Book B14The Great Battle with the Khan of Chin

Wise sage, begin now in the Maker’s name,Let no name but His own your tongue proclaim.

He guides through good and bad; His power sustainsThe circling heavens, where His order reigns.

He made the soul and wisdom; give Him praise,For none but He is worthy of our lays.

Your days pass by; another home will beYour place of rest beyond the life you see.

But first recount this tale from ancient lore,The dehqan’s treasured record from his store.

Soon word reached Chin’s Khan: “Kamus is dead;His life upon the field of vengeance fled.

For chiefs of Balkh and Shakn, that bitter dayGrew dark; on Kashan, too, the shadow lay.”

All looked at one another there and cried,“What warrior wields such might on Iran’s side?

Who is this man? What name does he possess?Who in the world can meet him with success?”

Then Houman spoke to Piran, lion-bold:“Today I have borne more war than I can hold.

How can our warriors still confront the foe,When brave Kamus has fallen to the blow?

He was a peerless chief; no other manHad such an elephantine build or span.

Whoever bound Kamus with twisted cordUpon the field, and mastered such a lord,

Could seize an elephant’s head, lift it high,And dash it to the ground beneath the sky.

For you and me, no boast is fitting now;Hold not your head so high, but learn to bow.”

The troops, distressed by brave Kamus’s doom,Came weeping to the Khan in bitter gloom.

Then Piran bowed and praised the Khan on high:“O lord above the dome of azure sky,

You have beheld and heard how we have faredFrom first to last, what grief and loss we shared.

Devise the cure yourself for our mischance;Tell no one; weigh alone our next advance.

Choose from our spies a watchman keen of sight,Who brings all hidden matters into light.

Find who he is, this warrior fierce and grim,And who among our ranks can challenge him.

Then we will all go forth and face our death,And fight him on the field with final breath.”

The Khan replied, “This grief weighs hard on me;I too would learn who this grim chief may be.

Who is this dreadful warrior, whose handCan bind great lions and bring them to the sand?

Yet death admits no cure beneath the sky;Wishes and prayers and vigor fail and die.

For death’s appointed end we all are born,And bow our necks to fate though hearts are torn.

No man escapes the circling sky’s command,Though he could crush an elephant by hand.

Do not let grief for fallen Kamus rise;He died within those coils before your eyes.

The man who slew Kamus shall soon be bound;My kamand’s coils shall bring him to the ground.

I shall make all Iran a river’s bed,To please King Afrasiab,” the ruler said.

He gathered nobles from the army’s best,Brave swordsmen, battle-hardened and war-pressed.

He said, “This daring rider in the frayCasts his kamand and carries chiefs away.

Find where he stands among the ranks in sight,Upon the army’s left wing or its right.

Ask of his country and his name; then weShall plan the ending of his destiny.”

A faithful warrior of proven name,Chingish stepped forth to seek a warrior’s fame.

A man of valor, eager for the fray,He volunteered to meet the foe that day.

He said, “Exalted Khan, may all men knowTheir need for all the favor you bestow.

Though like a lion he commands the field,I shall strike him down and make his valor yield.

I shall fight him single-handed in the fray,And turn his proud renown to shame that day.

I shall avenge Kamus, cut down in death,Restore his honor past his final breath.”

The Khan applauded him; he then kissed the groundBefore the Khan, in homage most profound.

The Khan said, “Win this vengeance in my name;Bring me his severed head and end his fame.

I will give gems from all my hoarded store,So you shall never labor anymore.”

Chingish spurred forth like Azargashasp’s flame,Across the field the eager rider came.

He neared Iran’s ranks, where the warriors stood,Drew from his quiver a shaft of khadang wood.

He cried: “This field is mine; I hold command;The heads of famous chiefs are in my hand.

Let that bold kamand-flinger come in sight,Who casts his cord, then shoots his shafts in fight.

The man who captured brave Kamus that dayShall leave his place in life and fade away.”

He roamed and cried: “Where is that lion-man?Let him ride out and answer if he can.”

Then Rostam stirred, his gorz gripped at his side,And mounted Rakhsh; aloud the hero cried:

“I grant the crowns and lay the lions low;I have Rakhsh, arrows, kamand, and my bow.

For you, as for Kamus, the hour has comeTo rub your eyes in dust and lie there dumb.”

Chingish replied, “Declare your name and line;What purpose brings you forth to challenge mine?

That I may know whose blood I shed today,When dust of battle darkens all the way.”

Then Rostam answered, “Wretch, may bloom departFrom that ill-fated tree of which you are part,

That bears such fruit as you within the bower,And counts you with its yield; may it not flower!

My name and spearpoint both foretell your fall;Your head must leave your body, once for all.”

The insolent came wind-like, strung his bow,And set its dark tips bending toward his foe.

His bow was like a cloud; the arrows spedToward jowshan and Babr-e Bayan; overhead

Rostam raised his shield, for he could tellThose shafts would pierce his jowshan, which served well.

Then Rostam cried: “Stand firm, you horseman bold;You soon shall have more war than you can hold.”

Chingish beheld that elephantine frame,Tall as a garden cypress, as he came.

He saw the steed, a hill beneath a hill,Unwearied; and he lost his fighting will.

He thought, “To flee is better than to stayAnd set my own life in destruction’s way.”

He spurred his heavy charger into flight,And sought his army, fleeing from the fight.

Then Rostam spurred brave Rakhsh, a streak of flame,And swiftly after that proud rider came.

Then Rostam reached him; voices rent the sky,And all the plain rang out with that great cry.

Then Rostam seized the tail of Chingish’s steed,Both armies watched, astonished at the deed.

He held it fast; then Chingish, gripped by fear,Flung himself down and left the saddle clear.

His helmet fell; for zanhar then he cried;Rostam laid him in dust, his plea denied.

Then Rostam struck his head off; hope and willAnd all his schemes lay powerless and still.

Iran’s renowned men praised the mighty one,And blessed the Pahlevan for what he had done.

The Khan grew sick with grief at such a sight,And raged at turning fortune and its might.

Rostam moved on between the ranks in view,A shining spear in hand as he passed through.

The Khan to Houman spoke: “Our time is tight;The earth grows narrow round us in this fight.

Go find his name and bring it back to me;You are astute; learn who that chief may be.”

Houman replied, “No anvil bears my name;Nor have I any tusked elephant’s frame.

Kamus had none to match his heart and handIn valor, judgment, mastery, command.

Do not despise the hand that overcameAnd bound that warrior of towering fame.

I go to learn whom God will favor here,And whose bright fortune rules this field of fear.”

As swift as wind he entered in his tent,And changed his helmet, on his purpose bent.

New standard, horse, and jowshan changed his guise;A different shield completed the disguise.

He neared and scanned that hero’s neck and frame,Then spoke with reverence and careful aim:

“Renowned one, master of the kamand’s might,By God, I would yield both crown and throne outright,

If I have seen your equal in the fray;No chief in this great army fights your way.

A warrior who seeks so fierce a fightMakes dust rise from a lion’s heart in fright.

With such a lion’s courage, why restrainYourself? You hold this battle in disdain.

Among Iran’s warriors I have seenNo man but you so dauntless in his mien.

Tell me your lineage, your native land,Your parentage and name at my demand.

I cherish warriors when their spirits rise,With leopard fierceness blazing in their eyes.

So tell me now your name, your land, your line,And ease the trouble of this heart of mine.”

The Pahlevan replied, “Your words revealA friendly heart beneath this courteous appeal.

Why not reveal your name, your native place,Your country, home, and people of your race?

Why have you come with courtesy and art,With honeyed talk and questions from the heart?

If you seek peace and wish to end this flame,Then find the hand from which our vengeance came.

Find him whose hand shed Siavash’s noble blood,And plunged our world in fire and crimson flood.

Find those in Turan’s ranks who bear the stainOf guiltless blood, the innocent they have slain.

His men, equipped horses, and treasure store;All that from Iran Siavash with him bore;

Send all of these to us, and then no moreShall I seek battle as I did before.

Then all of you shall be my friends, agreed,Aligned with me in custom, path, and deed.

I will not speed revenge or kindle strife,Nor cast the nobles’ heads from light and life.

I will tell Kay Khosrow; he will cleanse his heartAnd mind of wrath, till vengeance shall depart.

I shall send the culprits; he may pity them,And pardon every guilty root and stem.

Now I will name them; may each name and schemePerish like night before the morning beam.

First Garsivaz, who set this feud in trainAnd sought to bring Iran distress and pain.

Then all you know descended from Tur’s lineWho made this water bitter, dark as brine:

Gurvi Zereh, and all his offspring base;Let dust and ruin fall upon his race.

The wrong they did Siavash was the keyThat opened all these bonds of misery.

Then those who wrecked Afrasiab’s heart and brain,And made blood pour like water on the plain.

And those who had no quarrel with our land,Yet joined this hostile war with sword in hand.

The mighty men who spring from Viseh’s race,Two-hearted men who wear a double face:

Houman, Lahhak, and Farshidvard remainThe men through whom Gudarz has suffered pain.

If you accomplish all that I demand,And end this quest for vengeance in the land,

I will close the gate of vengeance; you may ceaseTo clothe your breast in jowshan, safe in peace.

But if you answer me with words opposed,The gates of feud shall never more be closed.

I shall set fire to all your country’s ground,And burn your fields and borders all around.

Shangul and Chin’s great Khan shall not survive,Nor one of Turan’s warrior kin alive.

You have now tested me upon this field;My deeds have shown the force my arms can wield.

I am a noble of Iran, long triedIn war against Turan and all its pride.

Full many heads I have struck down in the fray,Their winding-sheet the dust along the way.

I never spoke in such a way before;Revenge has been my purpose evermore.

Now listen well, and hear these terms of peace;Let feud and bloodshed find their just release.”

At this, Houman shook like a windblown leaf,For Rostam’s words had filled his heart with grief.

For Rostam’s words had made the danger plain:His own kin stood to bear revenge and pain.

He answered, “Lion-hearted chief of fame,No mortal stature can surpass your frame.

With strength and stature such as you display,Iran’s high throne should be your seat today.

You seem a mighty Pahlevan in fight,Or chief of Iran, famed for strength and might.

You asked about my lineage and my name,Yet gave no answer when my question came.

My name is Kuh, a warrior brave and true;My father Bosipas was lion-like too.

I came, a soldier, with these warlike bands,Summoned by Turan’s Shah from distant lands.

I seek your name so all may understandWhat you desire and what your terms demand.

If you will tell me what your name may be,I will return with joy for all to see.

What you have spoken on this field today,Before the chiefs and ranks I will relay.

Before Manshur, the Khan of Chin, and allTuranian warriors gathered at his call.”

But Rostam said: “Do not inquire my name;Report my deeds and tell him of my fame.

Love for Piran sets all my soul alight;My heart burns with affection, warm and bright.

His heart alone grieves for Siavash slain;None is more kind or mild in Turan’s domain.

Send him to me at once; let him appear,And we shall see what time will bring us here.”

Then Houman answered, “Chief of lofty fame,You wish to see Piran; so that is your aim?

Of Piran, Kulbad, what have you to say?Of Gurvi Zereh, Pulad, here today?”

“Why speak so much?” said Rostam to his foe;“Do not drive water uphill from below.

Do you not see these armies, and what broughtThem here? Because of you this war is fought.”

Houman withdrew, his face grown pale with dread,And hurried to Piran with anxious tread.

“O favored one, our ruin now is sure;This bitter business leaves no hope secure.

This lion-heart is Rostam, Zabul’s son;Now weep for all our army, every one.

Iblis would shun him; none can take a stand;Nahang at sea or leopard on the land.

He spoke and heard replies throughout our stay;He named our every wrong without delay.

He named me well, O brother, as he weighedThe vengeance due for Siavash betrayed.

He spoke of former deeds, of lands laid bare,Of thriving lands, his aims, and what was fair.

He named each injury, each bloody deed,And Bahram, Gudarz’s house, and all who bleed.

Then you will see I have not spoken lies;Fire draws its splendor from the sword he plies.

Of all Turan, his warm regard was dueTo you alone; no smile came into view.

He calls for you alone from all our men;I do not know what purpose guides him then.

Go see him, spear in hand, a mountain still,His towering form, one hill upon a hill.

He wears his jowshan, helmet on his head,And Babr-e Bayan round his body spread.

Beneath him Rakhsh, with all his strength and size,Seems a fierce elephant before your eyes.

Speak gently when you stand before his face;Keep sheathed your sword; let anger yield to grace.

He will not move until he speaks with you;For your sake only he remains in view.”

Piran replied, “Exalted one, I fearAn evil hour is drawing swiftly near.

If Rostam is the warrior on this plain,Our time has come for mourning and for pain.

An evil star already rules our fate;Fire grips our land; what ruin lies in wait?”

He sought the Khan, his eyes with tears grown dim,His liver pierced, wrath burning deep in him.

He said, “O monarch, do not hasten now;The case has changed; deep care now clouds my brow.

When brave Kamus was brought to death and shame,I thought that Rostam might be this man’s name.

That iron rampart, with his coils of hide,Is Rostam, kamand twisting at his side.

Though Afrasiab should bring his whole array,Not even dreams would show Rostam turn away.

The Divs grow weary when they face his might;One man or field of men fares ill in fight.

Long has he ruled in Zabul, much revered,And like a father Siavash he reared.

He wars like one bereaved, a grieving sire;The world hems in its king beneath his ire.

This elephantine chief has called me near;From all these countless ranks, his aim unclear.

I go to learn the purpose of his call,For care has brought my spirit near its fall.”

The Khan said, “Go, and speak with measured grace;Let gentle words befit the time and place.

If peace and wealth are what he seeks to gain,Why should our armies suffer on this plain?

Promise him many gifts, and then return;Such endless fighting we should surely spurn.

Since he remains in leopard-skin array,Then surely he is bent upon the fray.

We shall put all our trust in Yazdan’s might,And through His strength go gladly to the fight.

Then we will all advance and hem him round,And make his field of battle narrow ground.

His body is not brass or iron made,But flesh and blood and hair before a blade.

We face him here, not in the vault of sky;Why let your heart grow faint and reason die?

Though he may feed on iron, rock, and stone,Our shafts and zhupin still shall pierce his bone.

We outnumber them three hundredfold today;Do not let brooding sap your strength away.

This famous Zabuli, for all his power,Is but an elephant in battle’s hour.

I will show him how the elephants can play;He will never turn to battle from that day.”

Piran departed full of pain and fear,His heart torn deep by Rostam’s doings here.

He neared Iran’s line and then cried, “O chief,O lover of the fray, attend my grief.

I heard that you had called for me apart,From all Turan’s armed men, to speak your heart.

So from my lines I came to yours today,To learn what purpose drew me from the fray.”

The news reached Rostam: from Turan’s arrayA warrior had approached him on his way.

He came to meet him where the armies stand,An iron helm on head, before his band.

He asked, “What is your name? What thoughts abideWithin your heart that bring you to our side?”

The other said, “I am Piran by name,Afrasiab’s sepahbod, known to fame.

Your gracious words, which Houman brought to me,Have drawn my heart and brought me here to see.

