Book B3Kay Qobad

When Kay Qobad ascended to the throne,And claimed the ancient crown and realm his own,

The chiefs drew near: brave Zal and Gharan bold,With Keshvad, Kharrad, Barzin famed of old.

They scattered gems upon the new-made crown,And hailed the Shah whose rule would win renown.

They said: “O king, prepare your men to fight;The troops of Turan thunder into sight.”

He heard their words, then turned his gaze that dayOn Afrasiab and all his vast array.

Next day they marched; from royal tents the cryOf battle rose and thundered to the sky.

Then Rostam armed, his heart aflame for fight,And rose like a raging elephant in might.

Iranian ranks were ordered for the fray,And girded themselves for bloodshed that day.

On one wing stood Mehrab of Kabul’s band,Upon the other Gostaham took his stand.

Gharan held fast the center of the field,With Keshvad near, whose foes were made to yield.

Before them Rostam led the van ahead,Behind him marched the chiefs where banners spread.

Behind them Zal and royal Qobad came,One hand bore wind, the other carried flame.

The Kaveh standard streamed before the fight,And dyed the world red, yellow, violet-bright.

The earth, packed thick with troops, became a ship,As waves from Chin’s great sea around it whip.

The plains were paved with shields in countless rows,And swords like lamps flashed where the battle rose.

The world became a sea of pitch to sight,A hundred thousand candles burned with light.

It seemed the Sun had lost its course on high,Confused by karnay-blast and battle-cry.

The armies clashed until, from far or near,No head nor foot within the ranks showed clear.

When Gharan saw the battle’s surging tide,He roared like thunder, lion-like, and cried.

Now left, now right, through warriors Gharan drove,Like lion through the ranks he fiercely strove.

With gorz and sword and long spear in his hand,He felled renowned chiefs throughout the band.

He heaped the slain like mountains through the fray,Till corpses rose in mounds along his way.

The Turanians quailed before his sweeping blade,Their weary strength gave way, their hearts dismayed.

Shamasas roared like a lion in the fight,And came to meet Gharan with all his might.

Gharan rushed forward, closing on his foe,And drew his sharpened sword to strike the blow.

His blade struck head and helmet; blood was shed,Then cried, “Gharan am I!” as blood ran red.

Thus Shamasas fell dead beneath the sky;Now bow, now arrow turns old heaven on high.

When Rostam saw the deeds that Gharan showed,He turned to Zal, his heart with ardor glowed:

“O chief of chiefs, declare where stands the foe,That I may deal his pride a fatal blow.

I see a violet banner, bright and wide;Is that the sign beneath which he does ride?

Describe his arms and where his standards rise,That I may know him surely with my eyes.

This day I swear his girdle I shall take,And drag him bound before you in my wake.”

Then Zal replied: “Give heed, my son, and hear;Rush not to meet him, do not venture near.

He is a dragon breathing flame and death,A cloud of vengeance borne upon his breath.

His standard black, his jowshan black as night,Iron his helm and armguards, gold-faced bright.

Gold gleams on iron; black his helmet’s sign;His fortune wakes, his courage holds the line.

Take care, my son, and guard yourself with skill;His strength is great, his fortune wakeful still.”

Then Rostam said: “Let care for me depart;No fear of him can turn my steadfast heart.

The World-Creator stands with me in fight;My heart, sword, arm are fortress for my might.”

He urged his bronze-hoofed Rakhsh against them fast;The gavdam horn gave forth its brazen blast.

He thundered through the Turanian ranks with cries,And raised the dust in clouds across the skies.

Afrasiab watched the stripling drawing near,And marveled at his strength without a peer.

He said: “Who rides so fierce, with none to check,A dragon loosed, no rein upon his neck?”

They answered: “He is Zal’s own mighty son,From Sahm’s great line, the first beneath the Sun.

Behold the gorz that mighty Sahm once bore;Though young, he longs to prove himself in war.”

