;The sword’s soul reddened in the bloody rain.

Where Gharan rode, the lightning of his steelStruck down his foes and made their battle-lines reel.

Wherever Gharan wheeled his horse in fight,Like Azargashasp iron flashed with light.

His blows fell hard like thunder through the air,And warriors fell before him everywhere.

You would think diamonds scattered coral red;Yet it was lives, not coral, that they shed.

Afrasiab beheld the battle’s tide,And drove his ranks where Gharan’s warriors vied.

They fought until the night rose from the hill,And darkness spread across the battle still.

The struggle raged until the daylight waned,Then Gharan drew his troops back, battle-stained.

With grief for Qobad weighing on his breast,He sought the Shah, by boundless woe oppressed.

Nohzar beheld him, weeping for the slain,And spoke while sorrow filled his heart with pain.

His lashes long had known no restful sleep;Now from those eyes the bitter tears ran deep.

“Since Sahm has died, no grief has struck me so;May Qobad’s spirit like the bright Sun glow.

And may your worldly fortune long endure;One day brings joy, one grief; of this be sure.

No armor shields us when death bares its teeth;Earth gives no cradle but the grave beneath.”

Gharan replied: “From birth I gave this frame to doom;All mortal bodies seek the silent tomb.

Fereydoon placed this war-helm on my head,To seek Iraj’s vengeance where I sped.

I have not yet unfastened that old belt,Nor laid aside the steel whose edge they felt.

Gone is my brother, wise and steadfast guide;I too shall fall with honor at my side.

Yet take heart still, for Afrasiab todayWas pressed, and nearly driven from the fray.

When many of his warriors had been slain,He called fresh rested troops into the plain.

He saw my gorz and met me face to face;We fought with fury in that narrow space.

Still on we fought, our fury at its height;I drove until we met in open sight.

Then Afrasiab worked magic on my eyes;Their brightness faded under darkened skies.

Night covered all the world in darkness deep;My striking arm grew weary, strength asleep.

You would have thought the age itself had ended;The air sank underground as night descended.

The sky grew dark; the battle died away,And I was forced to turn and leave the fray.”

Both armies rested through the dark of night,Next day they rose again to seek the fight.

The Iranians formed once more for war,The koust and ney made earth itself roar.

Afrasiab beheld the gathered line,And ranged his troops against them in design.

The dust rose thick beneath the riders’ flight,And hid the Sun itself from mortal sight.

A battle-shout rose vast from either train;No eye could tell the mountain from the plain.

The armies closed, and blood began to flow,Like rivers running through the ranks below.

Where Gharan rode and challenged through the fight,Blood poured beneath the black dust of his might.

Where Afrasiab rose, the bloodshed grew;Across the plain a crimson river flew.

From army’s center Nohzar gave the call,And rode against his foe before them all.

They met in combat, spear against the spear,Like coiling serpents, each the other’s peer.

No kings had ever clashed in such a way,Yet neither man would yield or step away.

They fought until the light began to wane,And lengthening shadows crossed the bloody plain.

Afrasiab had gained the upper hand,Before night’s veil was drawn across the land.

The battle raged; more Iranians fell,While still the opposing ranks fought fierce and well.

The Iranians turned helpless from the fight,And scattered over all the plain in flight.

Nohzar was struck with grief and bitter care,For dust had veiled the star his crown should bear.

When koust fell still and silence filled the air,He summoned Tus, in sorrow and despair.

With him came Gostaham, both hearts oppressed,Their lips breathed sighs, their souls by grief possessed.

Nohzar revealed the anguish in his breast;He spoke at length, while tears his grief confessed.

He called to mind his father’s counsel past;His heart ran blood; his sighs came cold and fast.

“My father said before his final day,From Turk and Chin great armies would make way.

He said my heart would ache beneath their blow,And grievous wounds would lay my army low.

His warning now is proved, his words made clear;Those proud Turanian warriors now are here.

No book of famous kings has ever shownA Turkish army vast as this has grown.

Go now to Pars and gather those within,The royal household, women of our kin.