Now tell me which Iranian chief you are,Whose might has drawn me from the ranks afar.”

He said, “Rostam of Zabul speaks to you,With gorz and Kabuli khanjar in view.”

When noble Piran learned that Rostam stood,He left his horse and bowed as honor should.

Rostam said, “Greetings from bright Kay Khosrow,O Pahlevan, whose noble virtues show,

His mother, Afrasiab’s daughter, too,Sends greetings; every night she dreams of you.”

Piran replied, “From Yazdan greetings flow,And from our gathered ranks to you they go.

May God, who gives all good, His blessings send;May heaven’s wheel beneath your signet bend.

Thanks be to God, my refuge, for this sight:I see you in your place, your spirit bright.

Zal, rider left from ancient kings of old,Faramarz, Zavareh; are they well and bold?

May this world never feel the want of those;Do health and fortune guard them from their woes?

If you take no offense, I shall relateA lesser man’s complaint against the great.

A garden tree I planted; from its rootCame leaves of blood and colocynth for fruit.

I watered it with tears through years of strife;In it I placed my treasure and my life.

Though once my treasure, life, and joy it stood,It brought me bane instead of healing good.

For Siavash esteemed me as his sire,His shield from harm, his shelter from the fire.

I gave my daughter and a province then,To make my race shine bright among great men.

But some have slain him and my daughter too,As though such bitter payment were my due.

Great cares and anguish from the king and throngHave bent my spirit under sorrow long.

God knows my truth throughout the world’s broad frame,Though calling Him to witness brings me shame.

Though many years have passed, and I have heardWise teachers speak their counsel, word by word,

The mourning in my house will never cease;Fire from my soul affords me no release.

My eyes pour blood where tears should find their way;Physicians tend me through both night and day.

This deed has left me harmed, my spirit tired;The heavens have not moved as I desired;

Before dark nights my eyes no shame can know;So much hot blood my cries have made to flow.

When news of Siavash’s death came to light,I lost all power to act, for wrong or right.

Between two kings and realms I stand in pain,Oppressed by helplessness and bitter strain.

I risked my life when Farangis faced death;Her father meant to take her final breath.

I hid her safely, far from royal sight,And never turned my back upon her plight.

Yet she now seeks my life, my peace, my all,As though I were her foe, condemned to fall.

All grief am I, O Pahlevan of might;Both sides assail me, each declaring right.

I have no way to flee Afrasiab’s snare,No other home or refuge anywhere.

My treasure, lands, and herds concern me still;I see no way to leave them, try what I will.

I have my sons and womenfolk in care;Such bonds and burdens are each mortal’s share.

When Afrasiab summons men to arms,I lose all rest beneath the war’s alarms.

Against my will I lead the armies out;I may not disobey, delay, or doubt.

Now show me pity in this hour of need;This is no time for warlike show or deed.

Had I no grief except for Pilsam slain,That single wound would fill my heart with pain.

Yet other gallant youths have also died,Who never had their fill of battle’s tide.

Now for my very life I tremble here;Why speak of sons and goods that I hold dear?

By God, Conqueror, Pahlevan, I plead,Let no resentment mark this hour of need.

Bear no grudge against my kin; keep God in mind,The Maker of the world and all mankind.

By Siavash’s soul, I would welcome death insteadOf jowshan, sword, and helmet on my head.

If our two armies clash upon the plain,Your eyes will see great mountains of the slain.

From Shakn, Kashan, Saklab, Hind they came,From lands to Sind’s great sea, all free of blame.

Though brought as soldiers to this field of strife,They neither shed his blood nor sought his life.

Peace with me serves us better far than war;Do not pursue this grievance any more.

Speak out your mind; far wiser are you than I,And mightier in battle beneath the sky.”

Rostam replied not as Piran desired,Nor gave the answer that his hopes required:

“Since I came here, armed ready for the fight,With all the Shah’s brave warriors in their might,

I have seen you act with truth in all you do,And seek that all Turan be truthful too.

The leopard knows that war and strife are ill;The rocks and mountains hold that knowledge still.

Yet when the king of kings seeks vengeance, thenWe rain our arrows as befits brave men.

Two roads to peace lie open to your view;Consider which is suitable for you.

First, send to Kay Khosrow in binding chainsAll those whose crimes have brought these bloody pains.

Then he may choose to end this bloody strife,And spare the armies further loss of life.

Send those who share the guilt for Siavash slain,Though absent from the battle on this plain.

Or else prepare yourself; come at my side,And stand before our Shah with humbled pride.

As for the wealth and goods you leave behind,Our Shah will grant you tenfold of their kind.

Forget the camp of Turan, all its gear;Let none of what you leave detain you here.”

Piran reflected, “What a tangled thing:To leave Turan and go before that king!

He asks for guilty men to bear the blame;He would bring low, in Siavash’s name,

Afrasiab’s great nobles, all his kin,With thrones and wealth, and rank to glory in.

How could I speak of such a boundless quest?No head or foot defines this wild request.

Brave Houman, Lahhak, Farshidvard would fall;They brought Gudarz such grief beyond recall.

All are involved; there is no course to show;This water has no channel where to flow.

I must devise a fitting course today;The road of war must be my chosen way.”

Then Piran said, “O Pahlevan, may youStay young and glad, with spirit bright and true.

To Manshur, Shangul, and the Khan I will go,And tell the chiefs these words, that they may know.

By hiyun I will send my words to shakeAfrasiab from sleep and make him wake.”

Like wind, Piran returned; his summons wentTo Viseh’s kin, who came with grave intent.

He told the secret: “Now our fall or riseHas come; let truth stand clear before your eyes.

This lion-hearted man is Rostam here;He takes this field in grief for one held dear,

With chiefs and lions out of Zabul’s pride,And noble men from Kabul at his side.

Since Rostam leads and comes as vengeful guide,No horseman in the world can turn the tide.

With Gudarz, Keshvad’s son, come chiefs of might;Tus, Giv; we face disgrace, compelled to fight.

He seeks the guilty men of Turan’s band,And spares the guiltless by his measured hand.

Who here, to your own knowledge, is not stained,Or by our king’s affection not sustained?

Behold, our country nears a ruined state;Iran’s bold warriors will command our fate.

All will be lost: young, old, the king struck down,The army, treasure, throne, and royal crown.

I told our unjust king, ‘Do not burn highWith storm and fire beneath the turning sky.

Some day, without a warning, fire will blindYour heart’s eye, and to ashes burn your mind.’

That proud king scorned the counsel I supplied,And all the words his wisest nobles tried.

He murdered noble Prince Siavash then,Without the counsel of the wisest men.

No ivory throne or crown will stand or thrive;No warlike elephant will leave alive.

Iran’s king will rejoice at what he sees,While pain will bend our warriors to their knees.

Woe for our gallant hearts, this lordly band,With farr and stature, crown and throne so grand.

All will be spoiled before your watching eyes;None leaves the battlefield with happy cries.

Their horses trample us in fierce assault;Our wakeful fortune’s water tastes of salt.

My heart burns sore for Houman in this hour;My soul for Ruyin flames with equal power.

For Rostam’s heart is full of vengeance grim;For Siavash his brows are dark and dim.

I go in sorrow to the Khan and tellHow dearly on my soul this vengeance fell.”

Swift as the dust, with sighing lips he sped,His heart brimmed blood; his eyes their yellow tears shed.

There bloody tulips bloomed on saffron cheeks;The Khan’s pavilion rang with mourners’ shrieks.

Kamus’s kin had come, a grieving throng,Before the Khan for redress of such a wrong.

They cried, “Afrasiab will no more dreamOf greatness, crown, or kingship’s golden gleam.

Why did a king who has no man to fightBegin this feud and bring us such a plight?

To avenge Kamus, with tearful eyes, we goWith Kashan’s troops to Chin, our hearts in woe.

From Chin and Barbar armies shall be ledTo seek revenge for brave Kamus, now dead.

From Buzgush, Sagzars, Mazandaran, callWith men bearing heavy gorz, one and all.

Let them make war on Rostam, shouting high,Till none can hear his voice or battle-cry.

If Afrasiab seeks vengeance, let him keepNo rest within his heart, no ease, no sleep.”

The kin of Ashkabus and Chingish came;Their drum-like clamor rose in grief and flame.

In anguish for their kin, their tears were shedLike gall on saffron cheeks, where color fled.

They said through tears, “From now, we shall not rest,Nor sleep while rage still burns within the breast.

We set Sistan on fire, and from that dayIts people bear the grief we bring their way.

We set great Rostam’s head upon a stake,In mourning for our chief, for vengeance’ sake.

His corpse shall burn to answer for our dead,Before his door his ashes shall be spread.”

Piran was dazed; his face grew dark, awareOf all their lamentation and despair.

He said, “Afflicted men, helpless and worn,Fed upon grief, by pain and care forlorn,

You surely do not know your time is near,And almost ended under fate and fear.”

He sought the Khan and said, “This little warHas lengthened into something grave and sore.

A nahang from the sea has come to fight,His jowshan leopard-hide; a fearsome sight.

For Rostam has brought troops from every side,And famous chiefs with vengeance as their guide.

Our toil is lost; the price of wrong is paid;Injustice reaps the ruin it has laid.

Afrasiab’s judgment failed; his own handSlew Siavash, and grief engulfed the land.

The senseless Garsivaz urged on that deed,And sowed for all of us this bitter seed.

Now Siavash was wise, of royal race,And Rostam raised him with a father’s grace.

To avenge his fosterling, that warrior’s mightWill bring the turning heavens down in fight.

No leopard’s claw, no mountain’s lofty wall,No trunk of elephant, no Nile at all,

Will stand against him when he takes the fieldBefore his troops; no strength will make him yield.

He rides on Rakhsh through seas of blood that flow;No ship is needed where that horse can go.

We must not count this conflict slight or small;All men have seen his power over all.

A fire has fallen from the azure sky,And smoke has filled our hearts; its heat burns high.

Convoke the sages, Mobadan, and peers,And seek a cure before disaster nears.

Find us a champion fit to take the field,That we may yet escape before we yield.

Perhaps we may escape this evil plightAnd reach our homes, though fortune’s strength be slight.

If we would set our troubled business right,We should not first have sought this feud and fight.”

The Khan, disturbed by what Piran had said,Invoked the Maker’s name in sudden dread.

The Khan asked, “What course now can meet our need,Against an army fierce in war and deed?”

Then Shangul said, “Exalted one, why speakAt such great length? What answer do you seek?

We crossed the desert and the sea to bringOur aid to Afrasiab, Turan’s great king.

We gained rich gifts and horses on our ride,And hastened here from countries far and wide.

We came like lions; shall we now retreat,And slink like frightened foxes in defeat?

We sprang like lions, swift along our course;Why should we tremble now before their force?

Because one Sagzi now has drawn so near,Why has this business filled you all with fear?

It shames us even speaking of one man;We must begin upon a different plan.

Grant Rostam is an elephant afield,Yet lions to his grasp will never yield.

Though fate has taken Kamus, strong and brave,We must not falter now beside his grave.

Since sleepless fear has seized Piran’s proud breast,He fears great Rostam, robbed of nightly rest.

What chief respects a man who begs for aid,His hand outstretched, his helplessness displayed?

No raging elephant is lion’s peer;Piran inflates his tale of strength through fear.

Stand firm in this resolve; hold fast your might;Let fear of him not weaken you in fight.

At dawn we will then raise our gorz for the fray,And lead our army forward in array.

We will make the air like clouds that come in spring,And on their ranks a rain of arrows fling.

Let horsemen’s dust and axes’ blows confoundAll sight of head and foot upon the ground.

Observe me well; when I raise my war-cry,Charge in full force and drive the dust on high.

Our warriors and our horsemen, brave and strong,Exceed a hundred thousand in this throng.

Shall living men behave as though they died,And shrink from one, with honor cast aside?

When I confront the Sagzi in the fray,Send dust into the sky from your array.

Let not a single man escape this strife;A coward’s heart is worthless in this life.”

The army heard Shangul’s words, fierce and bold;Young grew the hearts of men already old.

Piran said, “May you live in bliss always;May battle feed your soul through all your days.”

The nobles and the Khan of Chin acclaimedThe king of Hind whose fiery courage flamed.

When to his tent Piran at last returned,The chiefs arose to hear what he had learned.

Houman, Barman, and Nastihan drew near,Some glad, some grieving, all intent to hear.

Houman inquired, “What purpose governs now?Will peace take root, or war bend every brow?”

Piran told all that brave Shangul had said,And how the troops had pledged to fight instead.

Displeased, Houman then spoke with bitter tongue,And cursed the words ill-starred Shangul had flung.

To Piran Houman said, “What time will bringNone can escape beneath the heavens’ ring.”

He came to Kulbad, speaking on the way:“Does Shangul have no wisdom left today?

If this is Rostam, whom I saw, whose nameI heard from chiefs who knew his deeds and fame,

Shangul, Kundur, Manshur, Chin’s Khan: not oneWill live when Rostam’s onslaught has begun.

Withdraw awhile; let gain and loss be weighed,And judge what fortune has before us laid.

Of this vast force, whose heavy gorz mightSubdue the world, whose chiefs are bold in fight,

Two-thirds will lie in earth; their armor, redWith blood, jowshan and helm, will shroud the dead.”

Kulbad replied, “O wielder of the blade,Speak no ill omens; do not be afraid.

Do not torment your heart with grief this day;The matter yet may turn another way.

The wiser course is not to grieve or fearFor evils that have not yet come so near.”

Rostam called all his mighty chiefs to stand,And spoke of what the hour would now demand.

Tus, Giv, Gudarz, and Rohham came to hear,With Fariborz and brave Gostaham near.

Gorgin, the seasoned horseman, joined the throng,With Bijan, bright in battle, brave and strong.

The peerless chief addressed the gathered band:“Wise, wakeful Mobadan, hear, understand.

The man whom God makes fortunate and highIs fit for wealth and throne beneath the sky.

He shall possess the world, prevail in fight,Nor use his hand to trample what is right.

Our strength is all from God; why do we treadThis darkened earth until our days are dead?

To think no evil, choose the upright course,The way of God, with wisdom as its source.

The world is no man’s own; it is not wellTo take much joy in this uncertain spell.

Let kindness and uprightness guide each deed;Swift harm and loss from knavery proceed.

Piran came swiftly, deeply seared at heart,And spoke of Siavash, and of his part.

He told what kindness Siavash had known,And all the pain that kindness made his own.

His words and deeds had saved our Shah from death,And freed Farangis from the Dragon’s breath.

And yet my heart forebodes that wise PiranShall be among the first to fall for Turan.

His son and brother perish in his sight,With many noble kinsmen in the fight.

I saw in dreams how Afrasiab would fall,Slain by Kay Khosrow; I beheld it all.

The guilty all shall perish at our feet;Not one shall pass beyond war’s burning heat.

Yet I would never be the one to slayTheir chief and those who stand in his array.

He has no craft but truth and honesty;No evil thought is born from his decree.

If he fulfills the words he spoke today,Let ancient wrongs be set and stored away.

If he yields culprits, goods, and what is due,The war is done for me and ended too.

For in this world, the honest path is best;I have no further quarrel to contest.

