Book C3The Battle of the Twelve Rukhs

The world goes by in sorrow, day by day;Both good and evil pass in time away.

If on the road of greed you choose to tread,The passing world brings deeper toil and dread.

Let knowledge lead you; keep truth at your side;No loss will come to you from either guide.

One view holds greatness worthy to be sought,Though in a dragon’s breath it must be bought.

Who serves his greed and seeks revenge will hearNo voice of praise from others, far or near.

Yet since this passing world will not abide,What matters if our lodging is cramped or wide?

When in the grove the cypress bends its height,Its shining lamp grows dim and loses light.

When its leaves are withered and roots unsound,Its head begins to droop toward the ground.

It sprang from dust, to dust again must go,And all around lie terror, care, and woe.

With prudence, wisdom, and restraint in place,A man may meet the world with tranquil grace.

Though you live long, the body’s pain and acheWill make you long at last your leave to take.

Life is a sea that stretches far and wide;Its bottom lies unseen beneath the tide.

Its secrets fill a treasury locked from sight;You do not know the key to bring them light.

However much you gain, you crave still more;The world you feed on bites you to the core.

Three things you need, and none can be denied;For these no blame falls on you from outside.

You need your food, your clothing, and your bed;With these, let thoughts of further wants be shed.

Beyond these three lie toil and greed’s employ;If you are wise, take pride in only joy.

You know this world will never stay with you;Why let greed wound your bright soul through and through?

Enjoy what you possess; seek nothing more,For greed wears down the honor that you bore.

The Turkish monarch’s heart, as I have heard,By greed was always vexed and inward stirred.

When he had left the field where Rostam’s mightHad made the world a darkness to his sight,

He hurried on till Khallokh lay ahead;He hid his head from kings in shame and fled.

He reached the palace, anguish in his breast,And summoned seasoned chiefs at his behest:

Piran, Garsivaz, Qarakhan drew near;And Shideh with the rest came forth to hear.

He spoke at length of all that had occurred,Recalling every deed and every word.

He said, “Since first I wore the sovereign crown,And sun and moon poured royal splendor down,

I held my rule, and rival I had none;No hand had turned my rein beneath the sun.

Since Manuchehr’s great war in former years,Iran has never crossed Turan with spears.

Now men from Iran raid my doors by night,Their hands stretch toward my life in deadly spite.

Now cowards venture where they dared not tread;The stag invades the mighty lion’s bed.

We must prepare for vengeance, strike this blow,Or from our ravaged land much smoke will flow.

Better to send our messengers abroad,And rouse each province under crown and rod.

From Turkish lands and Chin we must call outA thousand thousand warriors, brave and stout.

We will gather armies round Iran and stand,And set a field of battle on each hand.”

The sages weighed his words and brought their ownWise counsel into concord with the throne.

“We must cross over Jihun with our train,And sound the royal koust across the plain.

At Amuy we must camp, and fight, and sendOur raids without respite, without an end.

There we shall fight, and there much blood shall flow;Against brave Giv and Rostam we shall go.

Those proud, renowned warriors who cities takeHave poisoned arrowheads for battle’s sake.”

The monarch’s face and fortune brightened then;His joy returned at hearing all these men.

He blessed the warriors and the sages whoHad counseled him, with courtesy their due.

He called a scribe and dictated his word,The fitting message that must now be heard.

He chose his envoys, told them his intent;To Faghfoor and Khutan’s crowned lord they went.

He wrote to chiefs and nobles everywhere,And bade each realm for coming war prepare.

He called for troops and set his heart on war,For Rostam’s deeds had left his spirit sore.

Two weeks passed; troops from Chin, Khutan, and allThe Turkish lands assembled at his call.

The earth swelled like a boiling sea below;The plain was hidden by the troops’ great flow.

The king gathered horse-herds from all around,And drove them through the city’s open ground.

The treasures kept since Tur, concealed from sight,From father down to son, were brought to light.

He opened purse on purse to pay his horde,And in a scattered stream his dinars poured.

When every warrior had been well supplied,The troops stood armed; all wants were satisfied.

He chose fifty thousand, all battle-tried,To meet the toil of battle, side by side.

His warrior son, Shideh, stood in sight,A chief distinguished for his skill in fight.

“I give to you this well-appointed band;March to Khwarazm and guard that borderland.

Keep watch along the borders, sleepless, steeled;Remain prepared for battle in the field.”

He bade Piran choose fifty thousand menFrom Chin, to take the field of war again.

He said, “March into Iran; overthrowThe new Shah’s throne and lay his splendor low.

Seek no accord with him, no path of peace;Speak only war and vengeance without cease.

Who brings together water and the flameDoes wrong to both; on him must rest the blame.”

Two noble chiefs, their warrior hearts still strong,One old and wise, one young, went with the throng.

With Afrasiab’s counsel, forth they passed;The elder went at ease, the younger fast.

With golden koust, with gorz and sword, the crowdRoared like the thunder of a storming cloud.

Then tidings reached the conquering Shah’s ear:“A Turkish force in arms is drawing near.

Afrasiab, that tyrant steeped in spite,Can find no rest by day or sleep by night.