From there toward Mount Zaveh lead their way,Then bring them up Alborz without delay.

Toward Rey and Isfahan now make your flight;Go secretly, unseen by those who fight.

If they should learn, despair will seize the men;This further blow could break their spirits then.

One or two heirs of Fereydoon’s blood survive,Though few may leave this field of war alive.

I do not know if I shall see you two;Tonight one final effort we must do.

Keep agents watching, constant and alert;Learn how the world may help us or may hurt.

If evil news should come from those who fight,My royal farr will fade and lose its light.

Do not let sorrow bend your hearts too low;The turning heaven sends such wounds below.

Time casts one warrior down amid the fray,While one beneath the crown finds joy that day.

The stricken body soon is like the dead;It struggles once, then all its pain has fled.”

He stretched his royal hand and drew them near,Then clasped them both and shed a bitter tear.

Tus and Gostaham had gone upon their way,While grieving Nohzar in Dehestan lay.

Two days they rested; on the third the fightWas forced on Nohzar by Afrasiab’s might.

Like raging sea, Turan came rolling near;Horn and Indian daray rang loud and clear.

Before the Shah’s great tent the tabira rang,As iron helms were donned and weapons clanged.

No man had slept within Afrasiab’s lines;All night they honed their blades and laid designs.

Their swords were sharpened, javelins held in hand;All waited ready for the first command.

In jowshans, gorz-men lined each hill and vale,Their heavy weapons ready to assail.

No mountain, sand, or rock remained in view;From sea to sea a single thread they drew.

Gharan held firm the center of the line;The Shah stood as its pillar and its sign.

Taliman claimed the left with warrior’s pride,While bold Shapur secured the right-hand side.

From dawn till dusk the battle hid the plain,Till hill and valley vanished in the strain.

The sword’s own heart seemed swelling in the fray,The earth beneath the horses groaned all day.

It seemed the earth itself would split and crack,As steel on steel rang out with each attack.

When spear-shafts cast their shadows on the ground,Defeat began to close the Shah around.

Then darkness veiled the Shah’s auspicious light,While Turan claimed the mastery through might.

Where Shapur stood, the ranks were torn apart,And scattered troops gave way with failing heart.

Yet still he held his ground with fearless will,Until at last he fell, his body still.

The Iranians’ fortune turned its face away,And chiefs lay killed or wounded in the fray.

Then Nohzar and Gharan knew from the signNo friendly star would aid their battle line.

When Nohzar saw the field was lost that day,With Gharan toward Dehestan made his way.

Dehestan’s fortress formed their guarded wall;Its narrow passage gave scant room at all.

Along its passes they opposed the foe,And fought through every hour with blow on blow.

But when the Shah withdrew within the fort,The road to mounted battle was cut short.

Afrasiab arrayed his mounted band,At sleeping time dispatched them by command.

He summoned Kurukhan of Viseh’s line,And gave his charge with purpose and design:

“To Pars advance by desert’s hidden way,For there the Iranian baggage lay.

Seek out their baggage, every load and train;Pursue that prize across the desert plain.”

Gharan’s heart drew tight; his anger fiercely burned,Like a fierce leopard toward Nohzar he turned.

“See what this unmanly foe has dared to do:He strikes Iran’s veiled women through and through.

A countless force against our women goes,Sent down the road by these dishonored foes.

If he should seize them, shame will stain us all,Defeat upon our famous chiefs will fall.

If shame should take us, none could lift his head;I must pursue Kurukhan where he sped.

Grant me to ride, with your consent, today;I will chase that ill-starred Turk along his way.

You have your food and running water near;A loyal army still surrounds you here.

Remain here, Shah, and keep your courage bright;These walls and loyal men will ease the fight.

Do lion’s work where lion-work is due;Such courage best befits a king like you.”

But Nohzar said: “No other hand but yoursCan guide our ranks while danger still endures.

Tus and Gostaham rode when koust was heard,To guard our kin according to my word.

They seek our household and will soon be near;Trust in their strength and set aside your fear.”