Like ship a rising wave lifts from the spray,Afrasiab rode forth into the fray.

Then Rostam pressed his thighs on Rakhsh with force,And raised the heavy gorz above his horse.

He lowered his gorz against the saddle side,Then grappled Afrasiab in his pride.

He seized the king’s waistband amid the fray,And lifted him clean from the saddle’s stay.

He strove to bear him captive from the fight,And lay him bound before Kay Qobad’s sight.

But weight and strain together broke the band;The girdle snapped and slipped from Rostam’s hand.

Afrasiab fell headlong to the ground,His chiefs rushed forth and gathered close around.

On foot they bore him swiftly from the field,And formed around their king a living shield.

Then Rostam bit his hand in bitter grief,And cursed the chance that brought the king relief:

“Why did I not seize underneath his arm,But trust his girdle and release him from harm?”

The elephant-bell rang loudly through the field,The koust for several mil its thunder pealed.

A messenger sped toward the royal throne,With joyful news of glorious deeds now known:

“Rostam has cleft the center of their band,And cast Turan’s king headlong on the land.

His chiefs retrieved him; then in headlong flightHe left his army, fleeing from the fight.”

Kay Qobad cried: “Advance with all your force;Fall like the wind and drive them from their course!

Now strike the broken foe with spear and bow,And root and branch together overthrow.”

He rose like fire and led them to the fray,His army surged like wind-tossed seas that day.

With Zal and Mehrab pressing at his side,They struck with force no mortal could abide.

Bright khanjars flashed amid the battle’s cries,While shafts and arrows struck beneath the skies.

Gold helms and golden shields split under blows,And warriors reeled wherever axes rose.

It seemed a cloud arose above the fight,And cinnabar stained citron red and bright.

Blood sank to Fish while dust climbed to the Moon,And day itself was lost in battle’s gloom.

Beneath the horses’ hooves in battle’s weight,Earth became six and heaven became eight.

Then Zal beheld his son’s renowned right arm,His mighty chest held firm against alarm.

He cleft and tore and broke and bound the foe,Heads, chests, hands, feet were ruined by his blow.

Eleven hundred sixty warriors died,Slain in one charge beneath his sweeping stride.

Then Zal beheld his son in glory stand,His heart beat fast with joy at Rostam’s hand.

The Turanians fled, their lines in wild dismay,And sought escape along the beaten way.

Toward Damaghan they turned in scattered flight,Then fled to Jihun, broken in their might.

Their weapons broke, their girdles hung in shreds;No horn, no koust, no feet, no ordered heads.

The Iranian chiefs withdrew their force,And came before the Shah along their course.

They gathered spoils and captives from the field,And brought the captured Turks with wealth revealed.

The great Iranian army reached the Shah,And hailed Kay Qobad with triumphant awe.

Then Rostam too before the monarch came,Exalted high in honor and in name.

The Shah received him with distinguished grace,And called the youthful champion to his place.

On one side Rostam sat beside the throne,On the other famous Zal, to honor shown.

Upon Turan’s side Afrasiab fled,Beyond the riverbank in grief and dread.

For seven days beside the stream he stayed,Then on the eighth toward Pashang’s court he made.

He hastened to his father, grim in thought,His tongue with words, his heart with care was fraught.

“O king,” he cried, “the fault was yours alone;You sought this war where judgment should have shone.

The kings of old broke neither pact nor word;Such faithlessness in royal men was never heard.

The world is not yet free of Iraj’s line;Nor poison turned to cure by fate’s design.

One ruler falls; another takes command;The world is never left without one hand.

Now Kay Qobad has set the crown in place,And opened vengeance’s door before his face.

From Sahm’s great house a mighty warrior came,Whom Dastan blessed and Rostam was his name.

Like a fierce nahang he came with burning breath,As though the world itself would scorch to death.

He stormed through hill and valley, plain and height,And struck with gorz and sword throughout the fight.

His gorz tore through the air with every thrust;My life seemed worth no more than handfuls of dust.