He seeks to lift his head and hide disgrace,And gathers troops from every distant place.

He grinds sharp poison for his lance’s head,And aims his rein where Iran’s borders spread.

Three hundred thousand warlike horsemen mustCross the Jihun with lifted spears and dust.

In battle-time their dust will climb the sky;From Jihun’s banks it surges up on high.

The warriors at Afrasiab’s palace keepAwake; the tabira’s din denies them sleep.

With shaypur blasts and daray ringing loud,Fear seized each heart throughout the gathered crowd.

If that great army comes to us to fight,No lion, though strong, will withstand its might.

He gave Piran the frontier of Turan,With no small army for that Pahlevan.

And fifty thousand, armed for battle, massed,Have marched toward Khwarazm, their numbers vast.

Their chief is Shideh of the lion-heart,Whose scimitar could tear fire’s core apart.

His troops are like mad elephants in strife,That level mountains as they charge for life.”

The monarch heard and sat absorbed in thought,Weighing the news his watchful agents brought.

Then said, “Wise men, I heard Mobadan sayThese words, which bear upon our news today:

‘The Turkish moon may climb the heavens bright,But from Iran’s sun it will suffer blight.

Strike the black snake that rises from its bed,And lifts toward the cudgel its poison head.

The king who plants injustice as a treeWill see his throne and kingship turn and flee.’”

He summoned the learned Mobadan near,And laid before them what had reached his ear.

The chiefs and warlike sages came to shareThe king’s close council and his weight of care.

There Zal and Rostam came in royal pride,Gudarz and Giv took counsel at their side.

Shidush and Rohham, Farhad, brave and wise,Sat with the chiefs to hear the king’s replies.

Bijan and Gostaham, Gorgin all cameWith Zangeh, Gazhdaham, to share the aim.

Great Tus, son of Nohzar, came with his train,And Fariborz, of Kavus’s royal vein.

All other nobles of the court stood by,The monarch’s flock, assembled under his eye.

He told the Pahlevans: “The Turks now dareTo seek the crown and throne; for these they prepare.

The foe has massed his troops, his claws are bared;We too must go to battle well prepared.”

He gave command; before his palace-gateHorns, gavdam, brazen khom proclaimed his state.

He left the palace for the open ground;His throne upon an elephant was bound.

Upon that elephant, the Shah struck loudThe sounding bowl before the gathered crowd.

The earth seemed coated with an indigo stain,Dark blue across the gathering ranks and plain.

The air turned blue; earth shone in colors bright,The warriors moved like leopards in their might.

With gorzes gripped, their wrathful ranks took form;The land surged like a sea beneath a storm.

A proclamation from the court was cried:“O Pahlevans of Iran, far and wide,

No man who knows the stirrup and the reinMay sit at home for comfort or for gain.”

The Shah called chosen horsemen to his side,From Rum and Hind, with chiefs of proven pride.

And Arab champions, ready for the fight,Like raging lions, armed in all their might.

“Three hundred thousand, girded, I command,From the spear-bearing horsemen’s desert land.

Who fails in forty days to join my trainShall wear no crown hereafter in my reign.”

They sent out riders with the royal writThrough every side where loyal horsemen sit.

Two weeks went by; throughout the realm at largeTroops moved in answer to the royal charge.

The country seethed with armies in their might;The world rang out with tumult at the sight.

At cockcrow, koust rang out on every side,Their thunder sounded through the country wide.

The chiefs of every province led their trainToward the royal gate across the plain.

He opened ancient treasures, rich and old,And paid the army silver coins and gold.

From all the Shah’s great wealth, the troops were paid,And golden crowns upon their heads were laid.

With bargostvan and jowshan all arrayed,An iron-bodied mountain stood displayed.

When all the army’s needs had been supplied,The Shah set every care for them aside.

From that great army, he chose a mounted band,Thirty thousand, each with a sword in hand.

To Rostam he entrusted all that might,And turned to speak before the men of fight.

He said, “Famed hero, lead this force awayTo Sistan and to Hind without delay.

From Ghaznin take the upper road, and gainThe crown and throne and signet of that reign.

Give Faramarz the crown and signet there,With troops he chooses left within his care.

When you have won the realm and fashioned peace,So leopard and lamb may drink while conflicts cease,

Then sound the brazen koust with all your might;Let shaypur sound and ney ring clear and bright.

In Kashmir and in Kabul, do not stay;No longer linger; take the homeward way.

This war with Afrasiab gives no release;I find no food, no sleep, no rest or peace.”

Lohrasp received Alanons, Garcha’s land,And set that charge within the hero’s hand.

To Lohrasp, warrior born of royal race,He turned and spoke before him, face to face:

He said, “Choose seasoned riders from the lines,A mountain-force beneath its battle signs.

Lead hardened horsemen out to meet the foe,And bring the enemy to grief and woe.”

He bade Ashkash lead thirty thousand horse,Armed with the spear, a lion-hearted force.

His wolf-like troops to Khwarazm took their way,And bore the mighty koust in their array.

He bade him camp before Khwarazm’s walls,And fight Shideh, who ruled within its halls.