The chiefs withdrew into the royal hall,Where wine was brought to soften grief for all.

The Shah grew drunk and passed behind the screen,With vengeance in his heart still sharp and keen.

The nobles left in sorrow and unrest,Their eyes like Bahman clouds with tears oppressed.

They gathered then where Gharan held his place,And spoke with troubled hearts of what they faced.

Their judgment settled: Pars must be their way;They could not rest upon that field and stay.

“If we delay, our homes will fall to grief,With none to grant our families relief.

If wives and children fall in Turkish chain,No warrior’s heart can rest upon this plain.

What warrior then will lift his spear again,Or stand with honor in the ranks of men?”

So Shidush, Keshvad, Gharan all agreed,And made their plans with urgency and speed.

At midnight’s depth they armed and took their way,With hearts weighed down by what the dawn might say.

Then Gharan, battle-ready, led his train,And took a fighting army from the plain.

That night they reached White Castle’s guarded gate,Their hearts without much hope against their fate.

There Gazhdaham stood firm against the foe;His wakeful warriors let no peril grow.

Across the fortress Barman blocked the way,With elephants and warriors in array.

Gharan recalled his brother’s blood once shed,And bound his battle-belt to avenge the dead.

He armed himself and drove his forces on,With vengeance burning fiercely before dawn.

His champions followed close behind their guide,As all at once toward Pars he turned to ride.

Then Barman came, like lion fierce and grim,To meet the storm that now advanced on him.

Gharan beheld him charging through the fight,Amid the blood-dark dust with furious might.

Like lions they grappled in the bloody fray,And Gharan gave him no time for delay.

He charged at once and called on Yazdan’s aid,His heart on vengeance and on battle stayed.

Then Gharan drove his spear through Barman’s belt,And broke the frame beneath the blow he dealt.

Headfirst he tumbled from his steed in flight;The sun within the shining sphere lost light.

His men beheld their champion dead outright;His army broke and scattered at the sight.

Thus Gharan rode toward Pars with steady grace,To guard the homes and honor of his race.

When Nohzar learned that Gharan had withdrawn,He mounted fast and followed swiftly on.

He spurred his horse to flee the coming doom,Before the turning sky could seal his tomb.

Afrasiab heard that Nohzar rode away,And gathered troops to hunt him down that day.

Like some fierce lion driving down its prey,He closed the gap and barred the fleeing way.

When Afrasiab pressed close upon his line,Nohzar saw flight and battle intertwine.

Afrasiab sought the Shah amid the rout,And pressed to seize him, hemming him about.

They fought from darkest night till high the Sun,And dust concealed the ruin being done.

The earth grew dark beneath the trampling tread,As strength gave way and hope was nearly dead.

At last the Shah was taken in the field,With twelve hundred great nobles made to yield.

Though many tried to break and flee the snare,They found no path, no refuge anywhere.

Afrasiab in chains secured them all,The Shah and chiefs brought low by fortune’s fall.

Though heaven sit beside you as a friend,None can escape the turning without end.

It grants the crown, the throne, the kingly name,Then strips them bare and leaves but ash and shame.

It plays as friend, then swiftly turns to foe,Now gives the kernel, then the husk below.

The world is cunning, skilled in every game,And every moment starts another frame.

Though one may rise until his head meets cloud,His final dwelling lies beneath earth’s shroud.

Afrasiab gave orders far and wide:“Search cave and mountain, wilderness and tide.

Seek Gharan till the warrior is found;Let him not flee beyond our army’s bound.”

But when he heard that Gharan had withdrawnTo guard the royal women, peace was gone.

“Let Barman go,” he said, “with lion’s might,And seize the chief before he leaves our sight.”

They told him then how Barman had been slain,And from his horse was cast upon the plain.

Then Afrasiab grieved; no food could please,Nor rest nor sleep could bring his spirit ease.

He turned to Viseh: “Harden now your heart;Your son is dead; prepare to play your part.

When Gharan, Kaveh’s son, comes armed to fight,The leopard checks before his spear in fright.