If chiefs with thrones and elephants in file,Whose army spreads as broadly as the Nile,

Send tribute here and bow before our might,Then I will have no need for further fight.

Then let their thrones and treasure reach us here;From them no further trouble need we fear.

We will not guard the world by blood we spill;A better path is open to us still.

The world is full of treasure, throne, and crown;How blessed to win them all in high renown!”

Gudarz, on hearing, rose and spoke outright:“O generous chief, who follows what is right,

Pillar of troops, adornment of the throne,Through you the crown and royal helm have shone.

Your shining wisdom is your spirit’s bread,The wealth by which its living strength is fed.

Peace is the wiser course; but to begin,Remember that your ox is in its skin.

I will repeat a saying from old days:Now hear the ancient counsel it conveys.

As necks draw back when heavy loads increase,So wicked souls draw back from thoughts of peace.

Piran gives pledges now beneath the strain,But strives to break the peace those vows maintain.

The Maker shaped him with a double heart;Trust not his words or any guileful art.

When first we set the armies in array,We held a parley, keeping war at bay.

An envoy came from him to make it clear,‘I seek no strife, no drawn-out conflict here.

I want no lands or tents to call my own;I pledge my service to the royal throne.’

He heard our counsel, then replied, ‘I will goAnd tell my kin the things they need to know.

I have my throne, my herds, my treasure-hoard;My kin shall lack no good that these afford.

I will take a quiet corner, out of sight,Lest at the Shah’s court guilt should come to light.’

I said, ‘Your course is fitting; here remain.In Iran, throne and treasure you will gain.’

Piran, when we had spoken, went his way,And with the Div consorted till the day.

He sent Afrasiab a hiyun to say,‘The troops have come; now set yours in array.’

It seemed our parley never had been heard;The empty air dissolved our every word.

Upon the tenth day, Piran’s troops were spreadAcross the plain; his army swarmed ahead.

And now, O chief, he comes across your way,And sets another trap for you today.

He knows but guile and cunning in disguise,Yet scatters words that make him seem so wise.

Your kamand’s coils have filled his heart with fright;Well may he fear, recalling such a sight.

Their whole reliance rested on Kamus,On brave Manshur and chieftains like Fartus.

He saw Kamus, whose fortune now had fled,Caught in the kamand’s coils and lying dead.

Now Piran seeks to make his warfare cease;He dares not stay afield, but asks for peace.

Since he perceived his fall was drawing near,He used deceit and clever ploy from fear.

As for the guilty men and treasure due,Which he declared he would gather and bring you,

You will perceive when koust begin to sound,And Tus and Fariborz contest the ground,

He will himself lead forward in the van,And make fresh war according to his plan.

All that he says is false; deceit his guide;The dark Ahriman marches at his side.

If you are deaf to me, recall my son,Bahram; behold what Piran’s guile has done.

He flattered him with guile; yet in the frayThe Gudarzians lay in death’s array.

A graveyard of my sons he made me see;I must weep blood through life in misery.

My cure shall come from an Indian blade.”Then Rostam said, “Your words are wisely weighed.

You speak with wisdom; he is as you say.We differ from him, plain as light of day.

Yet since he has done good to us before,I would not press the feud forevermore.

Remember how he helped our Shah in pain,And grieved for Siavash, unjustly slain.

If he breaks faith and brings his force to stand,And comes to fight us with his warlike band,

My kamand at the saddle-straps is bound;Its coils can bring fierce elephants to ground.

Yet I will not imagine ill at first;Perhaps we may escape the conflict’s worst.

But if he proves a traitor in the end,No pity shall we feel, no care extend.”

Gudarz and Tus praised Rostam’s judgment clear:“The sun itself could not deceive you here.

In your bright presence, fraud and falsehood fail;Piran’s own words can hide beneath no veil.

May earth never lack our monarch’s crowned head;May you be his support through years ahead.”

Rostam replied, “Night’s darkness fills the air;Our minds are dazed by all the talk we share.

We will drink till midnight; through the hours of nightStill left, we will tend the army till the light.

We will see what God, who made the world, will show;What lies concealed within the things we know.”

He told Iran’s chiefs, “Tonight, with red wine,I seek a happy omen and a sign.

At dawn I grip great Sahm’s renowned gorz fast;It struck Mazandaran in battles past;

And shoulder it to seek the coming fight,Where that nahang stands firm in all his might.

Pavilion, gorz, tiara, crown and throneOf ivory, and elephants full-grown,

I will bring and give to Iran’s warriors all,If I take arms and answer battle’s call.”

The noble chiefs cried out, then each one wentTo seek his sleep and rest within his tent.

When dawn displayed the sun’s bright crown of gold,The moon’s face shone, a silver shield to behold.

But terror-stricken at the rising sound,She veiled her face and slipped from heaven’s round.

The tabira thundered before Tus’ tent;Earth turned to ebony with dust steeds sent.

The air was filled; the ground turned indigo,And Rostam donned his jowshan for the foe.

Gudarz, the son of Keshvad, held the right,In jowshan, steel gorz raised, prepared to fight.

Upon the left, Fariborz raised on highHis wolf-marked standard, reaching toward the sky.

Shah Nohzar’s son, brave Tus, held central ground,No empty space upon the earth was found.

Then peerless Rostam rode before his men,To shield them from the foe who faced them then.

The Khan held center; elephants stood high,Like Mount Bistoon rising toward the sky.

Kundur, the lion-taker, held the right,With sword and arrows, valiant in the fight.

Veteran Gahar held the leftward ground;The horses’ trampling tore the earth around.

Piran rode past the ranks from side to side,And came where lordly Shangul stood in pride.

“O lord of Hind,” he said, “your word holds fastAcross both Hind and Sind, from first to last.

You said to me: ‘Tomorrow at first lightFrom every side I will lead the troops to fight.

Then I shall challenge Rostam’s strength and fame,And bring his cloud-high head to dust and shame.’”

He answered, “I stand firm in what I said;No more nor less; I follow where it led.

Now I will face that captor in the strife,And sew him through with pikan to end his life.

I will seek revenge for brave Kamus in fight,And press the men of Iran with my might.”

He split the troops in three; the koust rang round,And dust rose up from all the trampled ground.

One part advanced with elephants in train;Its line stretched out two mil across the plain.

The drivers’ heads were decked in colors bright;Each wore a crown, with earrings catching light.

Gold collars clasped their necks; around each waistA belt of beaten gold was firmly placed.

Chin diba hung from elephants arrayed;Upon their backs were golden thrones displayed.

The karnay sounded; elephants of warMoved from their places at its mighty roar.

Then thirty thousand horsemen took the right,Proud and renowned, advancing to the fight.

Upon the left came thirty thousand more,With bows and shields of Chin that each one bore.

The Khan and elephants in central rankRolled up the earth between each moving flank.

Shangul went forth with Indian sword in hand,Between the lines where rival armies stand.

A parasol from Hind rose to the sky,Men out of Danbar, Morgh, and out of Mai,

Behind him, left and right, obeyed his call;He led them where he wished, commanding all.

When Piran saw him, gladness filled his heart;His fear of Rostam’s battle fell apart.

To Houman then he said, “Fate takes our side;Today our hearts’ desire shall be supplied.

With such equipment and this warlike band,Proud as fierce lions, see how firm they stand.

Do not go forth before the ranks today;Today and tomorrow, keep clear of the fray.

Behind the Khan of Chin now hold your stance,Two hundred riders waiting to advance.

If that Zabuli, black flag raised on high,Should see you, all our hopes of triumph die.

Let us observe what fortune brings to light,What games our wakeful luck will play in fight.”

Piran then sought the gathered chiefs, and foundGreat Rostam standing on the battleground.

He left his horse and hailed the chief with praise:“The lofty heavens draw from you their rays.

May fortune never sink, nor terror’s shadeFall on your face or leave your heart dismayed.

When I returned, I called their chiefs to meet,And gave your message, every word complete.

Who on the earth can praise you as is due?I told them all the noble deeds you do.

I spoke of peace and war; from every sideI pressed the matter; every path I tried.

At last they answered, ‘How can we comply,And by your counsel let this vengeance die?

Whatever gold and treasure he may need,We can supply; in this we are agreed.

But guilty chiefs we cannot yield away;Consider what you ask of us today.

The guilty are Afrasiab’s kin; take care,And do not speak in haste of this affair.

All those whom Rostam asks of us are great,Chiefs crowned and throned, all men of high estate.

How can we yield such chiefs? What can we say?Demands like these would turn a young man gray.

When such an army comes from Chin’s far strand,From Saklab, Hind, and Turan’s own land,

Why should Afrasiab seek peace today,When troops have crossed the land and sea this way?’

Their answer brought me blame from every side;So I returned to you with hurried stride.

The king of Hind seeks battle, bow in hand,With arrows and a blade from his own land.

Now from their troops a sea of warriors flows,All primed for battle, eager for their foes.

They do not know you; ‘Sagzi’ is the nameThey give you, knowing nothing of your fame.

Yet I am sure this band will weep, downcast,When Rostam’s storm of vengeance has swept past.”

When Rostam heard, his wrath became a flame;He cried, “Ill-fated man, you merit shame!

Why are you steeped in treachery and lies?Why walk where ruin yawns before your eyes?

The king of earth named your treachery clear,Apart from courtiers, where none else could hear.

I see your wisdom now, your vaunted art:From head to foot, all falsehood, every part.

You wallow heedlessly in blood, your own;Worse waits ahead than all that you have known.

Whether your land is Hell or Paradise,Recall the words I offered as advice:

I told you, ‘Leave this black and evil land,And choose a settled realm by wisdom planned.

Such life is worthless; look upon its cause;Your head lies in the Dragon’s grinding jaws.

You might behold our Shah, so young and fair,Just, gracious, loving, gentle in his care.’

But boar and leopard skins you choose to wearSeem sweeter than bright diba, rich and rare.

None will dispute the choice that you have shown;You now shall eat the harvest you have sown.”

Piran replied, “O man of fortune bright,Strong, glad, the throne’s adornment and delight,

O you whose wisdom fathoms all things true,May chiefs bring homage and all honor due.

My heart and spirit stand at your command;My soul remains a hostage in your hand.

Tonight I will weigh this matter on my own,Then speak before the chiefs and make it known.”

He sought the center, black of heart, his tongueAll lies; his spirit to revenge still clung.

Piran departed; both sides filled the ground,Which seemed a seething mountain all around.

Then Rostam spoke to Iran’s gathered might:“My arms are ready; vengeance guides the fight.

Let every warrior harden heart and brow;Let vengeance fill each one among you now.

A mighty battle waits for us today;Both wolf and sheep shall show their worth in fray.

The reader of the stars once said to meWhat fight would come; I feared what was to be:

‘Between two mountains, men shall mass for fight;A world of warriors there shall all unite.

The seasoned chiefs will gather to the fray;That strife shall strip the world of men that day.

Earth shall no longer bear revenge’s tracks;The gorz of steel shall grow as soft as wax.’

Whoever comes against me in the fight,Let no misgiving put your hearts to flight.

I bind both hands within my kamand tight,Though heaven stand beside him in his might.

Let none of you, together in the field,Before those famous chiefs lose heart or yield.

If death must find me where the armies meet,Upon that field my days shall be complete.

To die with my good name is well for me;I seek that name; my flesh death’s own shall be.

You need a name that time shall not efface;You cannot stay; why toil to hold your place?

Do not bind hearts to this brief mortal stay,Lest grief should bleed your hearts when torn away.

Wise souls count neither day as good nor ill;Let wisdom be the soul’s companion still.

Even lords of crown and treasure must not bindTheir hearts to this frail inn of humankind.”

The troops replied, “Your word commands us all;Above the circling moon we hold your call.

With keen-edged swords we enter in the fray;Our name shall live until the Judgment Day.”

The armies closed; a black cloud seemed to rise,As both sides pressed beneath the darkening skies.

That cloud rained shafts and swords upon the field;Earth was a sea of pitch, its face concealed.

Steel arrowheads and eagle-plumes in flightObscured the sun and blackened all its light.

Through dust the spearheads flashed; their points on highSeemed staining all the stars with blood-red dye.

Ox-headed gorz then crashed on helms and bones;The sky seemed raining down a storm of stones.

The earth and dust were drenched with gore and brains;The helms were smashed on heads across the plains.

The diamond blades flashed fiercely overhead;A cloud arose whose rain fell crimson-red.

Old Gudarz said, “Since first my wars began,And I took arms to stand a fighting man,

I never saw such slaughter on the plain,Nor heard the chiefs tell of so many slain.

The world is heaped with dead; amid these woes,One lies brought low, another takes repose.”

Shangul came forth before the ranks and cried,“I conquer lions; battle is my pride.

Where is that Sagzi? Let him now appear;I will test my strong right arm against him here.”

When Shangul’s voice reached Rostam, from his placeHe looked across the ranks and saw his face.

“To God I made this one, this sole request,In public and in secret, in my breast:

That some bold foreign chief from this arrayWould call me forth and challenge me today.

No Hind or Saklab warrior shall stay;Blades wrought in Hind and Chin I sweep away.”

He came to Shangul, calling out in scorn:“You low-born wretch, of shameful lineage born!

Zal named me Rostam; why, you man of shame,Do you now call me by the Sagzi name?

Then this Sagzi shall be your death today;Your jowshan, helm, shall shroud your lifeless clay.”

He circled Shangul on the battleground,Between the two drawn ranks that hemmed them round.

One spear-thrust lifted Shangul from his steed,And dashed him headfirst down with force and speed.

He rode across him, yet no wound was made;Then lion-hearted Rostam drew his blade.

Then from the foe came warriors, blade in hand,With poison-tempered steel, a fighting band.

From Turan, Chin, and Hind, in close array,They charged the Pahlevan amid the fray.

They ringed Shangul and bore him from the fight,Beyond the raging lion’s reach and might.

Shangul escaped; his jowshan, fastened tight,Had kept his body free of wounds outright.

With careworn face, he wept in grief and pain,And sought the Khan of Chin across the plain.

“This is no man,” he said, “nor has he peerOn earth; he makes the bravest shrink with fear.

A raging elephant on mountain height;We must advance against him with our might.

But let no warrior face that Dragon’s breath;No man alone can meet him save through death.”

“This morning you employed another tone,”The Khan replied, and made his order known.

He bade the troops together take the field,Like moving mountains, ranks that would not yield.

“Surround him; close upon him, every side,And take his life,” the Khan of Chin then cried.

That lion drew his sword with furious might,And shattered Chin’s left wing amid the fight.

Each stroke he dealt left bodies on the ground,Their heads struck off and scattered all around.

No mountain could withstand his strength that day;No elephant could hold his wrath at bay.

The warriors crowded round the mighty one,So thick they darkened all the shining sun.

With spears and swords and shafts and gorz they cast,Against the chief who stood alone and fast.

He seemed to stand where thick-grown reeds were spread;The realm became one winepress running red.

At every blow he sliced through ten stout spears,And roared like angry lions in men’s ears.

Behind him came the warriors of Iran,With hearts for vengeance and their bright swords drawn.