The fourth great army he gave Gudarz to lead,With much advice for every coming need.

“Go with the great men of Iran in pride,With Zangeh, Gorgin, Gostaham beside.

Take Fariborz, Kavus’s son, with you,And Farhad, Giv, Guraza, bold Shapur too.”

He bade them arm themselves for battle’s fray,And hasten to Turan without delay.

Gudarz, the son of Keshvad, seasoned, shrewd,Stood with the chiefs in stern and martial mood.

They heard and mounted at the king’s command,Gudarz rode at the head of every band.

The Shah then said, “You now are bound for fight;Girded for war, keep this command in sight:

Take care you do no wrongful deed by might;Destroy no thriving home in battle’s spite.

Stretch out no hand to evil, earn no blame;Remember house and honor, name and shame.

Who does not gird himself to fight your train,Let him receive from you no harm or pain.

For God approves no evil that we do;We do not stay here but are passing through.

In leading forth the army to Turan,Keep cool your heart, O seasoned Pahlevan.

Do not grow rash like Tus at every slightAnd mount the koust on elephants for fight.

Be just in every deed, however small;Remember God, whose gifts bring good to all.

Send to Piran a veteran, wise and keen,Who keeps in mind the things that he has seen.

With ample counsel, open wide his ear;Let him attend the words that he must hear.

Then spread the cloak of kindness over him;Let no harsh word that gentle covering dim.”

Gudarz replied, “Your word stands high and bright,Above the sun and moon in all their light.

I go exactly as you bid me go;You are my Shah, and I your servant low.”

Ahead, full sixty elephants now strode;Their heavy tread made earth bend to the load.

Four mighty elephants, his chosen best,The Shah in royal trappings had them dressed.

Upon their backs they set a throne of gold,A seat of royal glory to behold.

He bade Gudarz mount up, and there be seenUpon the golden throne, in royal sheen.

He stirred the elephants; their dust rose high,And read good fortune in that clouded sky.

“From Piran’s house we will make the smoke ascend,Like dust these elephants behind them send.”

By Khosrow’s order, stage by stage they went;No harm was done wherever troops were sent.

When old Gudarz drew near to Raibad’s plain,He chose his captains from the gathered train.

He chose Iran’s tried horsemen, men of worth,Wise speakers, skilled in war throughout the earth.

A thousand khanjar-bearing warriors came,All chosen from the army’s men of fame.

The chief then summoned Giv and told his sonThe Shah’s command and what must now be done.

He said, “My prudent son, whose lifted headStands over many chiefs in fame and dread,

I have selected worthy troops for you,Provincial chiefs, experienced, loyal, true.

You now must journey onward to Piran,Speak, then hear out that seasoned Pahlevan.

Say this: ‘I reached Turan with my array,The Shah’s commands my purpose on the way.

You know the words and deeds that you have shown,What toil and peace and trouble you have known,

And how Turan has armed itself to fightThe Kayanian kings with wrongful might.

Great Fereydoon left life in grief and pain;His eyes shed yellow tears like bitter rain.

Iran was filled with pain, the Shah with grief;For Iraj, the moon went dark; none found relief.

You, only you among Turan, claim grace,And boast of faith with honor on your face.

Yet kindness is a hollow word you claim;I find no honest peace behind your name.

Still our courteous Shah instructed me:Speak gently; let no harshness stain your plea.

You laid no evil groundwork in the strifeThat brought an end to noble Siavash’s life.

The Shah declares your standing shall endure;Of his own father’s blood your hands are pure.

For all the wrongs committed in the past,For kings whom you have injured, first to last,

The Shah will pass them over, every one,And count as good the evil you have done.

You need not perish here beneath my handFor all those former wrongs throughout the land.

Yet time against you hastens in its course,As war draws near with Afrasiab’s force.

The great men of Iran and this my sonWill tell my counsel fully, one by one.

Tell them whatever counsel you may know,And ask what further words they would bestow.

If heart and tongue speak truly, free from strife,You shall escape your cares and save your life.

Your land and kin shall prosper, free from dread;My sword shall leave your neck and spare your head.

But if your guilt should come to light and show,Your crown and throne and royal cap must go.

I seek no rest or sleep till I shall bringMy gorz to where Afrasiab is king.

Our Shah need muster no great force to gainHis vengeance upon Afrasiab’s domain.

But if you heed my counsel and give ear,And trust my prudent words with judgment clear,

First send the men who set revenge alight,And rolled their sleeves for bloodshed in the fight,

Who reached their hands for Siavash’s blood,And brought the world to ruin in that flood.

Bind them like dogs and send them from your band,Delivered into my awaiting hand.

We shall dispatch them onward to the king,To face whatever judgment he may bring.

Their lives are his to take upon that day,Or he may choose to wipe their guilt away.

My Shah, the guardian of the world’s wide frame,Has given me the list of every name.

Have you not heard the mighty lion’s lore,Once spoken to the wolf in days before?

For those who shed the Kayanian line’s blood,Fate keeps no bed except the dust and mud.

Moreover, all the treasures you possessBecome your foes and bring you dark distress.

