Book C1Rostam and the Div Akvan

Give worship to your Maker, and confessHe made the soul and reason you possess.

Yet let this question stand through all our days:Can any tongue give God sufficient praise?

All human knowledge ends in helplessness;Who sees its limits and feels no distress?

Philosopher, for all your endless talk,The road you close is where I mean to walk.

The truest word declares that God is One;Speech adds nothing to Him, and silence none.

Whatever things may pass before your eyes,Your heart can never hold, though reason tries.

Walk then the beaten road with steady mind,Or endless argument will leave you blind.

Release from soul and body takes one breath;You prize yourself, though briefly spared from death.

Here you remain a little while, then roamBeyond this world and find another home.

Think first upon the Maker; let your praiseRise from the inward truth that guides your ways.

He keeps the turning heavens on their round,And He is guide where good and ill are found.

The world is full of wonders, vast and true;Their depths lie far beyond the mortal view.

Your soul is wondrous, and your body too;So make self-knowledge first in all you do.

Then study heaven turning overhead,Its changing signs before your sight are spread.

The rustic singer’s tale from times of oldYou may reject and question what it told.

The learned hear such stories and may doubt,Then weigh them closely, drawing meaning out.

Yet if you probe the inward sense concealed,You will accept the tale, its truth revealed.

So hear the ancient story now begin,Though humbler words may fail to draw you in.

The tale’s old minstrel says that Kay Khosrow,One morning made his rose-bright court to glow.

Beside the Shah sat Zangeh, Gostaham,Gudarz, and Barzin, Garshasp, seed of Jam.

With Giv and veteran Rohham near the king,Wise Kharrad sat, and Gorgin joined the ring.

They raised their goblets to the king of kings,And joy rang through the court from cups and strings.

An hour of daylight passed; then from the plainA herdsman came before the royal train.

He kissed the ground before the royal throne,Then spoke before the Shah in humble tone:

“A Gur-e-Khar has come among the herd,Loosed like a Div whose chains no longer gird.

A savage lion seems to have drawn near;He breaks our horses’ necks and spreads great fear.

His coat shines bright, as though the sun had rolledAcross his hide and steeped the beast in gold.

From neck to tail one stripe runs down his back,As dark as musk, from end to end pure black.

His haunches, shoulders, chest, and nimble feetProclaim a noble racer, swift and fleet.”

Khosrow perceived it was no common steed,For no wild ass could ever match that breed.

Khosrow had seen the world, and had been toldBy watchful men what that far spring did hold:

That there the Div named Akvan made his lair,And filled the world with clamor and despair;

And that the herdsman let his horses grazeLoose on the resting-ground for nights and days.

He told the herdsman: “This is no wild ass;I know the matter. Go, and let it pass.”

He turned then to the chiefs in solemn tone:“Which lion-hearted man will ride alone?

Among you, choose a man of fearless brow,To undertake this deed and answer now.”

He scanned the warriors; none would take the quest,For only Zal’s son stood above the rest.

Since only Rostam could perform the deed,Khosrow composed a summons, urged by need.

He shaped its words with justice, love, and care,And gave it into Gorgin’s hand to bear.

He said, “Go swiftly to brave Rostam’s side;Like smoke through road and valley, onward ride.

Do not let sleep detain you on the way,Nor pause in Zabulistan one whole day.

Greet Rostam warmly with these words from me:‘Live long beneath the wheel of heaven, free.’

When he has read the letter to its end,Then speak as from his sovereign and his friend:

‘From you comes all my color and my scent;Come, show your face; let not an hour be spent.

Arise and come; make haste at Khosrow’s call,When these words reach you, do not wait at all.’”

Then Gorgin hurried like a storming gale,As though a Gur-e-Khar pursued his trail.

He came at last where Zabul’s borders lie,And sought the chief, and bowed as he came by.

Rostam then read the summons that he showed,And asked him how he journeyed on the road.