He crushed our train; no man had seen beforeSuch dreadful force unleashed in savage war.

He marked my banner, heavy gorz held low,And through the crowded press he came, my foe.

He tore me from my saddle with such ease;I weighed no more than a mosquito on the breeze.

My girdle snapped, my robe-clasp broke apart,I fell beneath his feet with failing heart.

No lion bears such strength in bone and frame;His feet touch earth, his head the clouds may claim.

My warriors rushed and snatched me from his hold,Before that chunk of mountain, hard and cold.

You know my arm, my courage, and my skill,My fame in war, my fierce and dauntless will;

Yet in his grasp I seemed a mosquito,And marveled at the creature holding me so.

Elephant-bodied, lion-clawed in might,He towers like a mountain in the fight.

No pause, no thought, no counsel checks his way;No doubt or hesitation makes him stay.

He gives the rein to Rakhsh and drives his course;Hill, cave, and road are one beneath that horse.

More than a thousand gorz then struck his frame,Yet none could dim his strength or quench his flame.

Of iron, stone, and bronze he seemed to be,A form no mortal strength could make to flee.

What sea or mountain differs in his sight?What lion or mad elephant stops his might?

He rides to war as hunters seek their prey,And battle serves him merely as a play.

Had Sahm possessed such might in days of old,No Turanian chief would now his life still hold.

We must seek peace, for none can match his power;Our warriors fall and break in battle’s hour.

I am your world-conqueror, your army’s stay,Your refuge when hard fortune barred the way.

Yet I have no strength left against this foe;Take counsel now and let the warfare go.

The lands assigned by Fereydoon to TurAre ours by right and certain to endure.

Revive not feuds that time had laid to rest,Nor stir again the serpent in its nest.

If we press on beyond the boundary line,We make the world itself around us confine.

What eye has seen is stronger far than tale;Report is wind, but witness shall not fail.

This war with Iran seemed to you a game;That sport prolonged the struggle and our shame.

Delay no task that calls for action now;Who knows what fate tomorrow may allow?

The garden bears its flower for us today;Tomorrow we may seek and find it swept away.

Behold the wealth now scattered on the field:The golden arms and steeds no man could shield.

Bright helms of gold and shields of gleaming light,And Indian blades in golden sheaths shone bright.

Arabian steeds with golden bits are gone,And famed warriors swept away and trodden on.

Kulbad is gone, and Barman, lion’s bane,And Khazarvan, whom Zal’s great gorz has slain.

Fierce Shamasas, our refuge and our shield,Fell slain before Gharan, upon the field.

And more than ten thousand warriors were laid low,The finest men that Turan’s lands could show.

Worse yet, dishonor marks us with its stain;No healing art can ease this lasting pain.

Though I slew wise Aghriras, known to fame,That virtuous death still burdens all my name.

Now weigh what Time returns for good and ill,Today, tomorrow, turning as it will.

The chiefs came, standards streaming in their train,And told how I fled humbled from the plain.

Recall not now the memory of old hate,But seek accord with Qobad before too late.

Else armies gather round on every road;From all four sides they press a crushing load.

On one side Rostam shines like radiant Sun,With gorz and sword and farr surpassed by none.

On one stands Gharan, never known to yield,Whose eye has never seen defeat in field.

On one stands Keshvad, golden-helmed and bold,Who broke the force at Amol’s gates of old.

On one stands Mehrab, Kabul’s lord and guide,With farr and judgment, armies at his side.”

Chief of Turan, Pashang, with tearful eyes,Looked on Afrasiab in shocked surprise.

That Afrasiab spoke of justice showedHis heart had turned from war’s destructive road.

He chose an envoy, prudent, tried, and sound,And charged him there, the nobles gathered round.

He wrote an Artang-like and splendid scroll,A hundred colors graced it, whole on whole:

“In name of Him who rules the moon and sun,Who set creation on its ordered run,

May peace embrace great Fereydoon’s pure shade,Whose warp and weft our lineage have made.