Now gird yourself and ride upon his track;Lead forth a seasoned force and strike him back.”

Viseh, sepahbod of Turan’s array,Set forth for vengeance with his troops that day.

Before he reached Gharan upon the plain,He found his son among the Turan slain.

There lay his son where blood had soaked the ground,His torn standard and overturned koust around.

His shroud was tulip-red where he lay still;His yellow face was past all hurt and ill.

Around him Turan’s chiefs lay cut and hewn,All cast aside across the field, and strewn.

The sight so struck Viseh with grief and pain,It seemed his heart had split beneath the strain.

Hot tears poured down; his sight was blurred with woe,He spurred his horse and charged against the foe.

Like some swift-moving cloud he thundered on,And tumult filled the world where he had gone.

Word reached Gharan that Viseh now drew near,With victory and farr, his army at his rear.

Gharan sent Tazi steeds toward Nimruz’s way,To speed ahead before the close of day.

Then Gharan came from Pars upon the plain,Prepared to meet the fierce Turanian train.

Upon his left an army came in view,And from beneath its march the dust-cloud grew.

When from the plain a rising dust was seen,A sable banner pierced the murky screen.

From out the haze the Turan army came,With Viseh leading, fierce with grief and flame.

Both armies formed, their battle-lines arrayed,Each side prepared to test the other’s blade.

Then Viseh cried: “The wind has swept awayYour crown and throne and all their proud display!

From Ghanooj, Kabul, Ghaznin, Zabul’s land,Our royal signs now mark what we command.

Where will you seek a shelter or a shield,Now that your Shah is captive, far afield?”

Gharan replied: “I cast my felt todayInto the running stream and chose my way.

I did not leave from fear or rumors spread;I came for battle, not to turn my head.

Your son I sought and struck him down in fight;Now you shall learn what vengeance brings tonight.”

They charged together; karnay split the sky,Black dust concealed the Moon from every eye.

The armies closed, and blood began to flow,A running river through the ranks below.

Gharan attacked; the armies clashed that day,But Viseh turned from battle and gave way.

Many were slain; bewildered Viseh reeled,His star brought loss; Gharan pursued no field.

He went to Afrasiab with streaming eyes,And mourned his slaughtered son with bitter cries.

From Arman’s lands the expedition came,Against Zabul, with vengeance as their aim.

Shamasas rode from Jihun toward the plain,While Khazarvan led on his warrior train.

With thirty thousand swordsmen at command,He marched them onward toward Hirmund’s strand.

With sword and spear and lofty gorz arrayed,They marched alert along the road they made.

With a goorab Zal raised his father’s tomb,And mourned for Sahm in deep, despairing gloom.

But Mehrab in the city held his ground,Bright-minded, sleepless, watching all around.

The messenger approached Shamasas’s tent,To bring the words Mehrab, his master, sent:

He reached the pavilion, bowed before the chief,And gave Mehrab’s greetings, smooth and brief.

“May Turan’s king forever rule in might,His crown endure, his fortune shining bright.

From Zahhak’s line my ancestry I trace;In this new kingship joy has found no place.

By kinship bought, I kept my life secure;No other remedy could life ensure.

This dwelling, seat, and realm are my domain,And Zabulistan lies beneath my reign.

Now Zal is lost in grief and far from sight,At Sahm’s ostudan, kept from the fight.

My heart rejoices grief has struck him sore;I mean to see the face of Zal no more.

Grant me some time before you move from here;A swift hiyun shall bear my message clear.

A clear-sighted rider, swift and wise,I will dispatch where Afrasiab lies.

Perhaps my hidden purpose he will know,And few more words will need from me to flow.

With fitting tribute I will seek his grace,And send all gifts that suit a sovereign’s place.

At his command, before his throne I stand,And place myself beneath his royal hand.

All kingship I will render as his due,And keep my heart toward him glad and true.

No hardship shall I cause your honored chief;With heaped-up treasure I will bring relief.”

Thus Mehrab soothed Shamasas where he stayed,While secretly a counterplan he laid.