So send your noble steeds and jewels bright,Brocades, dinars, and crowns of royal light.

Send swords and khaftans, Indian khanjars laidWith bargostvans and helms for battle made.

Send all your silver, gold, and battle gear;Hold nothing back; send all your riches here.

The wealth you took unjustly from the land,You wrested from the people by your hand.

With these you may buy life and find a roadTo safety from the weight of this great load.

Whatever suits the Shah among this store,I send to him who rules from shore to shore.

The rest I give the army, to repayThe wrongs you have committed to this day.

And send your chosen son, whose charge is known:To guard your royal signet and your throne.

And send your two proud brothers at his side,Both army chiefs who lift their heads in pride.

Send all these three as hostages to me,Before the gathered chiefs, for all to see.

Then I may trust your conduct and be sure;The tree of faith shall bear its fruit secure.

Consider now and choose between two ways;The first: approach the Shah and win his praise.

Wash Afrasiab’s love from heart and sight;No longer dream of him through darkest night.

Go with your kin and kindred to Khosrow;Rest where his royal shade and mercies flow.

I pledge that Khosrow’s favor will be won,And raise your head above the shining sun.

You know the kindness rooted in his breast;He will receive you as an honored guest.

Leave Turan; make your dwelling in Chakh’s town;Take up your throne and raise your royal crown.

But if through fear of Afrasiab’s handYou will not come into Iran’s bright land,

And if your heart remains with Turan’s king,Go to him; do not wait for war to spring.

If you prepare for war, then know my might:A lion’s strength, a leopard’s claws in fight.

I leave no share of thrones to Turan’s reign;My bow is cloud, and poison is its rain.

If war is what you choose, then take your stand;You may come onward into Iran’s land.

Come forth prepared for battle on the plain,If you can face the lion and remain.

When both opposing armies stand in sight,The guilty shall be known from those in right.

If you refuse to hear the words I say,Regret shall meet you at the end one day.

Regret will bring no profit then; instead,The sword of Time will reap your severed head.’”

The Pahlevan thus charged his son to go:“Tell old Piran each word and let him know.”

Giv rode to Balkh, his father’s words in mind,Those bitter words he would not leave behind.

He halted, sent a messenger ahead,As old Gudarz, his father, wisely said.

That night he rode from Balkh to Visagard,With all the troops he summoned, riding hard.

There Piran sought Iran’s great crown and throne,With warriors ranked and banners of his own.

The messenger arrived where Piran stayed;He saw the chief and all his troops arrayed.

The messenger before old Piran said,“Giv has reached Balkh with captains at his head.”

When Piran heard, he raised the koust on high;From all his warriors rose a ringing cry.

He sounded brazen ney in ringing blast,And hoofbeats blackened earth as horsemen passed.

A hundred and ten thousand horsemen came,Prepared for war and hungry after fame.

He left two-thirds behind him, then he calledHis veteran chiefs, whom no alarm appalled.

He reached Jihun and ranked his warriors near,Along the riverbank, their order clear.

He met with Giv; his ranks, ranged front to rear,A wall beside the river, spear on spear.

Two weeks they spoke to keep the peace in sight,And spare their armies from a needless fight.

They spoke at length, and Piran heard each side;Turan’s own guilt could no more be denied.

Iran’s great chiefs now seized their chance to speak,And pressed their case against the side found weak.

Piran dispatched a rider with his word,To Afrasiab, that all might there be heard:

“Gudarz, the son of Keshvad, now has shownHis crown above the seat of Iran’s throne.

His chosen son, the chief of his array,Has come to me as envoy here today.

Yet I attend to what you bid me do,And stake my life on loyalty to you.”

When this report reached Turan’s monarch grim,He chose an army that would strengthen him.

He sent to Piran thirty thousand strong,All swordsmen chosen from his warlike throng.

He said, “Draw out your vengeful sword, and driveThem from the earth; leave not a man alive.

Spare not Gudarz or Giv in battle’s flame,Nor Rohham, Farhad, Gorgin; none by name.

From four sides horsemen come against our might,All seeking Iran’s victory in open fight.

I will bring Turanian riders through the land,And make Iran run blood beneath their hand.

By counsel of the wise and men of power,I shall raise dust on Khosrow in that hour.”

When Piran saw that mighty warrior band,Like wolves that thirst for blood, before him stand,

With strength renewed, he turned his heart to fight,And washed away his honor, choosing spite.

His once-kind heart turned cruel beneath war’s call;His thoughts now turned to battle, one and all.

He said to Giv, “Rise now and take your way,Return to old Gudarz and clearly say:

‘Seek not from me what every sage must blame;No wise man would approve so harsh a claim.

First, you demand our chiefs of noble name;How could I yield them up to you in shame?

You ask my weapons, troops, and royal crown,My throne and noble steeds to be laid down.

My brother, light of soul, you would demand,My chosen son, the champion of my band.

You tell me: “Send them all from you away.”Can any sage have words so crude to say?

Far better death than such a life of shame:A slave in service, though a chief in name.

A leopard spoke this saying in the fight,When facing a fierce lion in his might:

“Far better that in battle I am slainThan live to bear dishonor’s lasting stain.”