With gorz and gopal, arrow-shaft and blade,They seemed to rain down hail through battle’s shade.

Corpses and hands and heads and crowns were thrown;The field with helms of slain men thickly sown.

High heaven seemed like earth through dust that day;On every side, swords cleft the dust away.

The troops of Chin and Shakn filled the view,With Hind and Saklab, Herat, Pahlav too.

So vast the army, moving in its course,That sea and mountain wearied at its force.

Then Piran told the Khan of Chin that day,“Rostam is a raging lion in the fray.

He cannot be resisted in this land;No leader like him lives or takes command.

Whoever tells this tale, no sage will hearAnd deem it true, so strange will it appear:

A hundred thousand warriors known to fameCould not withstand one rider when he came.

This warrior is no merchant; yet they standBefore him, gathered here from every land.

This feud has brought Afrasiab deep grief;Where can he flee from Rostam for relief?

When he inquires, blame falls upon each head;He will ask how this campaign was fought and led.

If you provoke his anger, none shall saveOur heads from judgment or the waiting grave.”

Said Rostam to Iran, “This fight todayHas done us no great harm upon the way.

Now I will take from Chin both crowns and thrones,Their elephants and all the wealth Chin owns.

I shall give all to Iran’s noble line,And make this day with joy and glory shine.

Iran alone shall glory in this day;No other troops shall carry joy away.

I need no other helper at my side;God and the hooves of Rakhsh shall be my guide.

No man of Chin or Saklab shall remain,Nor any warrior from Shakn’s domain.

This is our day of triumph; heaven’s heightShall fire our army’s spirit for the fight.

Their evil deeds have marked them for their fall;The wrong they wrought brings ruin on them all.

If God gives strength, my shining Rakhsh shall showHis mettle where the ranks of foemen flow.

This plain shall be a graveyard for the slain,And salt the soil to blight the fruitful grain.

Let one of you ride back to join our force;Strive hard, and match the wind upon its course.

When I advance, let cymbals clash and ring;Strike the daray; let all their voices sing.

Let riders’ dust turn all the open groundTo ebony; let mighty koust resound.

Wield gopal; make the heavy gorz-head clang,As steel beneath the smith’s great hammer rang.

Fear not their countless ranks; raise dust on highFrom ocean’s waters to the clouded sky.

Cleave through the ranks of Chin and Saklab; raiseThe dust so thick it hides the sun’s bright blaze.

Watch well my helm, and when my war-cries rain,Charge hard across the dark and shaken plain.”

Then, like a raging elephant, he sped,Ox-headed gorz uplifted overhead.

He sought the foemen’s right and Kundur found,And routed all that wing across the ground.

Full many heads and helmets strewed the plain,Torn from the bodies of the warriors slain.

Then Sava, proud kinsman of Kamus, came,With high ambition none could curb or tame.

An Indian sword was ready in his hand;He came to fight where Rostam took his stand.

He circled to the left, then to the right,And sought revenge for Kamus in the fight.

“O mighty elephant,” he cried, “now markA Nile-wave rising, terrible and dark.

I shall avenge Kamus; this fight shall beThe last such battle you shall ever see.”

When Sava’s words reached Rostam in the fray,He drew his heavy gorz without delay.

He struck the warrior’s head with all his might;In agony, his spirit took its flight.

He rode his Rakhsh across him on the ground;Of Sava, not a trace could then be found.

The Kashani standard tumbled to the plain;The army’s heart was wrung with fear and pain.

No man remained to face him in the fray;He drew fruit from the thorns and barren clay.

Then Rostam left the right and onward spedToward the left; the army shook with dread.

Gahar of Gahan stood among the band,A lion-man with black flag in his hand.

He saw great Rostam’s helm; his anger grewAs though it tore his very soul in two.

“For Chin and all Turan, revenge is due;Before these ranks, I strike this Sagzi through.

Among the chiefs, this combat falls to me;My heavy gorz shall set our army free.”

He spurred to meet the Pahlevan in fight,And left the army’s ranks to claim his right.

But when he saw the mighty warrior near,He turned away and shunned the fight in fear.

He thought, “Gahar, you know how battles go;Kamus himself could not withstand this foe.

To flee while still alive, and save one’s headIs better than to fall beneath his tread.”

He fled to central ranks, his fear revealed,While all the army watched his courage yield.

Rostam’s great standard rose above the fight,A tree upon a mountain’s utmost height.

He followed Gahar, dust-like, as he flew;Earth glowed like ruby, air turned lapis-blue.

He speared him, pierced the girdle of his foe,And tore his khaftan and fastenings with the blow.

He flung him like a leaf torn from its treeBy mighty winds that strike and wrench it free.

He overturned the flag of darkened blue,As though Gahar were one earth never knew.

Iran’s men saw that deed on left and right,The dust of battle rose and veiled the light.

They brought the koust and glorious standard near;Gudarz and Tus, the noble chiefs, were here.

Iran’s central ranks cried out with delightTo hail their champion, victor in the fight.

Then Rostam said, “Send riders to my side,A hundred men of name, renowned and tried.

I will take their elephants and ivory throne,Their armlets, gorz, torques, and crowns as my own.

These gifts from Chin shall grace Iran’s great king;Before our glorious Shah these spoils I bring.”

A thousand men of Iran reached the field,In jowshan, each an ox-head gorz to wield.

Then Rostam cried to stir revenge’s breath,And gird their hearts for battle and for death:

“By sun and moon, our Shah’s life and his head,By Siavash’s dust, the honored dead,

If any warrior from this battle fleeBefore the ranks of Chin, beware of me!

He shall know bonds, the pit, and gibbet’s shame;These are the sole rewards that he may claim.

And on his head a paper cap shall showThe shame of one who fled before the foe.”

The troops knew Rostam’s lion appetite,That longed to claw the stag’s haunch in the fight.

They turned toward the Khan with hearts in pain,Their chief intent on the crown he would gain.

The mighty chief charged forward in the fray,And gave fleet Rakhsh the rein to lead the way.

Blood spurted upward to the moon’s domain;The stars looked down upon the battle plain.

So much dust rose from all that fighting groundThat no one saw the plain that lay around.

With horsemen’s shouts and lances’ heavy sound,No rein or stirrup could be seen or found.

The sun seemed torn apart before their sight;Earth groaned beneath the horses’ crushing might.

The air grew black as any Zangi’s face;No road remained across the corpse-strewn place.

Khaftans, helms, and bodies filled the battleground;Heads bade farewell to bodies all around.

The cloud of horsemen’s dust blew through the air;The clash of steel rang out from everywhere.

For name and honor, many chiefs were slain;They gave their heads upon the battle plain.

Then Rostam roared above the battle’s toil;It seemed the world itself began to boil.

“Elephants, bracelets, and the ivory throne,Crowns, diadems, and torques shall be our own.

In Iran they shall grace Kay Khosrow’s state,Our youthful Shah, victorious and great.

What use have you for crown and farr and pride,With all your skill and strength upon your side?

Hold out your hands for bonds; let each man standWith waist surrendered to the curved kamand.

Then to the king of earth I send you all;Manshur and Khan of Chin alike shall fall.

I grant you life, and nothing else beside;Your crowns and signets pass to Iran’s side.

Or else beneath my horses’ hooves this plainShall send its dust into the moon’s domain.”

The Khan let loose his tongue, his anger flamed:“Base miscreant, in soul and body shamed!

Cursed be Iran, its Shah, its whole array;You need my mercy on this battle day.

You Sagzi, vilest creature of the earth,Would make Chin’s king a soldier, stripped of worth?”

A grievous rain of arrows filled the air,Like autumn winds that strip a tree laid bare.

The air was clothed with plumes from eagle-wings;No warrior dreamed of such embattled things.

Gudarz beheld that diamond rain with dread,Alarmed for Rostam’s safety there, and said

To Rohham: “Laggard, hurry to his aid;Lead two hundred horsemen, all well arrayed.

With bows of Chakh and khadang shafts attack;Guard peerless Rostam’s battle-hardened back.”

Then he told Giv, “Bring all our forces round;Let foes no longer linger on this ground.

No time for rest or counsel here today,Nor dressing ranks in order for the fray.

Advance toward the right wing with the band;Find where Piran and Houman make their stand.

May blessing never fall upon that clan;On vengeance’s day, a curse is all they plan.

Mark how before the Khan great Rostam’s blowHurls heaven down to earth, and lays it low.”

Rohham sprang like a leopard, fierce and fast,And guarded Rostam’s rear as arrows passed.

Then Rostam said, “I fear my Rakhsh is spent;On foot, in blood and sweat, I will not relent.

This army swarms like ants and locusts; saveThe elephants and drivers from the grave.

As gifts to Kay Khosrow these all shall go,New gifts from Shingan and from Chin, our foe.”

He cried, “May dark and faithless AhrimanBe wed to Chin and all of Turkistan!

You luckless men, how wretched is your plight,All steeped in grief and sorrow in this fight!

Have you not heard of Rostam’s name before?Does wisdom dwell within your minds no more?

No dragon is to him a worthy foe;He seeks out elephants his strength to show.

Are you not weary of this fight? My hoardHolds only gifts of gorz and of the sword.”

He loosed the kamand from his saddle’s side,And on the pommel laid the coiled rawhide.

He urged his charger on; a shout aroseTo split a dragon’s ear among his foes.

Wherever Rostam drove his steed around,He swept the warriors from the battleground.

He craved the fight with Chin, his brow a frown,The rawhide on his arm to drag men down.

Whenever Rostam in that raging fightUnhorsed a chieftain with his kamand’s bite,

Tus made the karnays and the koust ring high,Until their thunder climbed the shaken sky.

Iranian hands bound every captive tightAnd led him from the plain toward the height.

Then from his elephant the Khan looked down,And saw earth like the Nile in flood around.

Rostam, an elephant upon a hill,Held heroes in his kamand, bound and still.

From black clouds he brought vultures to the fray,While stars and moon looked on that grim display.

Then from his army Chin’s great Khan now choseA chief who knew the language of his foes.

He said, “Approach that lion-man and say:‘Restrain your wrath; fight less fiercely today.

From Chin and Shakn, Chaghan and Wahr they came;They bear no hatred and pursue no claim.

The kings of Chin and Khatlan stand apart;Against these strangers, no feud fills your heart.

It lies with Afrasiab, of judgment dire;He cannot tell mere water from a fire.

He roused the world and drew upon his headThe evil harvest of the war he spread.

We all seek honor and a lasting name,Yet peace is better than the sword’s red flame.’”

With fluent tongue and guileful heart he came,To Rostam, warrior of boundless fame.

He said, “O chief, now let the fighting cease;Turn from the field to feasting and to peace.

You bear Chin’s Khan no grudge, no ancient feud;No former wrong should see your wrath renewed.

Withdraw as he withdraws; the war is spent;And let your army’s fighting now relent.

For by your hand the great Kamus was slain;The chiefs no longer seek the battle plain.”

Then Rostam answered, “Bring the ivory throne,The elephants and crown, to be my own.

He set his face toward Iran for spoil;Why flatter now, when all his schemes recoil?

He knows his band lies helpless in my hand,While I restrain my own at my command.

I spare his head, but crown and throne are mine,The elephant, the torque, the royal sign.”

The envoy said, “Do not divide the preyBefore the running gazelle comes your way.

The plain is full of elephants and men;Who has crown, wealth, and grandeur like him then?

Who knows the outcome of this bitter day,Or who leaves victor from the bloody fray?”

When Rostam heard, he spurred on Rakhsh and cried,“I conquer lions; crowns I now divide.

I stand, strong-bodied, kamand on my arm;What use are counsels now, or guileful charm?

Chin’s Khan is to my kamand what, in fight,A lion is to my hand’s binding might.”

He flung the coiled kamand; its rawhide passedAround the envoy’s waist and held him fast.

He neared the white elephant in the fray;The Khan’s last hope of life then slipped away.

Then Rostam, son of Zal, drew back his handAnd cast upon the Khan his raw kamand.

The rawhide left his hand and circled roundThe Khan’s proud head, within its coils now bound.

He hauled him down and dashed him to the ground;The Khan of Chin’s two arms were tightly wound.

To River Shahd he drove him, stripped of pride,On foot; no crown, throne, mahd, or beast to ride.

The guards of Tus received him; koust rang high;Their thunder rose toward the wheeling sky.

This fickle world forever turns its way,Now lifts us high, now casts our hopes away.

So long as heaven wheels above our sight,Now vengeance, poison; now love’s sweet delight.

You lift one from the dust to heaven’s light,And cast a king down, wretched in his plight.

Not love for one nor hatred for the rest;Creator of the world, You know it best.

You are its height and depth; I cannot knowWhat You are; all is You, both high and low.

From You come joy and grief; one has excess,Another lives in want and has far less.

You raise one to a throne; one You consignTo fishes in the depths of ocean’s brine.

You gave to one; now give the other, then;Set no hatred between two noble men.

Then peerless Rostam raised his gorz to strike,And spared not one; he struck them all alike.

The field was packed so close that ant and gnatCould scarcely stir across the crowded flat.

Blood streamed from wounded men and from the slain,One headless, one flung headlong on the plain.

When fortune failed the foe near fall of night,Their once-bright star grew dark and lost its light.

A black wind rose; a cloud spread through the sky,And hid the sun and moon from every eye.

The foe knew neither head nor foot; they fledThrough desert lands, a long road stretched ahead.

Piran beheld the fight; the circling glowOf sun and moon grew dark above the foe:

Manshur, Fartus, Chin’s Khan, that mighty band,Those veteran chiefs who held the high command.

He saw their fallen standards on the plain,The wounded in the dust, brought low by pain.

To Nastihan and Kulbad came his cry:“Put every zhupin, every khanjar by.”

The army’s standard fell to earth; they fled,And left the field, a trembling troop, in dread.

Giv ravaged all the right wing in that rout;Like francolin’s plumes, vale and plain spread out.

Giv searched the army’s left and right to knowWhere he might find Piran amid the foe.

They did not find him; back the warriors spedTo mighty Rostam, with his high-held head.

The war-steeds faltered, spent from battle’s strain;All worn and wounded, sore with toil and pain.

The troops moved mountainward, their hearts restored;Great Rostam led them, honored as their lord.

Their helms and jowshan were drenched in dust and gore;The horses’ armor gaped where battle tore.

Their bodies ached, their hearts with triumph burned;Such is the way the wheel of fortune turned.

So masked with blood and dust, no friend knew friend,Till washing brought confusion to an end.

Breasts, feet, swords, stirrups, all were stained with gore;The slain concealed both hill and valley floor.

They washed their heads and bodies of the stains;Their hearts were cleansed, their foes in heavy chains.

“Disarm,” said Rostam to the Iranian band;“Unbelt yourselves; lay weapons from your hand.

Before the Conqueror, no gopal we wield;We need no arrows there, nor any shield.

Bow all your heads to dust upon the ground;Then rise, and let each noble head be crowned.

No chieftain from our ranks has died today,For whom our hearts should mourn in dark array.

When tidings reached the Shah, he told me then,In public and in private, of our men:

‘Tus sought the mountain with his weary band,Defeated by Piran and Houman’s hand.’