Then like a bird toward Zal his courier ran,To warn Dastan and tell him of the plan:

“Tell Dastan all that you have seen this day,And bid him come at once without delay.

Two chiefs of Turan come with claw and blade,Their army like a plain with leopards arrayed.

At Hirmund now their forces stand complete;With dinars I have bound their marching feet.

But if you pause a moment in your grief,The foe will win his wish beyond relief.”

He reached Zal’s side and told the danger dire,And kindled Dastan’s heart to blazing fire.

When Zal received the warning, swift he rose,And called his warlike troops against their foes.

Toward valiant Mehrab swiftly Zal made way,His fighting army followed in array.

When he beheld Mehrab, composed and wise,He cast aside all fear before his eyes.

“What cause have we,” he said, “to shrink or flee?This Khazarvan is less than dust to me.”

To wise Mehrab he spoke with steady breath:“By night I will deal these enemies their death.

They soon shall learn that Zal has reached the field,To make their troops before his fury yield.”

He set a mighty bow upon his arm,And chose a branch-like shaft to deal them harm.

He marked each station where the chiefs might lie,Then drove one shaft straight upward through the sky.

Then three shafts sped to three posts through the night,And stirred the camp with sudden fear and fright.

At dawn the troops discovered where they fell,And cried: “These are Zal’s shafts; we know them well!”

Said Shamasas: “O Khazarvan, take heed;This long delay has served the foe’s own need.

Had you struck first, Mehrab would be no more;His troops and treasure would be ours in war.”

Khazarvan said: “Not Ahriman is here;I shall confront this Zal and know no fear.”

When morning broke, the tabira gave sound,And warlike cries arose from all around.

Within the city koust and karnay cried,Bells and the Indian daray rang beside.

Zal donned his armor, swiftly took his steed,And every warrior armed and took his lead.

With wrathful hearts and vengeance in their eyes,They rode to meet the foe beneath the skies.

With elephants and ranks in ordered line,His pavilion rose where arms and armor shine.

The armies met; black dust rose thick and wide,And made the plain a mountain at each side.

Then Khazarvan, with gorz and shield in hand,Rushed forth to strike and make his boldest stand.

He smote Zal’s breast so hard the jowshan split,And drove him back, though courage would not quit.

The chiefs of Kabul turned in brief retreat,And yielded ground beneath the battle’s heat.

Again Zal donned his armor for the fight,And like a lion charged with all his might.

His blood ran hot; his fury flared and grew;He seized his father’s gorz and forward flew.

Then Khazarvan advanced with roaring cry,Like lion fierce beneath the darkened sky.

But Zal surged on and would not quit the fight;He raised the ox-head gorz with all his might.

He swung the gorz with force no man could stay,And struck his head and drove his life away.

His blood made earth appear a leopard’s hide;Zal cast him down and passed him in his stride.

Zal pressed ahead, his warriors drawing near,And called for Shamasas to face his spear.

But Shamasas stood still, his courage fled;The blood within his face and heart seemed dead.

Then Zal saw Kulbad moving through the dust,And raised his steel to strike with battle-lust.

But Kulbad saw Dastan’s dread gorz and blade,And turned to flee, seeking the nearest shade.

Zal strung his bow and loosed a deadly dart,That struck his girdle at the chain-linked part.

It sewed his waist tight to the saddle bow;The army grieved to see their champion low.

With both great leaders fallen in the fight,Shamasas lost his heart; his face lost light.

His army scattered like a flock in rain,And fled in broken bands across the plain.

The chiefs of Zabul pressed the fleeing train,With Kabul’s king, who rode with might and main,

So many slain lay crowded on the field,The world seemed narrowed, every pathway sealed.

Turanians fled toward Afrasiab’s line,Their weapons loose, their broken belts a sign.

Shamasas fled the field where blood was shed;In wilderness Gharan stood straight ahead.

For Gharan came, returning from the fray,Where he had driven Viseh’s men away.

The two great armies met across the way,And Gharan faced Shamasas in array.