Besides, my king has set this warlike course,And troops have come at his command in force.’”

Giv heard this answer, turned, and rode away,With all the famous warriors of his array.

When Giv had left him, Piran called to arms,And roared for battle, sounding war’s alarms.

He came to Kanabad and took his stand,Below the mountain, with his gathered band.

When Giv returned before his father’s face,He gave Piran’s reply with measured grace.

He said, “Bring out the army in array,To where you mean to hold the coming fray.

Piran has no desire for peace at all,Nor room for justice when tabiras call.

I spoke with him at length of everything,And told him all the words you bade me bring.

When guilt appeared, he sent his urgent wordBy hiyun, so the Turkish monarch heard:

‘Gudarz and Giv have come to wage this fight;Send troops to me at once with all your might.’

From Afrasiab came the armed array;They crossed the river as we rode away.

Now koust on elephants proclaim his power;He takes the lead against us in this hour.”

Gudarz replied, “He must be tired of breath,And weary of his life to court such death.

I looked for this from one who hid his aim;Yet from the Shah the binding order came.

I had to send you; no choice could remain;Now has the Shah discerned his heart made plain.

Before the Shah dispatched us on our way,I spoke this warning of him on that day:

‘Withdraw your love from one whose tongue and heartDo not agree, but stand from truth apart.

Piran gives all his love to Turan’s men;Let our Shah wash his hands of Piran then.’”

Brave Piran followed swiftly in Giv’s trace,Like a fierce lion, driving on the chase.

When old Gudarz perceived Piran draw near,He sounded koust and readied sword and spear.

He marched from Raibad to the open plain,And ranked his mountain-force in ordered train.

The daylight failed while, from Kanabad’s height,Piran moved out and filled the road with might.

He brought his mighty army out in force,Like raging wolves, the warriors, man and horse.

A hundred thousand Turkish horsemen, cladIn jowshan, gripped the spears that each man had.

They bound their belts for battle on the plain,With spears and Indian swords throughout the train.

The armored lines beneath their iron helmsLooked like two mountains moving through the realms.

Then karnay rose in one resounding cry;The mountains seemed to move beneath the sky.

From Raibad out to Kanabad they spread;The vales grew black and blue where armies tread.

Spearheads were stars, and swords the sun that glowed;The earth was iron; gorzes, clouds that flowed.

The earth rang back the warriors’ shouting cry;With helms and spears, their iron filled the sky.

Gudarz surveyed Turan’s advancing line,That surged like seas beneath each royal sign.

Flag followed flag, and troop came after troop,Till night rose dark above the mountain group.

Before the troops the elephants were led;They blocked the road when darkness overspread.

On either side they set great fires alight,While warriors’ challenges rang through the night.

The world seemed Ahriman, a hostile trap;An enemy lurked in each sleeve and lap.

The tabira struck stone with such a soundThat hearts were torn while pitch-black night lay round.

When dawn rose upward from the somber height,Iran’s sepahbod mounted fresh for fight.

Before the lines he rode and took his stand,Then ordered every wing beneath command.

The right wing rested firm upon a hill,Undaunted where the bravest blood could spill.

The river flowed along the left-hand side;The chief came on with swift steeds in their stride.

The footmen bore long spears; each quiver’s storeHeld shafts to pierce the jowshans that men wore.

With bows upon their arms, they stood in train;The soldiers’ blood boiled hot in every vein.

Behind them, riders bearing khanjars brightRobbed even fire of its living light.

Behind the troops the elephants shook ground;The earth grew weary with their trampling sound.

Full in the center rose the glorious sign,The jeweled standard cast a moonlike shine.

Beneath Kaveh’s standard, broad and high,Blue steel flashed upward toward the darkened sky.

As though through darkness heaven blazed and threwIts stars in showers scattered through the blue.

Like Paradise, the ranks stood fair to see;Faith’s garden bore revenge’s cypress tree.

He gave to Fariborz the army’s right;Behind the troops lay baggage for the fight.

Guraza, chief of Givgan’s line, was known;Zavareh guarded the Kayanian throne.

They took the right, where they had been assigned,Beside Fariborz, ready and aligned.

Gudarz then called Rohham before his face:“O source of wisdom, courage, crown, and grace,

Go with the mounted troops and guard the left,Where by the river ranks must not be cleft.

Like sun in Aries on New Year’s Day,Illuminate the army with your ray.

Hold all the army close beneath your care;Fight like a lion, blue khanjar laid bare.”

Rohham went out, his chosen band arrayed,With Gostaham and Gazhdaham to aid.

And Foruhil, whose arrows pierced the sky,Went with them where the left wing rose on high.

Gudarz then chose ten thousand men to ride,Their horses clad in armor, side by side.

He placed them under Giv’s commanding hand,To guard the rear where fierce young warriors stand.

With Giv rode Gorgin, armed and battle-bent,And Zangeh, Shavaran’s son, with him went.

He sent a banner with three thousand horseTo guard the river-flank with steady force.

Three hundred more were sent with armed commandTo guard the flank that touched the mountain land.

A watchman climbed up to the mountain’s crest,And kept his vigil, never taking rest.