The Shah’s words shook my mind; my senses fled,And battle’s fury seethed within my head.

For brave Gudarz, Bahram, and Rivniz too,My heart took on dark shiz-wood’s sable hue.

I sped from Iran, casting off delay,Intent on battle and the warlike way.

But when I saw the Khan and men of name,The warriors and the chiefs of lofty fame,

Especially Kamus, his grace and height,His shoulders, limbs, great hands, and gorz of might,

Then I thought: surely now my time is done;My day has reached its darkened setting sun.

Since first I girded on my battle gear,I have seen no more troops or arms than here.

I reached Mazandaran, the Divs’ domain,Where nights were black and massive gorz held reign.

Yet never did my heart in courage fail,Nor did I think that death would soon prevail.

But in this war my days were plunged in gloom;My world-bright heart was darkened toward its doom.

If now we roll in sorrow in the dustBefore all-holy God, the act is just.

He gave us strength, high fortune, battle won,Our favored lot from Saturn and the sun.

May fortune never turn against our might;May fear not darken any heart with night.

Now send the tidings swiftly to the throne;Let Kay Khosrow rejoice among his own.

Let him adorn his court; upon his browLet him set fast the royal circlet now.

Let gifts enrich the poor from his great store;May blessings on his soul rise evermore.

Now put your battle dress aside, and wearThe garb of ease; let rest replace your care.

For grief and longing surely pass away,And fate counts every breath from day to day.

Yet it is good to count the cups of wine,And shun the loveless heavens’ cold design.

So drink till midnight; speak of God again,And of the mighty deeds of mighty men.

The Conqueror gives manhood, fortune, might;Give thanks to Him for prowess in the fight.

We should not give our hearts too much to grief,Nor toil within this fleeting world so brief.”

The nobles blessed him: “May the crown we bearAnd signet never lack your strength and care.

Who has great Rostam serving in his trainHolds his head higher than the stars’ domain.

You know what love for us has made you do;May heaven now rejoice because of you.

We were as good as slain; our days were done,But now through you we live beneath the sun.

All honor to the stock, the native worth,And mother who gave such a hero birth.”

Then he commanded elephants be brought,With ivory throne, crown, torques in fine gold wrought.

He brought forth royal wine and goblets bright,And drank first to Kay Khosrow’s crown and might.

From elephant-back came the karnay’s call;For several mil its sound spread over all.

When wine had made his heart and spirit gay,The nobles parted joyful on their way.

When the moon tore the robe of night apart,And set her turquoise throne in heaven’s heart,

The scouts dispersed around the plain that night;The darkness lingered, then gave way to light.

When night’s rust passed and day’s bright falchion gleamed,The earth like ruby in the daylight beamed.

The parda-saray’s tabira rang high;The chiefs rose up; then came great Rostam’s cry:

“No trace of wise Piran has met our eyes;Return now to the field beneath the skies.

Send out the troops to seek him everywhere;Search all the field; lay every hiding bare.”

Bijan the lion-man went on his way,To where the armies fought the former day.

He saw a world of corpses, wealth displayed,And seats on every side, still richly laid.

The land was strewn with wounded men around,Flung down upon the earth, in fetters bound.

No living foe stood free upon the ground;The tents and parda-saray could be found.

Then bitter news reached Rostam from the plain:“The land is empty of the Turkish train.”

Like raging lion, Rostam’s anger stirredAt Iran’s sleep and slackness, as he heard.

He cursed their slackness and reviled them all:“Has no man wisdom when such chances call?

When two great mountains hemmed our foemen in,How could they flee from us through dust and din?

Did I not say, ‘Send scouts before the force,And guard each gorge and valley on our course?’

You thought of ease and rest; your foes planned flight,And made their preparations through the night.

Slack bodies reap but misery and pain,While toil brings treasure, hardship turns to gain.

When you would say, ‘We rest from toil and strain,’Fear for Iran will burn within each vein.”

Then leopard-like he raged at Tus and said:“Is this a field of war or cushioned bed?

Look to Piran and Houman in the fight,To Kulbad, Ruyin, Pulad and their might.

From now on, with your own men take your stand;You in one realm, I in another land.

If you have strength, then fight with your own men;How will you bring me to your aid again?

I gained the victory; its fruit is lost,By slackness scattered at Iran’s own cost.

See now from what troops all the scouts were drawn,And who commanded them before the dawn.

When that same sentry of the watch is found,Beat feet and hands with sticks upon the ground.

Strip all he has, then bind him foot to foot;And on an elephant let him be put.

Send him before the Shah; there let him learnObedience, and from his errors turn.

The ivory thrones, the jewels, dinars of gold,Diba, crowns, coronets, the spoils we hold;

Ask who among our troops holds spoils today;Bring all their captured wealth without delay.

For many kings had gathered on this plain,Most famed in all the world for might and reign.

From Chin, from Saklab, Hind and Wahr they came,Rich conquerors of cities, high in fame.

First choose a worthy present for the throne,Then share my portion fairly with your own.”

Tus and his warriors gathered from the groundThe scattered wealth the battle left around.

Gold girdles, turquoise crowns, and bracelets’ sheenWith diba by the ivory throne were seen.

Bargostvans, arrows, bows, and gopal layWith Indian blades, the spoils of that fierce day.

Between two mountains rose a third, so high;The troops stood round and gazed with wondering eye.

Had any archer, broad of chest and frame,A valiant rider of illustrious fame,

Shot a four-feathered arrow through that store,Its flight would fail to reach the farther shore.

When Rostam saw the spoils, amazed he stood,And called upon the Maker, wise and good:

“Our life is fleeting, ever taking flight;It brings us now a feast, and now a fight.

It gives with curses now, then blessings bright;Wealth passes hand to hand, and none holds tight.

One gathers treasure, tending it with toil;Another comes to savor all the spoil.

Kamus had wished, and Chin’s great Khan the same,To set the land of Iran all aflame.

With elephants and wealth in proud array,With troops and treasure ready for the fray,

Their wealth and swarming armies made them glad;No thought of God in all that time they had.

He made the heavens, earth, and time’s long tide,All things revealed, and all that shadows hide.

Know all from God; give thanks for all His aid;In Him the good man’s faithful trust is laid.

From Him we had our strength, our glory bright;From Him all benefit and all things right.

An army stood, their wealth arrayed in gold;Yet all their counsels strayed from paths of old.

Now from each country’s chiefs I choose the best,A leader from each land, above the rest.

On elephants I send them to his care,With golden thrones and golden crowns to bear.

On rutting hiyuns goods shall fill the road,The choicest gifts from all this captured load.

Then I myself will spur to Gang my steed;Delay ill suits a man of noble deed.

To let the guilty, men of blood, remainWithin the land is weakness, clear and plain.

First with my blade I will cleanse the world of wrong;No wicked man shall stand secure for long.

I will bring idolaters’ heads to dust,And show all men God’s way, the true and just.”

Gudarz replied, “O chief of judgment true,While place endures, may life endure for you.

Be glad and generous; in this great fray,You dealt out justice as was right today.”

Then matchless Rostam chose a herald tried,Whom Kay Khosrow knew well, close at his side.

He chose out Fariborz, Kavus’s son,Whose nearness to the Shah made him the one.

He said, “Famed chief, born of a royal line,A prince yourself, whose kingly virtues shine,

Accomplished, wise, of noble birth, you bearA joy your followers are glad to share.

Take up this task; go bear to our young kingMy letter, with the tidings it will bring.

Take all the hiyuns, all the wealth we gained,And with you lead the captives we have chained.

Take coronets and bracelets; let the trainBear gorz, crowns and the trophies of this plain.

Take with you, too, the elephants we own,And carry to the Shah each ivory throne.”

Fariborz said, “I stand prepared to ride;Fierce lion, for the road my belt is tied.”

Then Rostam called a practiced scribe to write,And spoke the words the letter would recite.

On parniyan, with ambergris, they pennedThe royal words their chief wished now to send.

He first praised God, whose being knows no end,Whom passing years can neither change nor bend.

He fashioned sun and moon and Saturn’s light,The source of farr and crown and kingly might.

He fashioned heaven, earth, and time’s whole span;Created soul and wisdom, faith in man.

May God preserve the Shah in life and fame,May time not hold him merely as a name.

“I came between two mountains as you bade;The troops of three great realms were there arrayed.

More than a hundred thousand faced our band,Each armed for battle, scimitar in hand.

From Kashan, Shakn, from Chin and Hind they came,From Chin to Indus stretched their ranks of fame.

From Kashmir to Mount Shahd’s foot, our own eyesSaw tents and elephants and mahds arise.

I did not fear the troops of great renown;Beneath the Shah’s fortune, I struck them down.

For forty days we fought, blow after blow;The world seemed all too narrow for the foe.

They all were kings; their crowns and thrones shone bright,With diadems, the emblems of their might.

Between those mountains, over pass and plain,Blood and the slain choke every road and lane.

For forty farsangs, in truth, the soil is clayKneaded with blood from all that long affray.

To tell the whole would make this letter long,So much has followed from your fortune strong.

The kings in bonds I took with my own hand,From elephant-back, by my coiled kamand.

I send them to the Shah with spoils of war,With kingly jewels, treasures by the score;

Toward Gang I turn and set my chosen course;Perhaps Gurvi will face my heavy gorz.

May heaven’s turning sphere become your ground,And all the world with praise of you resound.”

He sealed the letter, gave it with all speedTo Fariborz, a prince of royal seed.

With captive kings and elephants arrayed,On three thousand hiyuns all the spoil was laid.

So Fariborz, the son of Kavus, rodeRejoicing swiftly on the homeward road.

The elephantine hero and his bandOf chiefs rode with him onward through the land.

He clasped the prince, then left the royal train,While from the prince’s eyes tears fell like rain.

Then Rostam, as night’s two curled locks grew black,Departed for his lines along the track.

They sat with harp and wine and minstrelsy,The fortunate chiefs gathered in revelry.

Till all departed, full of joy and rest,Each to his place, with pleasure in his breast.

The sun, gold as a dinar, rose in might,And rent the lapis curtain with its light.

The karnay blared; the camp rang with its roar;It sounded from the parda-saray’s door.

Matchless Rostam drew his riding girdle tight,And mounted Rakhsh, prepared to lead the fight.

He bade the soldiers load both stores and grain;Their road lay hard across the desert plain.

They took the desert road, a lengthy way,The army marching, ready for the fray.

Then Rostam spoke: “You mighty chiefs, give heed;Tus, Gudarz, Giv, famed men of word and deed.

This time I close my grip upon the foe,And bring our ill-wishers to bitter woe.

Who knew that cunning man from Sind would standWith Chin, Saklab, and Hind at his command?

I will stun his mind, and nothing then shall saveHis body, made the soil of Siavash’s grave.

Then Hind, Shingan, Saklab, and Chin shall raiseNo praise for him throughout the coming days.”

He beat the koust; dust rose, a rolling cloud,And earth was thronged with warriors, crowd on crowd.

The warlike chiefs’ loud voices rose on high,And reached the clouds across the dusty sky.

Two stages from that battlefield they passed,Where corpses blackened all the country vast.

They reached a wood and halted by the stream;Their mass hid land and water’s flowing gleam.

They stayed within that woodland for a while;The weary army rested, rank and file.

With song and wine they passed the hours away;Some laughed with joy, while others drunken lay.

Then envoys came from every district round,From chiefs and men of fame in lands around.

With gifts and gear, the envoys all drew near,And scattered rich offerings before the peer.

The heavens turned; some days had swiftly flown,Their wheeling course no pause or rest had known.

Then word was brought before the Shah to say:“Kavus’s son, Fariborz, comes this way.”

The Shah and chiefs went out with martial sound,The army’s mighty warriors thronged the ground.

When Fariborz beheld the monarch’s face,He kissed the dust before that royal place.

He praised the Shah, a king of mighty name,And offered many blessings on his fame.

The Shah saw captives, hiyuns in their train,The elephants, and men who bore war’s pain.

He rode apart, removed his royal crown,Then left his steed and cast his body down.

He rolled in dust before Yazdan and cried,“O holy Ruler, source of strength and guide,

The tyrant worked oppression on my head,And left me fatherless in grief and dread.

Yet You released me from my grief and pain,And gave me crown and realm and royal reign.

Both earth and time bowed down beneath my throne,The world grew filled with treasure of my own.

I thank You, not the men who won the strife;Grant only this: preserve brave Rostam’s life.”

He turned his horse and rode back down the way,Past elephants and captives in array.

He blessed the Pahlevan with all his heart:“May joy and brightness never from him part.”

He sought the palace, wrote his answer’s lines,And planted one more tree where greatness shines.

He first praised God, who shapes our changing state,From whom come good and ill in mortal fate;

Yazdan of Saturn and the sky above,From whom come war and treaties, bonds of love.

He raised the heavens, set them in their place,And gave both night and day the world to grace.

He made one soul with fortune dark as night,Another worthy of the throne by right.

From Him come grief and joy, through all our days;To Him we owe our thanks and grateful praise.

“All that you wrote has reached the royal hall:The crowns, the captives, elephants, and all;

Chin’s rich diba, bright ivory thrones in train,Arabian steeds, and torques of golden chain;

The many hiyuns, clothing for our wear,And carpets, coverlets, and fabrics rare;

All serve for feasts and revelry’s delight;What man would choose to meet you in the fight,

Unless his end approached with every breath,And, weary of his life, he courted death?

Of all your toil against those countless foes,Wherever dust of battle thickly rose,

I feared for you by day and through the night;To strangers I said nothing of the fight.

In ceaseless prayer I bowed my head for you,Before Yazdan, O chief of counsel true.

Who has great Rostam standing at his sideMay keep his youth while kingdoms turn and slide.

Beneath the sky no servant is your peer;May fortune keep its love for you sincere.”

The scribe had finished; then the Shah impressedHis signet on the praise the page expressed.

A robe of honor, at his word, they brought,With belts and trappings for the horse, well wrought.

A hundred slaves with curls and girdles gold,A hundred steeds, gold-saddled, of rare mold;

Chin’s diba, on a hundred camels laid,A hundred more with tapestries arrayed;

Two ruby rings, whose stones shone clear and bright,A crown of gold and pearls that caught the light;

An armlet, torque, and belt of beaten gold,With gold-worked royal robes in many a fold;

They readied gifts for every chief; they spentA treasury on presents to be sent.

For Fariborz, gold sword and flag were laid,A gorz, gold crown, and golden boots well made.

He sent him back from Iran on his way,To seek the chief, and charged him thus to say:

“In war against Afrasiab, we must keepFrom rest and food, and give no time to sleep.

Perhaps that lofty royal head, so proud,May in your twisted kamand’s loop be bowed.”

Then Fariborz resumed the road ahead,Just as the Shah of Iran wished and said.

Then tidings reached Afrasiab’s great court:“Fire rose from water; such is our report.

With Kamus, Manshur, and Chin’s Khan laid low,Turan has suffered this disastrous blow.

A nahang then came forth from Iran’s side,The sky itself seemed narrowed by its stride.

For forty days the armies joined in fight;The world wore one dark color, day and night.

The horsemen’s dust concealed the sun from sight;Our wakeful fortune dimmed and lost its light.