He read the Shah’s command, and did not wait,But came in pride and splendor to the gate.

He came to court and kissed the royal ground,Then blessed the Shah, in royal fortune crowned.

He said: “O Shah, you called; I stand prepared,And for your will my ready arm is bared.

May goodness and dominion be your own.I am come: say what task you would make known.”

He welcomed him and gave him honored placeUpon the throne beside him, speaking grace:

“O Pahlevan, live glad in heart and soul;This day is blessed, for I behold you whole.

My fortune rests upon your prudent mind;This task requires a strength of rarest kind.

For this I called you, strongest of the strong;Do not reject the task or count it wrong.

If this command of mine be no hard thing,Then hear what news a herdsman brought your king.

A herdsman says a Gur-e-Khar has strayedAmong that very herd.” And so conveyed

From end to end the story he had heard,Repeating to the chief the herdsman’s word.

He added: “Weigh yourself in this fight too,And set your strength against what it may do.

Go, and be watchful; guard yourself from him:It may be Ahriman, whose hate is grim.”

Then Rostam answered: “With your fortune’s aid,The servant of your throne is not afraid.

No Div, no lion, and no dragon maleEscapes my sword’s sharp edge when I assail.”

He went forth like a lion to the chase,With kamand coiled, and Rakhsh at dragon-pace.

He made toward the plain the herdsman knew,Where, loosed among the herd, that creature flew.

Three days he searched the plain among the steeds;The fourth revealed the source of monstrous deeds.

A creature rushed like some fierce northern blast,Its golden body through the pasture passed.

Its hide was bright, yet mischief burned below;So Rostam spurred swift Rakhsh against the foe.

But when he came up close, his purpose turned,And other counsel in his thought he learned.

He thought: “No sword is needed for this prey;My kamand’s coil will seize the beast today.

The khanjar shall not spoil it. That is clear:Alive before the Shah it shall appear.”

He cast the royal kamand through the air,Intent to seize the creature unaware.

The nimble Gur-e-Khar perceived the throw,Then vanished as the kamand came down low.

Then Rostam knew: “No Gur-e-Khar can fadeAs this one fades. Not force, but craft, must aid.

This is Akvan himself, concealed by art;A breath of steel must pierce his hidden heart.

A wise man told me where the Div abides,And that within a gur’s own skin he hides.

My sword shall stain his yellow body red,And strike before the Div can yet have fled.”

Just then the Gur-e-Khar came into view,And forth the sepahbod’s swift charger flew.

He strung his bow astride the wind-swift horse,And loosed a shaft like Azargashasp’s force.

Yet as he bent his royal bow to aim,The Gur-e-Khar had vanished like a flame.

Then Rostam searched the pasture far and wide,Three days and nights, and rest was still denied.

Thirst took him, and a hunger sharp and deep;His head sank on the saddle-bow in sleep.

At last he found a rose-bright spring in sight,And hastened toward that water, clear and bright.

He watered Rakhsh, dismounting by the brink;And weariness let his tired eyelids sink.

He kept the Babr-e Bayan on, and woundHis kamand on his arm, his girdle bound.

He loosed the saddle-girth, and for his bedHe laid the khadang bow beneath his head.

Rakhsh found his pasture and his sleeping-place;The saddle-felt lay by the water’s face.

When from afar Akvan saw Rostam sleep,He came like wind across the meadow’s sweep.

He dug the earth around where Rostam lay,Then raised the ground and bore it far away.

When Rostam woke, his heart was seized with dread,And fear and wonder through his spirit spread.

He thought: “This foul Div’s cunning has prevailed;My sword and strength in empty air have failed.

Alas my heart, my strength, my arm!” he cried;“The world is wrecked if I am cast aside.

If he destroys me, all my strength outdone,The world will grieve, for Akvan’s will has won.

Afrasiab shall gain his heart’s desire;Iran’s bright throne and crown will fall to fire.