He knew at once what raiders caused delay,And what in Zabul they had done that day.

The bronze horn sounded, and the road was sealed;No path remained across the open field.

Then Gharan cried: “Take up your spears and fight;Destroy this routed army in your sight!”

Like drunken elephants they roared as one,And charged with spears beneath the darkened Sun.

Their spears fell thick like reeds across the ground,Till Sun and Moon could nowhere there be found.

They slew the routed foe in one long throng,And cast them down the road they fled along.

Yet Shamasas escaped with only a few,And fled the storm that tore his ranks in two.

With those few men he fled the darkened field,And vanished where the dust all light concealed.

Behind the fugitives the battle-cloudRose toward the shining Sun, immense and proud.

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.

To Tus and Gostaham the swift news raced:“The royal farr is dimmed, the crown laid waste.

The head that bore the diadem is lost,And fortune turned when steel his neck had crossed.”

Men tore their faces, rent their hair in grief;No heart could bear the weight nor find relief.

A cry of mourning rose through all the air,And grief spread wider than the heart could bear.

The nobles cast the dust upon their hair,Their robes were torn, their faces gashed in despair.

All eyes were wet, all garments rent and torn,As though the world itself had come to mourn.

They turned toward Zabul, mourning as they went,The Shah upon each tongue, each heart intent.

Each soul still sought the king now lost from sight,And every word recalled his royal light.

They came to Zal in anguish and despair,Their faces gashed, dust thick upon their hair.

They cried: “Our noble Shah, so just and wise!O crown of kings beneath the open skies!

Protector of Iran, the realm’s strong stay,The chief of crowned men now has passed away.

His royal head lies crownless on the ground,And royal blood’s own scent is all around.

The grasses bowed before the Sun in shame,Each growing plant bent low before its flame.

In him Fereydoon’s living sign was known,And earth served humbly where his hoof had flown.

Before renowned men Nohzar lost his head;Now we must rise in vengeance for the dead.

We draw our blades against Turanian pride,Renew the ancient feud and turn the tide.

The heavens weep with us in crimson rain,Our sorrow bears witness to grief and pain.

Let none withhold his tears or check his rage;For blood with blood must answer age to age.”

The crowd wept bitterly with hearts afire,Consumed with grief and burning with desire.

Then Zal himself tore garments from his frame,And sank to dust in sorrow and in shame.

He cried: “My sword shall never rest from strife,Till Resurrection wakes the dead to life.

My steed shall be my throne, my spear my tree,The battlefield my home till Iran is free.

The stirrup shall support my marching feet,A darkened helm shall make my arms complete.

No rest or sleep shall ever ease my soul,Until revenge has made my spirit whole.

No stream can match the river of my eyes,That flows for him whose glory never dies.

May Nohzar’s soul shine bright among the great,And dwell in honor far beyond our fate.

O Maker of the world, give us release;Renew our souls in faith and lasting peace.

All men are born to die, such is our doom;We yield our necks and pass into the tomb.”

At Sari captives heard the news relayed:Swift hiyuns sped; vast troops drew near, arrayed.

They neither ate nor slept for mortal dread,Of Afrasiab whose wrath hung overhead.

They sent to wise Aghriras their plea:“O chief, your judgment may yet set us free!

By your word still we draw our living breath;We are your servants; shield us now from death.

The King of Kabulistan joins the call,With Barzin, battle-ready before all.

With Gharan, Kharrad, Keshvad at his side,Long-armed, peerless in Iran’s ranks, they ride.

Few hands in Iran can match theirs in the field;Their iron arms will strike and never yield.

When these men come and raise their spears in might,Afrasiab will burn with furious spite.

For crown and throne he may in fury slayA flock of guiltless men before the day.

If you would free us from this mortal plight,We shall exalt your name to honor’s height.

Then scattered through the world, we shall proclaimBefore the great the glory of your name.

Before the nobles we will speak your praise,And pray to Yazdan for you all our days.”

Wise Aghriras replied: “I cannot dare;To free you now would lay my purpose bare.