Of all our countless ranks upon that plain,No horseman fit for service could remain.

Our mighty chiefs and champions of the fieldWere bound in chains and forced at last to yield.

Disgraced, on elephants they rode in shame,While troops for several mil together came.

The Khan of Chin, with thousands in his band,Was carried captive toward Iran’s great land.

No space remained across the field to tread,So thick the earth was covered with the dead.

Piran has taken Khutan’s road ahead,With noble chiefs and warriors whom he led.

No man of Chin or Kashan now remainsIn camps or towns or on the border plains.

For three mil, blood and brains have drenched the ground;No elephants or mighty chiefs are found.

With Rostam at its head, Iran’s arrayDraws close, intent on vengeance in the fray.

If they should meet us, mountains will be plain,And plains rise up as mountains in their train.”

The king heard all; his heart was filled with pain,And smoke rose thick within his troubled brain.

He called the priests and nobles to debate,And spoke at length about their army’s fate:

“A warlike force from Iran sought the fray,And faced our famed sepahbods in array.

Our countless army, armed with gorz and spear,Has fallen in the fight and cost us dear.

It seems I am bound to earth by bitter grief,For Chin’s great Khan and for Kamus the chief.

Now troops are slain or maimed in every place,Two-thirds of our great chiefs are bound in disgrace.

What shall we do? What remedy appears?We must not take this lightly, chiefs and peers.

If Rostam leads, then neither thorn nor weedWill stand across these fields before his speed.

If this is Rostam whom I faced that day,How hard I struggled with him in the fray!

I brought my army once to Rey, and thereHe was a reed-like child, so slight and spare.

He seized me from my saddle by his might;Both armies stood astonished at the sight.

My belt and coat-clasp broke beneath the strain;Headlong beneath his feet I struck the plain.

What he has done in Mazandaran’s land,What fell upon its chiefs beneath his hand!

And how he shattered chiefs on Turan’s field,Till all our vaunted glory had to yield.”

The nobles rose and said, “Though Chin’s vast hordeAnd Saklab’s troops against Iran have poured,

Why call us to your aid? Your treasure storeYou scattered recklessly; what was it for?

Our troops are whole; none fell upon the plain,Nor is our country marked by blood’s red stain.

Why fear this Rostam? Why should dread in youFulfill the hopes of all that hostile crew?

We all were born for death; our belts stay tight,Unloosened since we girded them to fight.

If they should trample on our native clay,For what they do, they shall be made to pay.

When we take arms for vengeance in the fray,No man from Iran shall survive that day.”

He heard their answer; from the ranks he choseMen bold of tongue to stand against his foes.

He summoned chiefs and warriors to the test,And put away all sleep and food and rest.

He opened treasuries, gave dinars of gold,And fed his soul with heart’s blood; grief took hold.

The earth grew thronged with warriors, fierce and bright;It seemed that heaven had come down to fight.

The coil of evil now stood clear and plain,As glad Fariborz reached the hero’s train.

The monarch’s robe of honor then he brought,The crown and earrings, delicately wrought.

Then Rostam, elephantine chief, was glad,And joy restored the mighty heart he had.

The army’s great men gathered near and cried:“May earth through Rostam prosper far and wide.

May Shah and Iran flourish through his might,In field and mountain, fortress, plain, and height.”

They raised the monarch’s robe above each head,And offered blessings on his name, and said:

“We are the Shah’s own servants, one and all,To heed his counsel and obey his call.”

Then Rostam led the army on its wayTo Sughd, and there they made a fortnight’s stay.

He hunted Gur-e-Khar and drank awayThe hours, and passed his time so, day by day.

One stage brought them to Bidad’s fort, whose wallsHeld multitudes that crowded all its halls.

Its people ate no food but human flesh;The lovely perished, feeding them afresh.

The flesh of children not yet grown was spreadBefore the vile king when his board was fed.

Fair slaves were chosen, free of any traceOf blemish on the body or the face.

Such lovely bodies furnished all his fare;They made his food from those whose looks were fair.

Then peerless Rostam from the army choseThree thousand mail-clad riders for those foes.

With Gostaham, two seasoned chiefs he led;On steeds in bargostvan, at foes they sped.

Bijan and brave Hajir rode at his side,Both skilled in combat, bold and battle-tried.

Within that fortress lived a man of might,The people’s chief, a master of the fight.

The king was named Kafur; within that townHis royal grant upheld his rule and crown.

When word arrived that from Iran there cameA vengeful chief who bore a mighty name,

He donned his khaftan; all his leopard raceRode from the city, armed to give them chase.

Their kamands flew with skill at each command;Like anvils made of stone, they took their stand.

Kafur met Gostaham; the armies closed,And rank on rank in battle stood opposed.

Like a bold lion charging on its prey,A deer, they joined in battle on that day.

Many Iranians fell beneath the blow;The keenest fighters turned before the foe.

Then Gostaham beheld that army stand,And saw the world within the crooked Div’s hand.

He bade the archers loose a darkening rain,And set his mounted ambush on the plain.

Kafur said, “Chiefs, no pikan driven hardCan leave this iron marked or even scarred.

Use sword and gorz and kamand in the fight,And bind those leaders’ heads before our sight.”

They fought until the stream flashed red with fire,And battle raged with ever-mounting ire.

Then many of Iran’s brave fighters died;The heavens poured misfortune far and wide.

To Bijan Gostaham in haste appealed:“Give rein and ride to Rostam from the field.

Tell him: ‘Do not delay, O matchless one;Bring two hundred riders before all is done.’”

Bijan, the son of Giv, flew like a gale,And told the matchless chief the battle’s tale.

Rostam bore down upon his stirrups then;No high or low was marked by all his men.

He reached the field as if a windstorm roaredDown from black hills where storm and darkness poured.

He cried to Kafur, “Dog devoid of worth,I end your war and trouble on this earth.”

Kafur came rushing, fierce in his pursuit,Against the royal tree that bore such fruit.

He hurled his sword as if he loosed a dart,At Rostam, who made lions quail at heart.

But Rostam caught it cleanly on his shield;Kafur stood balked upon the battlefield.

Kafur next flung his kamand, casting loose;Then Rostam mocked the throw as of no use.

Then Rostam’s gorz descended like a stone,And crushed through helm and head and neck and bone.

His brains streamed from his nostrils in a flood;Kafur fell dead and darkened earth with blood.

Then Rostam charged the gate through that array;No great or small could be discerned that day.

The men within the fortress sealed the gate,And arrows poured like storms of iron fate.

They called, “O man of strength and sharpened sense,O elephant in leopard-hide defense!

What name did your own father give at birth:Kamand-flinger; or Heaven of War on earth?

Alas for all your toil against our town,Known as the Battle-Hold, of wide renown.

When Tur, Fereydoon’s son, left Iran’s land,He called on builders skilled in what they planned.

With stone and brick he raised this strong retreat,With timber, reeds, and toil made it complete.

By toil and magic, sweating, Tur suppliedHis treasury’s wealth to raise each mighty side.

Great warriors strove to send its dust on high,And brought their strength to bear beneath the sky.

Yet none could make these mighty walls their own;No prize repaid their toil against the stone.

Here arms and food are stored in rich supply,With underground roads bringing stores nearby.

Though you should toil for years, your prize is strife;These walls will waste the labor of your life.

Tur’s spells, the Catholicos’s breath defyYour catapults, however hard you try.”

When Rostam heard, he stood perplexed, amazed;The warriors’ hearts grew dark, their spirits dazed.

A siege did not accord with Rostam’s will;On four sides troops approached the fortress hill.

First Zabul’s army came in armor bright,With Kabul blades made ready for the fight.

Gudarz and Tus each held a side; the rearHeld Giv with elephants; the koust rang clear.

The veteran Rostam bent his bow with might;The fortress stared in awe at such a sight.

He picked off every head that dared ariseAbove the wall before his watchful eyes.

His pikan spoke in whispers to the brain;An ill-matched pair were joined in mortal pain.

To drive the garrison from tower and stone,He mined beneath the walls they called their own.

The posts that held the ramparts overheadWith black naphtha were coated as they spread.

When half the fortress wall was undermined,He fired the wood beneath the stone confined.

Tur’s ramparts fell amid the fiery glow;From every side the troops rushed at the foe.

Then Rostam bade them bring their bows to bear,And rain their poplar arrows through the air.

The brave defenders threw their lives away,To save their gold, their homes, their kin that day.

Their children, kin, and country faced the knife;Far better had they never come to life.

Iranian ranks advanced on foot below,Each warrior with his shield and shafts and bow.

With Gostaham and Bijan at their head,The spearmen charged together where they led.

The fire’s rage and arrows’ deadly showerLeft flight the only hope in that dark hour.

Those who escaped the castle walls in painFled weeping from the ruin through the plain.

The victors closed the gate upon the keep;They slaughtered, and they plundered heap on heap.

What multitudes they slew! How many oldAnd young were carried captive, we are told.

Much silver, gold, and precious goods were gained,With beasts, and men and women slaves detained.

The matchless Rostam bathed and prayed; and whenHe rose, he spoke to all Iran’s great men:

“With God, the hidden shines more clear and brightThan all that lies revealed before our sight.

Praise Him who granted us this victory;Give thanks for all His blessings, full and free.”

The great men all together bowed each faceUpon the earth, and thanked God for His grace.

When they had finished praising God, they turnedTo praise the chief whose deeds such honor earned:

“The man who cannot match you in the fightShould sit apart from name and shame outright.

With elephantine frame and lion’s claws,You hunger still for war without a pause.”

Then peerless Rostam said, “This farr and mightAre robes of honor from Yazdan of Right.

You also hold your shares by His command;No man can fault the Maker’s giving hand.”

He ordered Giv, two thousand at his side,Shield-bearers, steeds in bargostvan, to ride.

“Make haste to Khutan’s border with your force,And halt the massed Turanians on their course.”

When night unbound its dark and curling hair,The crescent moon bent double under care,

Giv rode with all those warriors and stayedThree days afield where his harsh raids were made.

When sunlight raised its crown on high and shone,It took its seat upon the ivory throne.

From Turan came Giv with his captured train,The caps of many nobles were his gain.

Fair-cheeked idols from Taraz in array,With horses, arms, and treasure borne away.

Then Rostam sent the Shah one half the spoil,And gave the rest to all who shared the toil.

Gudarz, Tus, Giv, and Gostaham drew near,With Shidush and Rohham, to bless their peer.

Then Bijan joined the chiefs with praises raised;Together all the noble hero praised.

Gudarz replied, “Exalted chief, your careAnd love are needed by the world we share.

In every hour our lips shall speak your praise,And never cease to bless you through our days.

Be old in wisdom, young in fortune still;Live glad, with shining heart and cheerful will.

God gave you purity of stock and name;No stainless mother bore your peer in fame.

May sire succeed to sire and son to son,And may your noble line be never done.

You lack for nothing; fortune guards your state,The head of chiefs, in rank and glory great.

God gave you manhood, setting you apart,And stripped that name from every other heart.

May God, the Master of the world, defend;May earth and time themselves remain your friend.

May your great name endure from age to age;May fortune prosper through your earthly stage.

Whoever roamed across the world’s wide ground,Through peace and battle, vengeance all around,

Has never seen an army of this might,Nor heard old sages tell of such a sight:

Such kings and elephants, ivory thrones,Such steeds and men, rich treasure, crowns, and stones;

The stars looked down upon that field of fight,Where all our army stood in helpless plight.

We circled round the fortress in our woe,And sought a cure but found no path to go.

Caught in the Dragon’s breath, we cried aloud,Until your kamand freed us from that cloud.

O Crown of Iran, lofty, brave, and true,The chiefs’ support; we all stand less than you.

We are your warriors. May God repayYour deeds and keep your face in joy each day.

No recompense can match what you have done;We have no gift but praise, O mighty one.

May greatness grow in you from year to year;Your skillful claw is a whole army’s peer.”

Then Rostam, glad and eased of anxious strain,Addressed the noble chiefs of his campaign:

“Iran’s great nobles are my strength and stay;With bright heart and true tongue I speak today.

For three more days we linger, feast, and smile,And fill the world with joy a little while.

Against Afrasiab, upon day four,We march, and fire from water’s depths shall pour.”

The chiefs turned from his words to food and wine,And gathered at the feast, content to dine.

To Afrasiab came tidings fraught with fear:“Rostam has ravaged all the country here.”

The monarch’s heart grew sore at that refrain;His silken raiment turned to thorns of pain.

“Who dares ride out and Rostam’s might withstand?We have the troops, but who will take command?

Who dares confront that warrior on his track,Whose hoof-struck fire has turned the country black?”

The warriors cried, “Do not draw back in dread;Turn not from battle; face that man instead.

Within the dust of battle you can raiseBlood’s wave toward the moon through battle-haze.

We have no lack of treasure, arms, or men;Why should the quest of battle grieve you then?

Do not be troubled; cast your fear aside;Look on our gallant troops on every side.

Grant him an iron frame and matchless might;He still is one man standing in the fight.

Our brief words on this man have grown too long;Devise his end: you have an army strong.

Drag down his head from saddle to the sod;What need we fear thereafter, Shah or God?

No Kay Khosrow shall flourish, nor his throne,Nor Iran’s land, nor branch or tree be grown.

Behold these noble youths in our array,All fit to meet the trials of the fray.

For land and children, wives and kin we stand,Our little ones, our homes, our native land.

We all would give our bodies to be slainBefore we yield the country to their reign.”

When Afrasiab had heard the words they spoke,He quite forgot that ancient battle’s stroke.

For fatherland and for his royal state,He formed a plan to challenge coming fate:

“When pressed by danger, I shall take in handThe arms of war, prepared to make a stand.

I shall not let Kay Khosrow on his throneEnjoy the happy fortune he has known.

With my long-reaching hand I shall bring to dustThe head of Rostam, whom Zabul will trust.

I will not spare my grandson in this strife;My sword shall end this quarrel with his life.”

He gave command to marshal all his force,And march to war along the vengeful course.

The nobles blessed him, urging him to fight,To rise in vengeance with his royal might.

A lion-hearted man named Farghar knewThe cage, and many traps he had slipped through.

The king had watched his prowess in the field,And knew the worth his arms and strength revealed.

He sent the others out and called him near:“O noble man, now learn what I would hear.

Seek Iran’s lines, and measure Rostam’s power;Watch how that warrior longs for battle’s hour.

Observe their horsemen’s numbers and array,And learn who through this country guides their way.

Mark well the famous chiefs amid their band,And learn what purpose calls them to this land.

Count riders helmeted and clad in steel;Learn which famed warriors now their ranks reveal.

Mark elephants and warriors, all you see;Find out what Iran’s battle-plans may be.”

Farghar departed, secret in his aim,To spy on Rostam’s ranks and learn their frame.

Meanwhile the king, ambitious, racked with doubt,Held council close, and shut all strangers out.

He summoned Shideh, born of royal line,And shared with him the secrets, by design:

“O you endowed with wisdom, tell me true,When will your troops take thought and care for you?

Know that the countless army drawing near,With warriors, has come for battle here.

Their lion-hearted leader’s sword sheds bloodTill all the dust beneath him turns to mud.