Above the army, head raised high and proud,He kept his watch beneath the drifting cloud.

He searched the road for traces of the foe,If even an ant’s footprint there might show.

Then from that height his warning cry would go;He had to shout and let Gudarz know.

Thus Gudarz set the ranks across the plain,Till sun and moon seemed eager for the strain.

When one fit for command directs the fight,No savage nahang fills the men with fright.

Gudarz himself the army’s center held,And watched each danger as it rose and swelled.

He raised the flag that gladdened every heart,And summoned chiefs to take each central part.

He called the chiefs around him to the core;Behind him stood Shidush, Farhad before.

Hajir stood left, with battle in his sight;The lion-taker Katmareh held the right.

An iron wall enclosed him on the ground;Behind him stood the elephants renowned.

Above Gudarz, who held the central place,The Kaviani standard shaded all that space.

It robbed both sun and moon of all their light;Piran from far beheld that ordered might.

The hills and plains were spears from end to end;Rein wove with rein where all the ranks would blend.

He turned then to survey his own array,But found no room to fight in ordered way.

The chieftain of Turan grew sorely grieved,And cursed the fortune by which he was deceived.

The battlefield displeased his angry eye;He struck his hands together with a cry.

Forced to arrange his ranks as best he might,He formed for battle and prepared to fight.

From his own famous chiefs he chose the menWho longed to take the lead in battle then.

And from the warriors Afrasiab sent,He chose those fierce for vengeance, all intent.

He chose full thirty thousand warriors, tried,All swordsmen fit to fight at brave men’s side.

He gave the center to Houman’s command,With lion-hearted troops on either hand.

Andariman and Awkhast both stood near;He set the wings and made their duties clear.

He set them on the left in ordered line,With thirty thousand men beneath their sign.

Brave Lahhak and bold Farshidvard drew right,With thirty thousand heroes armed for fight.

The earth grew black with iron in their train,As troops were ranked across the dusty plain.

Zangula, Kulbad, Sipahram drew near,All quick to help when battle-cries rang clear.

Ten thousand famous warriors marched behindThe khanjar-bearing horsemen, ranks aligned.

Then brazen-bodied Ruyin led his band,Ten thousand warriors from Khutan’s land.

Within the woodland, like a lion, heLay with his men concealed by bush and tree.

They sent out scouts by riverbank and hill,To thwart Iran’s sepahbod and his will.

If he advanced too far upon the plain,Or moved too boldly with his battle-train,

Then Ruyin, like a lion in attack,Would bring his warriors down upon his back.

A lookout on the mountain kept the day,And counted stars when daylight passed away.

If from afar a rider of Iran boreDown on Turan’s sepahbod, bent on war,

The watchman’s warning cry would rise and spread,And all the field would seethe where warriors tread.

For three long days and nights the armies stayed,All men of name, for battle armed, arrayed.

They stood embattled, face to face and still;No lip betrayed the stirrings of a will.

Gudarz said, “If I yield my post and go,Advancing rashly toward the waiting foe,

They will attack my rear, and I shall gainNo prize but wind and dust across the plain.”

Both night and day before the lines he stood,And searched the heavens for an hour of good.

He thought, “What day has fortune on its side?Whose movement will the favoring heavens guide?

When will the battle-wind raise dust on high,And blind the hostile riders’ watching eye?

Then I may win the upper hand, and thrustThe army onward like a tempest’s gust.”

Piran, meanwhile, stood waiting on his side,Until Gudarz should seethe with wounded pride,

Advance in anger, leave his rear exposed,And fall where hidden troops in wait reposed.

The fourth day, Bijan left the rear to goToward the center, where his wrath would show.

He came before his father, clothes all torn,And flung earth toward the heavens in his scorn:

“Why keep us standing idle, veteran sire?What purpose does this fruitless wait require?

The fifth day comes, and still no move is made;We learn to rest while hours slip by and fade.

The sun has seen no scimitars today,No dust has risen to obscure its ray.

Our riders wear their khaftans, helms drawn tight;Yet no man’s blood has stirred to join the fight.

Once, after Rostam, none in Iran’s landCould match Gudarz or face his fighting hand.

But since the battle fought at Pashan’s field,And all the slaughter that the swords revealed,

Since at Ladan he saw his sons lie slain,And Iran’s fortune overturned in pain,

His heart is wounded; he has lost his way,And cannot bear to see the battle’s fray.

Consider now his age; he lifts his eyes,And turns his head toward the lofty skies.

He counts no longer horsemen for the fight,But stars around the moon from night to night.

Know this: his blood is cold, his strength is gone;He cannot meet the brave when war comes on.

I do not wonder at that chief of old,Whose heart has loosened from the world’s firm hold.

My wonder, father, falls instead on you,From whom fierce lions seek what they must do.

Two armies look to you; awaken wrath,And let your judgment choose the proper path.

The world is warm, the air serene and clear;Yet still the army finds no battle here.

When all this pleasant season passes by,And earth grows hard as steel beneath the sky,

When hands freeze fast upon the hafted spear,With war before us, snow behind our rear,

What warrior then will ride before our force,And call for combat on this frozen course?