Hear me, O Kay Qobad, renowned in might,And mark these words of kingship and of right.

For Tur first sinned to seize the royal throne,When Iraj fell through evil he had sown.

Let not that ancient quarrel keep its root,Nor bear again its bitter, poisoned fruit.

For Manuchehr avenged what Iraj bore,And paid that ancient debt in blood before.

When Fereydoon the world to sons assigned,He sought a balance just in kingly mind.

Let us abide by that appointed share,And not transgress what ancient kings held fair.

From khargah toward Mawarannahr’s side,Our portion lies, with Jihun as its guide.

Let Iran hold what once to Iraj fell,And keep the bounds that ancient wisdom drew well.

If we transgress and draw our swords in strife,We make the world too narrow for our life.

Steel shall resound; God’s wrath shall scour our ways,In this world and the next, beyond our days.

Let Fereydoon’s partition still command,And each abide within his granted land.

The earth is not worth grief so vast and sore,Nor blood and misery poured forevermore.

Zal’s head is white as snow beneath the sky,While heroes’ blood stains earth with crimson dye.

A man at last shall claim one narrow space,No more than his own measure for a place.

At last beneath the earth all men must lie,In coarse cloth wrapped, while rank and splendor die.

Greed brings but grief while we draw passing breath,And leaves us pain before we come to death.

If Qobad heeds these words of tempered mind,The wise do not turn from the path aligned.

Not one of us shall cross Jihun in dream,Nor one from Iran pass beyond the stream.

Let only greetings, messages, and wordPass between realms, in peace conveyed and heard.”

He sealed the scroll and sent it with the bestOf gems and gold, in royal splendor dressed:

Bright crowns and thrones, and maidens girdled gold,With Arabian steeds in golden trappings bold,

And Indian blades in silver sheaths conveyed,With jewels rich before the envoy laid.

The envoy entered Shah Qobad’s great hall,And laid the gifts and letter before all.

The monarch read and answered without fear,In words both long and resolute and clear:

“We did not first draw sword against your side;Afrasiab began this present tide.

The ancient wrong began when Tur struck Iraj down,And stained the earth through greed for royal crown.

Afrasiab crossed Jihun into our land,And brought this war upon Iran’s own strand.

You heard what cruel fate befell Nohzar;Even beasts grieved at deeds that went too far.

He slew wise Aghriras, who counseled right,And stained humanity with brother’s blight.

Yet if you turn from this misguided way,I shall renew our covenant today.

No greed for vengeance rules my heart or hand,Though I stand ready to defend the land.

Beyond the stream your lands shall still remain,That Afrasiab may find his rest and reign.”

Thus Qobad wrote and sealed the pact’s decree,And planted greatness’ garden with a tree.

The envoy like a leopard crossed the plain,And bore the answer back to Pashang’s train.

Then Pashang loaded baggage for the road,And dust to heaven rose where Turan rode.

He crossed the Jihun like the wind in flight,And left the fields of death beyond his sight.

The news reached Qobad; joy his spirit filled,That war was stayed and hostile fury stilled.

But Rostam said: “Seek not for peace in fight;At battle’s hour such peace is never right.

My gorz alone has brought them peace this day,And turned their boastful tide to swift dismay.”

Then Qobad spoke: “No sight can shine so fairAs justice when it ends a realm’s despair.

Pashang, sprung from Fereydoon’s noble line,Has wearied now of war and its design.

The wise turn neither crooked nor untrue,But hold to justice in whatever they do.

To you, brave Rostam, falls the sovereign spanFrom Zabulistan to the Sea of Sind’s strand.

Go rule in Nimruz with both crown and throne,And make that region prosper as your own.

Let Mehrab keep his rule in Kabul’s land,And dip each spearhead deep in poison’s hand.

For where there is a king, there war may rise,Though earth itself lies broad beneath the skies.”