Kamus and Fartus, Chin’s Khan, Gahar the bold,And praised Manshur, whose name was widely told,

With Kundur, Shangul, king of Hind’s domain,Whose troops from Kashmir stretched to Sind’s terrain,

Were slain or captured by that lion’s might;Some lost their lives, some liberty in fight.

For forty days, with lulls between the strain,They fought, but Rostam triumphed on the plain.

At last his kamand brought Chin’s great Khan downFrom elephant-back, in bonds despite his crown.

The horsemen and the chiefs of every land,The foremost men who held their realms in hand,

With arms, hiyuns, and elephants he sentThe crown and ivory throne, to Khosrow meant.

By that same token now he comes this way,With famous chiefs and pride in war’s array.

I shall not leave my throne or treasure here,While fortune shifts and danger presses near.

The treasure, crowns, and girdles I possess,Gold torques and golden shields in readiness,

To Almas River I shall send the train;This is no hour for wine or song’s refrain.

I dread great Rostam, terrible and strong;Who could survive a nahang’s jaws for long?

He does not writhe when wounded, cry in pain;No human seems he on the battle-plain.

He fears no spear or sword, no gorz’s might,Though clouds rain arrows on him in the fight.

His frame seems stone and iron, jowshan-sealed;No man, but Ahriman, within concealed.

So vast the arms upon his body worn,Earth’s back is weary of the burden borne.

In jowshan, with his helm and tiger hide,He roars like thunder rolling far and wide.

No elephant can bear his charge; no boatUpon the Nile could keep his arms afloat.

The mountain under him flies like a gale;Of water’s race, you would say, that steed must hail.

With speed of deer and strength of lions, heIs bold upon dry land and in the sea.

Ask him for speech, and speech he will provide;Like some great ship across the seas he will glide.

Full often I have faced him, blow for blow;In leopard-hide jowshan he meets the foe.

My weapons never found an entrance through,Though gorz and axe I tried, and struck him true.

But now I shall renew the war to proveWhat fortune holds, and which way it will move.

If God should help us and the heavens turnTo grant the fortune for which all hearts yearn,

Then neither Iran nor its Shah shall stand;Perhaps this war shall finish by my hand.

But if great Rostam’s hand should win the fray,I shall not linger here another day.

Across Chin’s sea I shall pursue my way,And leave this land of Turan to obey.”

Then Shideh answered, “Prudent king, live brightWhile crown and throne endure in royal light.

You have farr, wisdom, bearing, royal birth,And fortune, courage, manhood, strength, and worth.

You need no counselor to make you wise;Yet mark how fortune turns before your eyes.

Piran, Houman, Farshidvard, in retreat,With Kulbad, Nastihan, have known defeat.

Their armor has been shattered in the fight;Their hearts are broken, gripped by grief and fright.

Call them, and win their hearts with love; then goAnd rouse your gathered ranks against the foe.

You are the chosen king, in battle known,Who has seen much and made the world his own.

By life and head of Turan’s king, I swear,By sun and sword, by throne and cap you wear,

The fate of Khan and Kamus fills my breastWith grief, my head with vengeance and unrest.

Our task is now to lead the troops to Gang,Not seek a battle while these dangers hang.

From Chin and from Machin call every band;Then for renewed revenge let armies stand.”

When he had spoken, he withdrew to rest,With haste in mind and vengeance in his breast.

The dark night opened melancholy eyes;With grief the moon bent low across the skies.

The world was sable musk in shade and hue,When back from Iran’s lines Farghar came through.

At night, the hour of quiet and repose,He reached Afrasiab and spoke of foes:

“I left this lofty court and crossed the landTo Rostam, mighty binder of the Div band.

A vast green royal pavilion there I found,A growling, wolf-like rider held that ground.

A black dragon-standard towered around;Its head, one thinks, the moon itself had crowned.

Before his royal tent, more tents were spread;The banners of great chiefs rose overhead.

Within the tent stood elephantine might,With Babr-e Bayan at the waist bound tight.

A piebald steed stood restless at his side;It seemed no place could hold him satisfied.

Its bridle from the saddle’s high peak hung,Its rawhide kamand coiled where straps were strung.

Tus, Gudarz, Giv, and Fariborz stood near,With Gorgin and Farhad in battle-gear.

Guraza scouted with the battle-band,Where Gostaham and Bijan, Giv’s son, stand.”

The king grieved deeply at Farghar’s report;Then came a messenger before the court:

“Piran has come like dust across the plain,With chiefs and troops advancing in his train.”

The king told what Farghar had brought to light,Then asked, “Who now can match Rostam in fight?”

Piran replied, “What choice is ours but claimOur place in war, and seek out name and shame?

For land and children, for our kin, we wieldOur arms; their cause shall draw us to the field.”

Afrasiab, when he had heard him speak,Made haste, resolved a fresh revenge to seek.

He ordered Piran: “Take the troops and goTo meet the vengeful Rostam, our great foe.”

They left the court and marched in full array,And sought the open battle-plain that day.

The shouts rose high; the kousts marked out their way.Their dust made ebony of heaven’s ray.

So vast the force, it seemed the whole broad sphereBeneath the dust of hooves would disappear.

Tabira drummers raised their voices high,As elephants on elephants filed by.

Afrasiab rode forth from palace walls,And hurried toward the field where vengeance calls.

He gave Piran the orders he would need,Then hurried from the plain, from strangers freed.

They cleared the place of strangers, one and all,And set the scribe before him at his call.

He told Shideh, “Do not delay; prepareTwo hundred riders, and the letter bear.”

He called the seasoned scribe: “Let nothing lieConcealed from noble men who stand so high.

Compose a letter now to Puladvand,And loose the bonds of grief with counsel planned.

Begin with praise of God, whose holy mightBestows defeat or victory in fight.

Yazdan of Saturn and the turning sky,Yazdan of Venus and the sun on high.

Then praise the fortunate, the famed, the strong,Great Puladvand, sepahbod of the throng.

Tell what dread wounds the fearless Rostam made,That darkly raging warrior, with his blade;

And from the other chiefs who lead his train,From Tus, Gudarz, and heroes of the plain.

My grandson’s deeds recount, the lord whose swayHolds all Iran, with fortune bright as day.

I cherished him as life, and held him dear,Lest any bitter wind should venture near.

Then write: ‘If heaven grants our cause its stay,Let Puladvand come swiftly on his way.

The Turks, with troops from Chin and Saklab’s side,Have been struck down and scattered far and wide.

Each field and hill has felt Iran’s attack;They leave no border whole along their track.

Their horsemen, lions all, rode through the fray,And made of Turan pitch-black seas that day.

Their army, a moving mountain, comes in might,With Rostam as its champion in the fight.

With old Gudarz and Tus, tabiras loud,They raise the kousts’ deep thunder to the cloud.

When Rostam meets his death beneath your hand,No hostile force shall find a path through our land.

All this land’s suffering comes from him alone;Be our deliverer; make your prowess known.

If by your hand great Rostam should be slain,Then all the world shall bow beneath my reign.

Of all my kingdom’s wealth, I shall retainNo more than half the treasure for my gain.

The throne, the crown, the rest shall all be yours,For battle and its toil now reach your doors.’”

They sealed the letter with the royal seal;The moon through Cancer then began to wheel.

Before his father Shideh girt his waist,His envoy, bearing care, prepared for haste.

He came to Puladvand with anxious speed,Like fire, through fear of harm and urgent need.

In Chin’s high mountains Puladvand held sway;No peer in all that country barred his way.

The king was Puladvand, whose lofty headReached heaven where the turning stars were spread.

Shideh blessed him, gave the scroll to read,And told of Rostam’s every mighty deed:

“From Iran Rostam came to seek the fray,A lion, with his leopards in array.

He raised the smoke of ruin from our ground;May no blessing upon his head be found!

He bound Kamus, the Khan, and proud Manshur,With Fartus, in his bonds held fast and sure.

His arm can strip a lion’s hide away;He never tires of battle or the fray.

To Iran he has borne off Turan’s ground;What name for that vile warrior can be found?

He ties our every task in knots of woe;Our nobles’ pomp and splendor lie brought low.”

The king called kanarangs, Mobadan near,And told them all the matters they should hear.

He read what Afrasiab’s words had shown;Young and imperious, he sought the world’s throne.

He bade them take the kousts with all the train,And pitch his royal pavilion on the plain.

His troops assembled, fierce as Divs; a cryRose from the warriors, mounting to the sky.

His standards flew behind him and ahead;With shield, quiver, and kamand forth he led.

He left the mountains, crossed the flowing tide,And came before the monarch, Turan’s pride.

Tabira sounded at the monarch’s gate;The troops came forth to greet his high estate.

The elder king embraced him, and againRecalled the deeds of earlier days and men.

He spoke of former days and present pain,Then sought a cure for Turan’s loss and strain.

They went toward the palace, talking stillOf plans and ploys and what might serve their will.

Afrasiab spoke of haste and of delay,And weighed the courses that before them lay.

Of Siavash’s blood upon his handHe spoke, and all the strife throughout the land.

He told of Khan, Manshur, and Kamus’s fate,Recalling all that brought them to this state.

Recalling all that passed, he said, “My painComes through one leopard-skinned upon the plain.

My weapons fail against him in the fight,Against his hide, helm, Chinese shield so bright.

You crossed long roads and plains to reach this place;Now shape a cure for war and our disgrace.”

Then Puladvand sank deep in anxious thought,And sought a way to loose the knot war brought.

He answered Afrasiab: “Do not raceTo battle, but approach at measured pace.

If this is Rostam, whose great gorz laid lowMazandaran and seized it long ago,

Who rent the White Div’s flank and tore awayThe vitals of Pulad Ghandi and Bid that day,

I lack the prowess to contend with him,Or strength to frustrate such a fighter grim.

Yet body, soul, and strength are yours to spend;May wisdom guard you always as a friend.

I shall seek a stratagem to win the day,And circle like a leopard round its prey.

Incite your troops against Iran’s array;Great numbers may confuse him in the fray.

Perhaps a stratagem may serve us best;No strength of hand can break his neck and chest.”

Afrasiab rejoiced; bright wine was brought,With harp and rabab, easing all his thought.

When Puladvand was flushed with wine, he cried,And spoke before the king in drunken pride:

“I made Jamshid, Zahhak, and FereydoonFind food and sleep and rest a bitter boon.

The Brahman trembles when he hears my cry,And fears my proud troops marching boldly by.

That proud Zabuli, on the field of fight,I shall cut to pieces with my sword’s keen bite.”

When sun displayed its shining flag on high,Night’s violet silk turned saffron in the sky.

Tabira sounded from the gate of the king,The troops’ cries rose till clouds began to ring.

Strong-limbed Puladvand, his kamand on his arm,Stood at the army’s head amid alarm.

When both great armies stood in ordered line,Black earth and violet air gave war’s dark sign.

Then Rostam donned his Babr-e Bayan, bound tight,And mounted fierce, elephantine Rakhsh for fight.

He raged and struck the right wing of the foe,And laid full many Turkish champions low.

Then Puladvand grew troubled at the view;His saddle’s coiled kamand he loosed and drew.

Like some mad elephant he charged in might,With kamand on his arm and gorz gripped tight.

He seized Tus by the girdle; from his seatHe lifted him and flung him at his feet.

When Giv beheld the field and Tus laid low,Nohzar’s son overturned before the foe,

He urged Shabdiz and gave his spirit’s might,His body and his soul, to join the fight.

Like some fierce lion, jowshan on his back,Giv charged, his gorz uplifted to attack.

Then Puladvand let fly his kamand’s coil;It caught Giv’s head and held, for all his toil.

Rohham and Bijan watched that warrior stand,His strength and towering form, his bearing grand.

They came with kamands, seeking his hands to bind,But Puladvand was wary, fierce of mind.

He spurred his steed and raised his battle-cry,And struck out, keen of hand and quick of eye.

Those two proud champions, noble men of might,Were famed and honored, foremost in the fight.

He hurled them down and trampled where they lay,While horsemen watched across the field that day.

He reached the standard of Kaveh in war,And with his khanjar split it to the core.

The Iranians wailed; no warrior held the field,No champion stood with spear or sword or shield.

When Fariborz, Gudarz, and chiefs drew near,They saw that warrior Div’s great strength with fear.

They said to Rostam, Zal’s avenging son:“See what fierce Puladvand in war has done.

No horseman in our force can keep his seat,No chief remains who has not met defeat.

Puladvand has hurled our chiefs to the ground,With gorz, khanjar, shaft, and kamand swung around.

The field of battle overflows with woe;Now Rostam must come forth and face the foe.”

Then cries of grief rose up from left and right,From both the wings and center of the fight.

Gudarz, the elder, feared that all were slain:Giv, Rohham, Bijan, fallen on the plain.

With his two sons and grandson lost that day,He cried to God, the just Judge, in dismay:

“I had so many sons and grandsons brightThat once my head rose past the sun in height.

Before my eyes, in battle they were slain;My star and days have turned to grief and pain.

My young lie slain, while I grow old and gray;Shame on this cap and belt I wear today!

Alas for all those young men, bravely grown!My smiling fortune now lies overthrown.”

He loosed his belt and took his cap away,And raised his cries and wailed in his dismay.

When Rostam heard, grief shook him utterly;He trembled like a leaf upon a tree.

He drew to Puladvand and saw his height,A mountain looming in the press of fight.

He grieved for those four chiefs brought down so low,Like Gur-e-Khar before a lion’s blow.

He saw his wounded army, sorely tried,With battle pressing from the other side.

He thought, “Our day is dark upon the field;Our nobles’ minds are dazed; our fortunes yield.

The wheel has turned against us in the fight;Our wakeful fortune sleeps, bereft of light.”

He gripped with both his legs and urged his steed,Then challenged Puladvand with wrath and speed.

He cried, “O base and wretched Div, draw near;You shall behold a turn of fortune here.”

His voice reached all the warriors on the plain;He saw the fallen chiefs and spoke in pain:

“O Lord of all the world, beyond our sight,Above the seen and hidden in Your might,

I would far rather lose my eyes in strifeThan look upon this bitter day of life.

Such loud cries from the battle-line ring through,From Piran, Houman, and the fierce Div too.

Giv, Tus, Rohham are on foot in fear,With Bijan, who met lions with a jeer.

The chargers of the great are pierced with darts;Their riders fight afoot with breaking hearts.”

He closed with Puladvand and cast his snare;The rider ducked; it caught the empty air.

Afraid and weary, he escaped the throw,Then raised his voice in taunts against his foe:

“O gallant one, old lion, widely known,Who makes great elephants recoil and groan,

Now you shall see the Nile’s great waters roll;Behold my battle-fire, my heart and soul.

My kamand, courage, boldness, and my mightWill blot your Shah and nobles from your sight.

Your land henceforth shall vanish from your eyes;In dreams alone shall you behold it rise.

I give your broken army on the plainTo mighty Afrasiab and his train.”

Then Rostam said, “How long this fraud and pride?These threats and snares; what more have you to hide?

A warrior’s tongue should curb its boastful breath;For reckless words will surely bring him death.