Tus, Gudarz, and Khosrow shall be no more,No tabiras, no elephants of war.

Through me the world will suffer grief and woe;Who now will strike this cursed and cunning foe?”

Then Akvan said to Rostam in his plight:“O Piltan, name your wish from this great height.

Choose where to fall before I let you go:Which place would you prefer, so far below?

Shall I cast you on mountains or the wave?Where will you fall, far from your comrades brave?”

Piltan gave thought to him, and weighed him well:The very air lay in that Div’s dark spell.

“If he should cast me on the mountain-stone,My body serves no more, nor flesh nor bone.

He acts against whatever words I say;No oath or promise turns him from his way.

For should I ask him: ‘Fling me in the sea,’ His crooked will rejects my spoken plea;

The contrary fiend will cast me down to breakIn pieces on the crags, for malice’ sake.

I need a ruse to thwart his sly design;His guile must meet its equal now in mine.”

Then Rostam said: “The wise of Chin upholdA story of this matter, long since told:

Soroush will never greet his soul above;No gate of paradise will show him love.

He stays in misery, denied the sky,And finds no welcome when his soul must fly.

Do not cast me into the ocean’s foam,To make the fishes’ jaws my final home.

Fling me instead upon the mountain high,Where lions tear the flesh of those who die.”

The Div, when he had heard, sent up a roarThat rolled toward the water’s distant shore.

“You shall lie hidden in both worlds,” said he;“I cast you where no living man can be.

In misery there, shall you still abide,The other dwelling to your soul denied.”

Defying all that Rostam spoke aloud,He hurled him toward the sea from out the cloud.

He reached the water, and his blade came out;The nahang scattered, circling him in rout.

He struck out with his feet and left hand free,While with his right he battled through the sea.

He fought and swam and would not rest at all,And met each wave as heroes meet a wall.

If valor could avert the fatal day,Time would not sweep great Rostam’s name away.

But know that turning time is ever thus:At times it nourishes, then poisons us.

He struggled bravely through the waters vast,And, landing, praised the Maker, danger passed.

He thanked Yazdan who kept him safe from ill,And drew him from the sea by sovereign will.

He rested, loosed the girdle from his side,And by the spring the Babr-e Bayan dried.

When Babr-e Bayan and kamand were both dry,The savage Lion armed, his wrath still high.

He went back to the stream where he had slept,Across whose banks the Div’s destruction swept.

But glossy Rakhsh was nowhere in the field;Then Rostam’s heart with furious anger reeled.

He took the saddle up, and bridle too,And followed Rakhsh’s track till evening grew.

Such is the custom of this rugged sphere,That turns and gives no reason, year by year.

He went on foot, still hunting, till his eyesFell on a meadow spread beneath the skies.

Within were running waters everywhere,Francolin and the ring-dove in the air.

Afrasiab’s herdsman slept within the glade,While Rakhsh among the royal horses strayed.

Rakhsh raged among the mares, a Div in wrath,And flung his neighing wide across their path.

Then Rostam cast his royal kamand wide,And caught proud Rakhsh and drew him to his side.

He brushed the dust from Rakhsh’s shining frame,Then saddled him, and blessed great Yazdan’s name.

He bridled him and mounted, set to ride,One hand upon the sword-hilt at his side.

He drove the royal herd from its abode,And called on Yazdan’s name along the road.

The head groom heard the tumult, and awokeIn sudden terror, trembling as he spoke.

He ordered the horsemen swiftly to rise,And mount their steeds, alarmed by those wild cries.

They took their kamands and their bows in hand,To learn what foe had dared invade the land.

“Who dares to enter on this meadow-ground,With all these riders camped and armed around?”

The horsemen pressed behind him, hot to tearThe hide from Rostam’s back and strip it bare.

But Rostam saw them charging through the dust,And drew his sword to meet the riders’ thrust.