If he fears ambush, men of war and hate,And riders lying hidden there in wait,

Give me a thousand horsemen for the fight;Let me select them, tried in warlike might.

I will raise dust where hidden riders lie,And fling their heads above the moon on high.”

Giv smiled to hear brave Bijan speak this way,Then praised his son and turned to God to pray:

“I thank You, Lord, who granted me this son,Who knows the good in all that must be done.

You gave him wisdom, strength, and glory bright;Faith, skill in all things, vengeance in the fight.

This brave young man has taken after me,As every Pahlevan’s own son should be.

The lion told the lioness of old:‘If our cub proves a coward, base and cold,

We will sever love and every bond of birth;His father is the sea, his mother earth.’

Yet, son, restrain your tongue; let no word fallAgainst your grandfather before them all.

He is more wise, experienced, battle-tried,And leads this noble force with care and pride.

The veteran needs no teacher in the art;He reads the field with seasoned eye and heart.

If our own horsemen have so much to bear,The Turks are also burdened with despair.

Their luck has turned; their hearts are torn with pain,And bloody tears from every eye now rain.

This ancient chief would have the Turks first move,And come to battle, there their strength to prove.

Once they have left the mountains far behind,He will advance with all his troops combined.

Then see Gudarz, his gopal in his hand,And how it rolls the battle through the land.

He watches every constellation’s sign,And counts how good and evil stars align.

When that auspicious day at last draws near,He will sweep the earth of foes and leave it clear.”

Then Bijan to his father made reply:“O Pahlevan whose fame has filled the sky,

If that is what our grandfather has planned,We need no Roman jowshan on this land.

I will strip jowshan, helm, and turn to wine,Till withered cheeks grow rosy with its shine.

When I am needed, I shall join the fray,Belted for war, prepared to fight that day.”

From Turan’s ranks brave Houman came in stride,A lion as he reached his brother’s side.

He said, “Afrasiab’s Pahlevan, we waitImpatient on this plain; the hour grows late.

The seventh day has come; each rider hereStands belted, armed for battle with his spear.

Their waists are chafed by jowshans; hearts demandRevenge, their eyes fixed on Iran’s land.

Why hold the forces drawn up face to face?What is your purpose in this waiting place?

Speak now: if you intend to fight, then fight;If you would leave, why linger here in sight?

O Pahlevan, delay will stain your name;And all the world will laugh to see your shame.

These are the men who fled before our might,Disgraced and scattered in their former flight.

Their slain filled all the ground; the whole earth bled,And blood ran everywhere about the dead.

No famed horseman is missing from our band;Nor does great Rostam hold their chief command.

If you have no desire for blood to flow,And will not rouse the troops against the foe,

Choose warriors; place their reins beneath my hand,And watch me wage this war across the land.”

Piran replied, “Restrain your haste and ire;Do not rush headlong into battle’s fire.

Know, brother, that the chief who takes his standBefore us here commands this mighty band.

He is a chief, a Pahlevan of fame,Among Iran’s great nobles first in name.

First, Kay Khosrow stands higher in men’s eyesThan Afrasiab beneath the turning skies.

Next, among Khosrow’s chiefs, both high and low,None equals old Gudarz against the foe.

In dignity, position, manly grace,In prudent counsel, he has foremost place.

Third, his heart is scorched by grief and pain,And anguish for the sons he saw lie slain.

We left them headless, scattered on the ground,And drenched the thirsty dust with blood around.

As long as breath remains within his breast,He writhes, a snake whom vengeance grants no rest.

Fourth, he has massed his army in a valeBetween two peaks that no assault can scale.

Search where you will; no road can reach his line;This is no time to fight; weigh your design.

We must induce the foe to leave that height,And quit the ground that guards them in the fight.

Perhaps fatigue will make their caution slack,And they will move to lead the first attack.

Then, when the foe has left that vantage-ground,We shall rain arrows thickly all around.

We shall surround them like a closing wall,Like raging lions, seize them one and all.

Then all we wish against them shall be done,And our renown shall rise to reach the sun.

You lead the king’s troops; you sustain his might;Your crown has passed the heavens in its height.

Who has no need of further fame to show,Why should he follow greed where it may go?

Besides, no famed warrior will come nearThe roaring leopard waiting for him here.

Gudarz will choose a man of lesser name,More restless for the fight and battle-fame.

He will send that rider out to face your might;If you should strike him down and win the fight,

No greater fame will gather round your head,Nor will Iran be harmed when he lies dead.

But if he sheds your blood upon the plain,The Turkish side will fall to fear and pain.”

Houman heard all Piran had said that day,And thought his argument was thrown away.

He answered, “Of Iran, no horseman hereCan meet me in the battle, spear to spear.

Your nature turns to kindness and to peace;My own desire is battle without cease.

You have no will for vengeance in this fight;Within your heart no battle-fires burn bright.

I will saddle my gray horse and take my way,To seek revenge at dawn’s first rising ray.”

When Houman reached his camp, his heart was sore;He ground his teeth like a raging boar.

At dawn he mounted, like a lion grim,And took an interpreter along with him.