My brother’s wrath would fall upon my head,His Ahriman-like rage would boil instead.

But I will seek another wiser way,Lest my own brother turn on me as prey.

But if Zal comes with warriors strong and bold,And seeks us out as destiny foretold,

When near to Sari Dastan comes in sight,I will give you all and quit the fight.

From Amol I will turn and leave the fray,Though knowingly I bring my name dismay.”

At this the nobles bowed their heads in praise,And sent swift word through winding desert ways.

From Sari sped a courier on his steed,To bear the message in their hour of need:

“Our God has shown us mercy in this hour;Aghriras stands our friend against his power.

If Zal with two companions comes to fight,He will depart and yield us to your right.

From Amol toward Rey his ranks will make way,And leave the road unbarred for us that day.

Thus may a world escape the Dragon’s hold,And live to see another sunrise gold.”

The courier reached Zabul and would not wait,And told Zal all the workings of their fate.

He called the nobles, told them all he knew,And asked: “What warrior will this task pursue?

O noble lords, O leopards of the fight,Which warrior takes this venture as his right?

Who bears a kanarang’s heart to face the foe,And lifts his head toward Sun to strike the blow?”

Then Keshvad struck his breast and answered clear:“I take the task; no danger brings me fear.”

Zal praised his strength and said: “May fortune guideYour path and stand forever at your side.”

From Zabul warriors rode with arms in hand,Toward Amol, a battle-seeking band.

When Aghriras heard their warriors drew near,He sounded his bronze horn and left the roadway clear.

He marched away; the captives still remained,At Sari waiting, fettered there and chained.

When Keshvad reached them, fortune turned its face;The key to all their bonds appeared in place.

Then Keshvad came and broke their bonds apart,And freedom brought new courage to each heart.

A horse was then made ready, man by man,And each prepared to ride with Keshvad’s band.

They turned toward Zabul, swift upon their way,Delivered now from fear and dark dismay.

When Zal heard news of their returning train,He gave the poor rich treasure for their pain.

His own robe to the messenger he gave,Then rode to greet the men he helped to save.

He wept for those released from lion’s claw,Whose rescue from that grip his own eyes saw.

He cast dust on his head in bitter woe,And mourned the slaughtered Nohzar lying low.

He led them to the city in array,And decked the lofty halls to greet their stay.

They lived once more as in Nohzar’s own day,With crown and throne restored in bright display.

And Zal gave freely from his boundless hand,Till none lacked treasure in the gathered band.

From Amol back to Rey Aghriras came,The king learned all and held his deeds to blame:

“Why have you stirred this trouble in my sight,And mixed sweet honey with colocynth’s bite?

Did I not bid you strike those captives dead?In war no wisdom rules a warrior’s head.

By wisdom no man wins a warrior’s name;In battle none can pause for pride or shame.

A warrior’s head to reason will not bend;For vengeance and sound wisdom never blend.”

Aghriras answered: “Modesty must stand;Some sense of honor must restrain the hand.

When evil lies within your hand to do,Fear Yazdan; let no harm be done by you.

The crown and girdle many men shall see;They will not serve one ruler endlessly.”

Afrasiab stood silent at the word;No fitting answer from his lips was heard.

One filled with fire, one filled with wisdom’s light;What place then has wisdom in a Div’s spite?

Like a drunken elephant, in rage he swayed,And for his answer reached to draw his blade.

Across his brother’s waist the sword cut through,And split his body cleanly into two.

When Zal received the news, his fury blazed;His wrath for famed Aghriras now was raised.

“His fortune now shall darken and decay;His throne shall fall and all his luck give way.”

The bronze horn rang; the koust was tightly bound,His ranks like rooster’s eye were gathered round.

In wrath he marched toward Pars with spear in hand,His heart sought vengeance as he crossed the land.

From sea to sea the ranks of men were spread,While dust veiled Moon and Sun above each head.

Afrasiab heard what Dastan had begun,The warlike scheme the seasoned chief had spun.

Toward Khar of Rey he led his gathered force,Arrayed for battle, firm upon his course.