He roared, “I am great Rostam, Zal’s own son,And Sahm’s own grandson; face me, every one!”

His sword cut down two-thirds of them in flight; The herdsmen fled headlong from the hero’s might.

Afrasiab, amazed, rode swift that dayTo view the royal herds that grazed away.

Two thousand chiefs came riding in his train,With wine and rud, upon the watered plain.

Each year the herdsman let the horses graze;The king arrived; bare pastures met his gaze.

Then sudden clamor rose; the horses fled,While Rakhsh’s dust-cloud climbed above each head.

The aged herdsman rushed into his sight,Struck by an arrow, and half-mad with fright.

Amazed, he told the king in broken tone:“Great Rostam came and fought us all alone.

Alone he drove our herd off, and he slewSo many of our people, and withdrew.”

The Turks cried out: “He rides without a guard!To arms! Such shame has struck our people hard.

Are we so wretched, sunk in such disgrace,That one man sheds our blood before our face?

He shames our name for manhood by this deed;We cannot let him take a single steed.”

With four great elephants and fighting men,Afrasiab rode after him again.

When they drew near, Piltan took his bow, and cameUpon the Turan ranks with rage aflame.

As clouds rain hail, he rained his arrows down,Then struck with steel and split each helm and crown.

When sixty gallant chiefs had fallen round,He cast his bow and sword upon the ground.

He rained his gorz like hail; and forty moreFell dead, till Afrasiab fled the war.

Four snow-white elephants he took as prize,And drove them through the ranks before their eyes.

The warriors of Turan sank in despair,For Rostam’s gorz kept thundering through the air.

Two farsangs, like a cloud of spring, he pressedBehind him, raining ruin without rest.

He turned back with the elephants and herd,And took the baggage-train without a word.

Yet when he reached the spring where he had lain,His valiant heart still burned with wrath and pain.

Then Akvan came before him, fierce and proud,And challenged him with bitter words aloud:

“Have you not had your fill of grief and strife?You fled the sea and nahang’s claw with life.

You have returned to meet me in the fray;Now learn what fate has written for today.

No further battle shall your spirit know;No sword again from your strong hand shall go.”

When peerless Rostam heard the Div’s loud cry,He roared back like a lion to the sky.

He loosed the twisted kamand from its ring,And cast it round the Div in one swift swing.

Then Rostam twisted round within his seat,And raised his gorz to make the stroke complete.

As though he swung a hammer in his hand,He smashed the Div and hurled him to the sand.

He crushed his head and brain with one fierce blow,Then leapt to earth beside his fallen foe.

The water-blue khanjar he drew, and throughThe Div’s thick neck he cut it, clean and true.

He praised the World-Creator, whose great mightHad granted him the triumph in the fight.

Know this: whoever treads the path of ill, And shows no thanks to Yazdan, heart or will,

Whoever turns from virtue’s noble plan, Count him a Div, and count him not a man!

Let not the wise man mock the tale of old, Nor miss the inner truth these figures hold:

For evil men who walk upon the earthAre Divs in deed, whatever was their birth.

To call Akvan a Div would shame the name;Let Akvan stand alone and bear his fame.

What say you, aged master, who have triedThe world’s much heat and cold on every side?

Who knows how many ups and downs remainThat this long age will bring us, loss and gain?

The pace of time, so long in its career,Lets words slip from the hand and disappear.

Who knows what heaven’s circling wheel will bring;The grief of war or joy’s returning spring?

When Rostam cut the vile Div’s head away,He mounted Rakhsh and rode without delay.

He gathered all the herds of Turan’s train,And seized the spoils abandoned on the plain.

He drove the elephants and goods ahead,While news of victory followed where he led.

When tidings reached the Shah that Rostam came,Returned in triumph with that farr and fame,

They said, “He sought a gur with kamand’s swing,But slew a Div and brought spoils to the king.