Though bold and fierce, you are no Sahm; your ireMakes you no iron, nor are you formed of fire.”

Then Puladvand recalled the words of old:A warning that the ancient wise had told:

“Who seeks unjust war comes home pale and sore,His liver wounded by the strife he bore.

Though friend or foe should harm you, still be fair;Let good and bad alike in justice share.”

He thought, “This is that Rostam, fierce in might,Whose heavy gorz won Mazandaran by night.”

Then said, “O man approved in battle’s lore,Why stand we here so long and gain no more?”

Two mighty elephants, two lions strong,They wheeled until the dust rolled thick and long.

Then Rostam swung his gorz with iron force,And struck his foeman’s head from his wheeling horse.

All present heard the crash; it stunned his brain,His eyes grew dazed, his hand let slip the rein.

He swerved toward the right, turned from the fray,And cried aloud, “This is an evil day!”

Rostam had thought that, from so hard a blow,The brains through both ears down his chest would flow.

But since he kept his seat, brave Rostam prayedTo God, whose hand sustains what He has made:

“O You exalted over fortune’s wheel,All-seeing Lord, whose boundless mercies heal,

If I fight unjustly, when I leave this strife,My soul shall find no joy in the next life.

Then let fierce Puladvand release in deathMy soul from bondage; I yield up my breath.

But if Afrasiab has done the wrong,Preserve my life and skill, and keep me strong.

For if today I perish by his might,No champion of Iran remains to fight.

No craftsman, farmer, realm, or field shall stand,Nor dust remain within Iran’s broad land.”

Then Rostam turned to Puladvand, his foe,And cried, “What harm has come from this one blow?

Your hands let fall the black reins in disgrace;Dismount, you Div, and beg for life and grace!”

Then Puladvand replied, “Your gorz’s mightHas done no harm to me in this our fight.”

They closed once more, two warriors filled with rage,Their faces dark with hatred to engage.

Puladvand drew his diamond khanjar blade,And tried each trick and feint his cunning made.

The Babr-e Bayan turned aside each blow;The Div’s own heart with bitter rage did grow.

His weapon failed; he raged against his fate,And cursed the turning heavens in his hate.

Distressed, he scanned the shoulders, neck, and frameOf Rostam, son of Zal, of mighty fame.

He said, “Put off your babr and khaftan here,Your dark helm too; take other battle-gear.

Put other armor on, that both be fair.”But Rostam answered, “No, I will not swear.

Warriors do not trade their arms this way;Each keeps his own; so let it ever stay.”

Once more they clashed, both eager to subdue,Great Puladvand and Rostam, bold and true.

Against his babr, no weapon could prevail;Each stroke against his khaftan’s steel would fail.

Then Puladvand said, “Wrestling proves the strong;Like raging lions, let us grapple long.

Let each one grasp the other’s leather band,And learn which man lies worsted by whose hand.

Then we shall know whom fortune on the fieldSends from the battle beaten, forced to yield.”

Then Rostam said, “Deceitful, craven foe,You cannot bear a warrior’s heavy blow.

Like foxes, you depend on trick and spell;Once in my arms, no charm will serve you well.

What wrestling art can save your neck from harmWhen I have locked it fast in either arm?”

On this they both agreed and gave their word;Their pact was made before the ranks that heard:

No man from either army should draw nearTo help his champion with sword or spear.

They dismounted and stood upon the ground,And paused to breathe while armies watched around.

Those two exalted warriors, bent on fight,Prepared to wrestle there before all sight.

They swore that none from either side would dareTo intervene between the wrestling pair.

Half a farsang lay between each array,While stars looked down upon the fateful fray.

Then Puladvand and matchless Rostam closed,Two grim, strong lions, each to each opposed.

They felt each other out and took firm holdOf leather belts, those warriors fierce and bold.

When Shideh saw that chest and neck, he sighed;A cold breath from his liver rose and died.

He told his father, “See that mighty frame;Rostam the Div-binder; you know his name.

By strength and prowess he will cast to dustOur champion, the mighty chief we trust.

You soon will see our soldiers turn in flight;Do not contend against the sky’s old might.”

His father said, “My heart is filled with dread;Your words have stirred confusion in my head.

Go watch how Puladvand now wrestles, bold,And see how well his grips maintain their hold.

Go counsel him in Turkish; he may throwThe elephantine Rostam down below.

Tell him, ‘Once you have thrown him at your feet,Let your drawn sword make that defeat complete.’”

But Shideh said, “This is not what the kingAgreed before us in the open ring.

If you grow rash and break the oath you swore,No worthy deed will crown you anymore.

Do not turn this clear water black; bewareThe fault-finder, who waits to lay you bare.”

Afrasiab then turned against his son,And cursed him; faith in him he now had none.

He said, “If Puladvand should fall today,No warrior in our ranks will get away.

Your tongue is valiant, but your arm is still;You speak with courage, not with warrior skill.”

He plied his reins and lion-like drew nearThe two great warriors whom the ranks could hear.

He watched their struggle, heard their thunder roar,As those two champions strained and wrestled more.

He said to Puladvand, “Great lion, throwThis man in wrestling; bring your foeman low.

Then split his liver with your khanjar’s bite;We need no boasting, only deeds in fight.”

Giv heard the king urge treachery aloud,And spurred his charger through the watching crowd.

Because the foe had broken faith and word,He came in haste, his heart to battle stirred.

He said, “What order do you give your band?Your loyal warriors wait upon your hand.

See fierce Afrasiab approaching near;He urges treachery where all can hear.

He prompts him now, against the wrestling pact,To use his khanjar in the very act.”

But Rostam said, “In battle I am tried;In wrestling, I let patience be my guide.

What do you fear? Why do your hearts so quake?Why should this one man make your spirits break?

Now I shall bring his head from heaven’s height,And cast fierce Puladvand to dust outright.

But if my hand lacks strength to cast him low,Why should your needless fear distress me so?

If this witless sorcerer breaks his sworn word,And tramples on God’s pact, which you all heard,

Why fear to break the pact he has overthrown?Upon his own head is the dust now thrown.”

Then lion-like, great Rostam seized his foe,That nahang, chest and neck, and laid him low.

He tore Puladvand upward from the ground,Like some great plane-tree wrenched from roots profound.

He raised him on his neck and flung him prone,Then praised Almighty God in solemn tone.

A shout rose from Iran’s triumphant throng;Tabira rolled as drummers marched along.

The karnay, cymbals, Indian daray bellRose to the clouds in one triumphant swell.

They cried, “Now Puladvand lies lifeless! WhereHe fell, he writhes, a snake on earth laid bare!”

Rostam thought, “No bone or joint can remainUnbroken after such a fall and pain.

His bones are broken; look upon his cheek;Its pallor is the shade of fenugreek.”

A while his strength and spirit ebbed away;The world’s champion held him where he lay.

Rostam looked round, alert on every side,At both Iran’s and Turan’s ranks, spread wide.

He swung his leg across brave Rakhsh to ride,And left the Dragon’s body, thrust aside.

But once he reached the lion-hearted band,An arrow-swift glance flashed from Puladvand.

From dust he sprang into his saddle’s place;He seemed to roll the earth up in his race.

He fled with all speed back to his king’s side,With heart oppressed and tears he could not hide.

Rostam saw Puladvand alive, and foundThe troops dispersed across the battleground.

His heart grew tight; he urged his troops ahead,Then called old Gudarz, Keshvad’s son, and said:

“Send down a shower of arrows; let them rainLike clouds of spring across the battle-plain.”

Bijan held one wing, Giv the other flank,While Rohham, Gorgin, filled each ordered rank.

Their blades flashed fire across the battle-haze,And with their khanjars set the world ablaze.

Then Puladvand cried out before his train,“With throne, wealth, fame all lost, what can we gain?

Why should we give our heads to wind in war,Or think of battle as we did before?”

He drove his troops ahead and fled from sight,His life-cord all but snapped by Rostam’s might.

Then Piran said, “Afrasiab, hear me:The world’s broad surface rolls just like the sea.

Did I not say, ‘We cannot linger here,Secure from Rostam, whose fierce hand we fear’?

You spilled that dear youth’s blood, and your fierce dartHas pierced and wounded each devoted heart.

How will you fare? No champions remain,And Puladvand the Div has left the plain.

Iran’s men, more than a hundred thousand strong,On armored chargers press the ranks along.

The lion-hearted Rostam leads their band;The air rains arrows; blood has drowned the land.

From sea and plain, from mountain, field, and height,Our warriors gathered, eager for the fight.

When men had failed, we summoned Divs to aid;Such war and tumult, such a din they made!

But now that Rostam comes, no refuge stands;No course but flight remains within these lands.

Beyond far Chin you must seek out a place,If earth can spare you any room or space.

Leave troops arranged for battle here, and flee;Take your chosen companions toward the sea.”

The king saw battle hopeless; he withdrew,And took the course that Piran pointed to.

They left his flag, but he himself was gone;Toward Chin and far Machin he hastened on.

The armies met each other face to face;The earth became a dark cloud in that place.

Then Rostam cried, his voice above the fray:“Put bow and arrow, all your spears, away.

Fight with the gorz and scimitar instead;Make good the fame your noble deeds have spread.

Does any leopard turn from prey in fearWhen at its resting place the prey is near?”

The soldiers roared, their cries above the fight;They left their spears upon the mountain height.

They choked each field and valley with the slain;No passage could be found across the plain.

Some came to beg for quarter where they stood;Some fled along the roads fast as they could.

No shepherd stood; the scattered flock had fled;The plain lay thick with handless, headless dead.

Then Rostam said, “Enough have now been slain.Time gives its lot to others in its train.

At times it brings us poison in its wake;At times a nush-daru for us to take.

Put off your battle-clothes; let all men striveTo make good deeds increase and goodness thrive.

Why bind your hearts to this brief lodging here,Whose head and foot to sages are not clear?

At times the world shows Ahriman’s dark spite,Then blooms, a bride in color, scent, and light.

Choose harmlessness and quiet; is there oneWho rates a curse above a blessing? None.”

He sent the Shah dinars, new robes in train,With slaves, steeds, war-elephants from the plain.

For his own share he chose the crowns they bore,With musk and ambergris from all that store.

He gave the troops the rest; then sought to traceAfrasiab through roads and each pathless place.

No trace of Afrasiab could be foundOn mountain, plain, in water, on dry ground.

Iran laid waste each palace he had known,And all his banquet-halls were overthrown.

Then Rostam burned his thriving towns; the lightOf that great blaze lit all the world in sight.

From Turan they prepared to bear awayFine arms and treasure, thrones in rich array.

They sought and found much treasure on the way,Then hastened toward Iran without delay.

They found such herds of camels, steeds in train,That none for lack of mounts could now complain.

The karnay roared; the bells rang on the road,And Indian daray sounded as they strode.

They turned their faces toward Iran’s broad lands,A perfumed force beneath bright-colored bands.

When news of Rostam reached the Shah at last,A wave of joy through court and city passed.

Iran’s tabira rang through heaven’s sphere:“The lord of babr and gopal now is here!”

One common gladness spread among them all,Through every rank and station, none too small.

The Shah’s heart bloomed like Paradise above;He praised Almighty God with grateful love.

He bade the elephants be brought, then rode;The world in festive splendor round him glowed.

Wine, harp, and minstrelsy were sought that day,To grace the world in all its rich array.

The tabira and ney rang far and wide,When from his place the Shah set forth to ride.

The elephants’ broad faces shone with wine,With musk and saffron spread along the line.

Their drivers wore bright crowns, a sight divine,And from their ears hung rings of rich design.

They showered wine, saffron, and coins below,And sifted musk and ambergris on the show.

The city rang with minstrels everywhere;Their music rose and filled the festive air.

When matchless Rostam saw the Shah’s bright crown,He heard rejoicing ring through all the town.

He left his steed and bowed beside the throng;The Shah asked of his journey, hard and long.

He clasped him close and held him to his breast;A long while passed before he loosed his guest.

He blessed him many times and bade him ride;Then, hand in hand, they rode out side by side.

He said, “Why stayed you from our sight so long,And burned our hearts with love so deep and strong?”

“Apart from you,” brave Rostam made reply,“Our hearts found no delight beneath the sky.”

Tus, Fariborz, Gudarz, and Giv came through,With Rohham, Shidush, noble Gorgin too.

They rode behind Iran’s great Shah that day,While jewels rained upon them on the way.

At length they reached the palace, vast and bright,Where Kay Khosrow held court in royal might.

There Khosrow sat, and wore the royal crown,With Rostam and the chiefs of high renown.

Fariborz, Gudarz, Rohham, Giv sat near,With other men of name assembled here.

The Shah spoke of the war and battle plain,The Turanian ranks, their field, loss and gain.

Gudarz said, “Long the tale; let wine be poured;Rest first, then ask us of the war, my lord.”

They spread the tables; smiling, Khosrow said,“The march has left you famished, barely fed.”

He set the wine, called minstrels for the feast,Then asked of all that passed, from great to least:

Of Puladvand, Afrasiab’s retreat,The twisted kamand, wrestling, and defeat;

Of Khan, Kamus, and Ashkabus he said,Of elephants, of kousts, and ranks they led.

Gudarz replied, “O Shah, no mother’s wombWill bear a chief like Rostam from its gloom.

Though Div or lion, dragon fierce and bold,None can escape once caught within his hold.

A thousand blessings on the king must fall,And on this famous Pahlevan most of all.”

These words so pleased Khosrow, his joy rose high;Above the palace seemed his head to fly.

He said, “O Pahlevan, mature and wise,Your spirit shines; no sleep can cloud your eyes.

The man whom wisdom teaches on his wayIs guarded by time’s turning, day by day.

Far from this Pahlevan be evil sight;May all his life be feasting and delight.”

A month the Shah held wine and took his ease;Throne, crown, and court rejoiced in days like these.

With ney and strings they sang of Rostam’s might,In heroic songs they told his deeds in fight.

Great Rostam stayed a month with wine in hand,Before the Shah who ruled Iran’s broad land.

At length he said, “O wearer of the crown,Complete in virtue, wise, of high renown,

The monarch’s heart is wise and kindly too,Yet Zal’s dear face I long again to view.”

The mighty Shah unlocked his treasury-door,And brought out precious gifts from hidden store:

Rubies and crowns and rings of royal light,With diba, robes from Shushtar, rich and bright;

Slaves crowned and earringed, a hundred saddled steeds,A hundred burden-camels for his needs;

Gold trays of musk and aloes were displayed,Two golden slippers and a gorz arrayed;

With kingly jewels the golden gorz was graced,As fitting for a man so highly placed.

The Shah sent Rostam gifts, then rode besideThe hero for two stages, stride for stride.

When Rostam saw the monarch’s weary air,He left his steed and bowed with loyal care.

He said farewell and left Iran that day,Then hastened home to Zabul straightaway.

The world obeyed the Shah’s commanding will,And all things moved as he desired them still.

This lengthy tale of great Kamus is done,No jot has fallen from my tale, not one.

Had I left out one word of all I tell,My soul would have a place in grief to dwell.

I am glad: Puladvand adds no steel-bound woe;Now hear how Rostam met Akvan, his foe.