By night and day the outposts clashed in fight,Till all the world seemed cast in one same light.

Two weeks they fought; famed men on both sides fell,Till weariness on horse and foot befell.

One night as Zal sat speaking with his chiefs,Of Afrasiab they spoke and war’s deep griefs.

He said: “Though brave our men and sharp of mind,Without a Shah we drift, astray and blind.

The army is like a ship upon the sea,The Shah its wind and sail, its mastery.

A king must spring from Khosrow’s royal line,And keep the ancient wisdom as his sign.

We lack not strength, nor warriors proved in fight,But none without true wisdom claims the right.

If Tus and Gostaham possessed the farr,The crown might rest on one beneath that star.

The crown demands a man of royal birth,With divine farr and wisdom proving worth.”

They searched the line of Fereydoon again,And found but one fit heir among all men:

Zav, the son of Tahmasp, of noble line,His might Kayanian, farhang his sign.

Then Gharan rode with chosen men of fame,To bear to Zav the summons and his claim:

A Mobad and a marzban rode beside,With chosen warriors gathered for the ride.

“In you the crown of Fereydoon shines bright;By Zal and all Iran, you hold the right.”

On an auspicious day he took the throne,The Kayanian crown upon his brow was shown.

The mighty bowed, rich offerings were bestowed,And Zal himself the path of homage showed.

Though eighty years already marked his frame,He took Iran’s high throne and kingly name.

Five years he ruled with wisdom, calm, and care,And made the world seem young and just and fair.

He checked the army from all evil ways,His heart communed with pure Yazdan in praise.

No man was seized or bound beneath his reign,And little blood was shed upon the plain.

Then hardship came and famine gripped the land,The earth and plants grew thirsty on every hand.

A famine came: no rain, no drop of dew;The fields lay bare, no living green thing grew.

The herbs were parched, the soil was cracked and dry,And bread against a dirham men would buy.

Five months the armies faced each other still,And fought each day with hard, relentless will.

But famine drained their strength and broke their pride,Till warp and weft of both their armies died.

Then both sides cried: “The fault is ours alone;This suffering is the harvest we have sown.”

At last an envoy came to Zav and said:“This passing world has filled our lives with dread.

Let us divide the earth in fair accord,And bless each other, sheathing every sword.”

The famous chiefs let warfare leave their mind;Their hardship left no time for war behind.

Both sides agreed no ancient feud to keep,Nor wake old hatreds from their buried sleep.

They set the bounds as justice would decree,And let the quarrels of the past now be.

From Jihun east toward Chin and Khutan’s bound,They marked the lands where Turan’s rule was found.

These regions fell to Turan’s ruling might,As part of that agreed and settled right.

Where khargah tents began, Zal stayed his hand,And pressed no farther into Turan’s land.

From Turan’s side no Turk might cross the bound,So each realm kept the limits they had found.

Thus were the borders fixed and conflict stilled,And long with peace the weary world was filled.

Then aged Zav led Iran’s ranks to Pars;Though old, he made earth young beneath the stars.

While Zal returned to Zabul’s guarded height,The people welcomed him with hearts made light.

Throughout the world men clasped each other then,And peace restored the bonds between all men.

The thunder through the mountains rolled and roared;Earth’s scent and color were again restored.

The land grew green with streams and blooming pride,Renewed in beauty like a youthful bride.

When men assume the leopard’s savage way,Time darkens and their ease is swept away.

Zav gathered chiefs and gave his thanks to God,Who turned the barren fields to fruitful sod.

The key to plenty born from hardship’s hourLay in the World-Creator’s sovereign power.

They held great feasts and cast aside their hate,And drove out feud that once had ruled their fate.

For five full years of Zav’s appointed reign,No further hardship touched the fertile plain.

Then Time grew weary of the reign of right,And longed once more to feel the lion’s might.

When eighty-six years weighed upon his frame,The Sun-like ruler withered all the same.

Then Iran’s fortune slowed and lost its glow,And just Zav died, and grief returned below.