Now Div and elephant have come to hand;At sea a nahang, leopard on the land.

No lion, Div, or warrior of the fieldCan face his sword and hope to make him yield.”

Khosrow prepared to welcome Rostam near;The warriors armed and gathered without fear.

The chiefs set on their helmets, and they spreadThe banner of the Shah high overhead.

With karnay and with daray borne in view,They marched to honor Rostam, brave and true.

When Rostam saw the monarch’s banner rise,He knew the Shah had come before his eyes.

He left his steed and bowed upon the ground,And shouts and elephants and koust rang round.

He laid his famous head upon the earth,And said: “O shining Khosrow, king by birth,

A greater one like you should never rideTo meet a lesser servant at his side.

I am the least of servants of your crown;You are the Shah of Kayanian’s renown.”

With love then Khosrow blessed him: “May the wheelOf heaven be ally to your good steel.

The age recalls no other of your kind;Through you our soul has gladness, heart and mind.”

The army’s chiefs approached him one by one,While Khosrow spurred his charger by Zal’s son.

The crown-bestowing Shah, with joy restored,Bade Rostam mount and ride beside his lord.

They reached the palace, glad in heart and will,With loyal love and royal kindness still.

The herds he shared among his loyal band,But kept proud Rakhsh, the steed of his command.

He sent the elephants, and they were shownTo him whose crown and seat are his alone.

For one full week they feasted in the hall,With wine and rud and minstrels at the call.

There Rostam, seated with the Shah at wine,Recounted Akvan’s shape and dark design:

“I never saw a gur so fine as he,So lofty, of such color, fair to see.

Yet when my sword had cleft his outer hide,No friend or foe could mourn the beast that died.

His head was like an elephant’s; his hairHung long; his mouth held boar’s teeth everywhere.

His eyes were white, his lips were black as night;His shape was hateful to the human sight.

No camel ever matched his bulk and force;No beast alive could face him on his course.

The soil became a sea of streaming blood,And all the ground lay drowned beneath the flood.

My khanjar cut his head off; and the skyTook blood from him like rain, and flung it high.”

Kay Khosrow marveled at it; and he laidThe cup aside, and praise to Yazdan made.

For no one in the world has ever knownSuch wonders as this Pahlevan has shown.

In manly strength, in stature, and in face,No mortal ever held so high a place.

He said, “Had not the Maker, in His love,Dealt me my share of justice from above,

I never would have had a man so bold,To hunt down Divs and beasts through heat and cold.”

Thus much merry time in joy and wine was spent,With feast and tale that left them all content.

The third week, matchless Rostam longed for home,Victorious and glad, no more to roam.

“I yearn for Zal, the son of Sahm,” he cried,“This longing will not let my heart abide.

I must depart, yet I shall come in peace,Back to the court when longing finds release.

We still must ready vengeance for that wrong;Siavash’s blood has cried too loud, too long.

No herd of steeds can answer for the slain;The sword must still avenge our deeper pain.”

The world’s great Shah unlocked his treasury gate,And brought out gold and gems of royal weight.

He filled a cup with treasure for his guest,And five gold-woven robes among the rest.

He gave him slaves from Rum with belts of gold,Attendants whose gold torques their necks enfold.

With carpets, ivory thrones, and rich brocade,Dinars and torques and crowns in bright parade.

The Shah gave all to Rostam: “Take this treasure,But stay with me one more day, rest at leisure.

Then afterward make ready to depart.”They drank that day with open hand and heart.

At dawn brave Rostam started on his way;Two farsangs with him rode the Shah that day,

Then Rostam took his road; and turning back,The Shah rode homeward on the selfsame track.

The world was straightened wholly, and it grewTo turn as he desired it, through and through.

Thus turns the ancient wheel, and thus it flies:Now like a bow it bends, now arrow-wise.

Thus ends the tale of Akvan and his bane;And Bijan’s grief awaits a later strain.