The Shah prepared rich robes of royal stateFor Rostam and for Zal, renowned and great.

He crowned young Rostam, bound his waist with gold,And honored him with splendor manifold.

Entrusted with a quarter’s rule, he bowedAnd kissed the earth; then Qobad spoke aloud:

“One hair of Zal outweighs the world entire;He stands a monument that all admire.”

Five elephants were laden for the road,A royal litter bore the precious load.

With turquoise bright as Nile’s translucent hue,And cloth of gold that flashed before the view,

A treasure none could number, weigh, or tell,With royal robes for Zal, whom all knew well.

A crown and girdle, ruby, turquoise-bright,Were sent to Zal in honor of his might.

“I wish this robe of honor had been more,And richer still the gifts I send your door.

If life grants me the years that I desire,I shall free Zal from worldly want entire.”

To Gharan, Keshvad, Kharrad, Barzin bold,And Pulad too, he gave rich gems and gold.

To each deserving warrior in his sight,He granted robes and wealth by rank and right.

Some gained brocade and dinars for their worth,Some sword and axe, as rank and deeds gave birth.

From there Kay Qobad rode to Pars’ domain,Where keys to royal treasures would remain.

Istakhr then shone, the seat of Kayanian might,And Kayanian glory crowned its height.

The world turned toward him as he took the crown,In justice on the Kayan throne sat down.

He told the wise: “The world is in my care,From end to end, with all that people share.

If elephant on mosquito vents its spite,It tears a breach in justice and in right.

I seek what is just; from God’s anger springAll losses that befall the unjust king.

By toil and justice ease shall reach them all;My labor is the people’s guarding wall.

Wherever earth and water spread their store,I count that land my treasure evermore.

I hold the soldier and the townsman one;The realm itself is strength beneath the sun.

Take God as refuge; wisdom be your guide,And harmlessly through all your dealings stride.

Who has provision, let him eat and share;Let thanks for what he eats return to my care.

Who cannot earn his bread by work or fieldShall find my court a pasture freely yield.”

He gathered up his army, journeyed wide,Inspecting all the realm from side to side.

For ten full years he traveled, hearing casesIn public and in secret, in all places.

He built fair cities, splendid in display;A hundred settlements arose by Rey.

But when at last Time’s claw on him was laid,He turned toward Pars as life began to fade.

He turned to Pars and sat his throne again,With Mobadan, star-readers, learned men.

He called the warriors, studied every face,And grief rose in his heart within that place.

He thought of famous men long passed away,And made the world bloom through just gifts each day.

A hundred years he lived in joy and mirth;No Shah like him had ruled upon the earth.

He had four sons, all wise and nobly bred,To keep his name alive when he was dead:

First Kay Kavus, then Kay Arash by name,Then Kay Pashin, each worthy of his fame,

And Kay Armin, the youngest of the line;All four in peace and fortune came to shine.

A hundred years with crown and throne had flown;Then Fortune turned against what he had known.

At last he knew that death was drawing near;Life’s green leaf paled and withered through the year.

He called Kay Kavus, counsel to bestow,On justice, giving, and the path to go:

“My baggage now is packed; my road is done;Leave me the coffin; take the throne, my son.

It seems I only now from Alborz came,With joyful friends beside me, still the same.

Trust not in Fortune, sudden in her flight;The man who serves her cannot reason right.

Be just and pure of heart in all you do;The world beyond will yield its share to you.

But if greed draws your judgment far astray,You draw the sharpened sword yourself that day.

That sword first wounds the hand that drew its breath,Then yields you to your foe and leads to death.

Beyond this life your dwelling shall be fire,While here grief answers every false desire.”

He spoke, then left this fleeting world behind,And passed beyond the reach of humankind.

He left the palace for the coffin’s keep,And passed from royal halls to final sleep.

Such is the world: from dust it raises all,Then gives them to the wind when shadows fall.

The tale of Qobad here has reached its end;Let now to Kavus all our thoughts attend.