He rode toward Iran, battle in his breast,His mind by hatred for the Shah possessed.

When Piran learned his brother sought the fight,The world grew narrow to his troubled sight.

His heart burned with concern; in that despair,He recalled his father’s words of thoughtful care:

“The wise deliberate in every case,And do not rush to battle and disgrace.

The fool shows dash and spirit at the start,But grief awaits the ending of his part.

Though from a fool’s tongue pearls of speech may fall,No profit comes when folly masters all.”

“I do not know,” he said, “what Houman gainsBy riding wrathful over hostile plains.

May God, the Judge of all, be at his side;I see no other helper, friend, or guide.”

Houman sought Gudarz, Keshvad’s son, that day;The army’s watchmen met him on his way.

Iran’s suspicious riders gathered nearAnd asked his spokesman to make all things clear:

“Why does this eager warrior show his faceSo boldly here before our guarded place?

Where does he speed, as messengers might ride,With gorz in hand and kamand at his side?”

The interpreter said, “The hour is hereFor sword and heavy gorz; this chief draws near.

He seeks a champion in the open fight;He is Houman, Viseh’s son, a man of might.

He leads the sons of Viseh to the field;Before his blade a lion’s heart must yield.”

They saw his gorz, his stature, and the graceWith which he wore the royal belt in place.

His noble bearing held their ranks in awe;Their spear-hands paused before the grace they saw.

They turned toward the man who spoke for him,And sent this answer to the warrior grim:

“Go speak in Turkish; faithfully conveyEach word to Houman, all that we shall say:

‘We have no leave to meet you in the fight;Gudarz has not yet granted us that right.

But if you seek the captain of our side,The road lies open; onward you may ride.’”

They named each chief who led the troops, and toldWhat place within the ranks each one would hold.

They told him where the foremost leaders lay,Who held the left and right in armed display.

The outpost sent a hiyun rider fastTo old Gudarz with news of what had passed:

“Houman comes like a leopard from his line,To challenge you before your battle-sign.”

Houman passed by the outpost in his pride,And hastened toward Rohham on Iran’s side.

He shouted, “Son of that sepahbod brightWith wakeful fortune, come before my sight.

You hold the left, the Lion’s Claw are you,And guard Iran’s sepahbod, firm and true.

Give rein and meet me on this battleground;Between the ordered lines let strife be found.

You ought to fight me; choose the open plainOr riverbank, and there draw tight your rein.

Or Gostaham and Foruhil, the pair,May charge me both together, if they dare.

Who fights me now with gorz or sword or spear?Let any warrior of your ranks appear.

Whoever comes before me on this ground,Fate rolls the earth above him like a mound.

My sword, when seen in battle, tears apartThe leopard’s hide and rends the lion’s heart.”

Rohham replied to Houman’s battle-cry:“O famed warrior, hear me in reply.

I thought you wise; now drink has led astrayYour mind, to make you venture out this way.

You came alone upon this field of fight,And boldly faced the army in its might.

You think no swordsman and no horseman’s spearCan stand against your stroke or meet you here.

Recall the saying from Kayanian throne;Let wisdom guard the life that is your own:

‘Whoever first advances to attackMust look ahead and find his pathway back.’

All those you named have sharpened claws to fight,And long to face your challenge in their might.

Yet none prepares for battle on this plainWithout the chief’s command to loose his rein.

If fighting with our champions is your aim,Go to the Pahlevan and make your claim.

Ask old Gudarz for leave to start the fray;Then call on us to meet you in the way.”

Then Houman answered, “Talk is of no use,Nor offer me, upon this field, excuse.

Choose men to fight me in this war’s campaign;You are no horseman fit to take the rein.”

From Rohham, Houman crossed the central ground,Then toward the other wing his charger wound.

With his interpreter, he stormed along,A raging elephant, fierce-limbed and strong.

He reached brave Fariborz and raised his cry:“You wretch, who bow where other chiefs stand high!

Once horsemen, elephants, and shoes of goldWere yours, with Kaveh’s standard to uphold.

You gave them to the Turks before our men;Iran’s chiefs will not call you man again.

A chief who falls beneath another’s handMust gird himself to serve at his command.

Siavash was your brother; yours by birthA rank above your chief in royal worth.

From Tur, the king of Turan, springs my race;In birth perchance I hold the higher place.

Come out with me upon the battlefield,And wheel our steeds before each watching shield.

You are the man whom vengeance should inflame;Arm for revenge, as fits your brother’s name.

Your fame will rise in splendor like the sun,If you step forth, that glory shall be won.

If not, then let Zavareh take your place,Or brave Guraza meet me face to face.

Bring forth a chief of Iran known by name,Whose sword can answer my defiant claim.”

Then Fariborz replied, “Restrain your spite;O rending lion, do not seek this fight.

One man departs the battlefield with fame;Another meets destruction, grief, and shame.

When victory comes, still fear the turn of fate;The heavens never hold one lasting state.

Through stubborn wrath, men let their anger grow,And lay their ancient households in ruin low.

The Shah could take my standard; his the rightTo grant whom he chose troops and elephants’ might.

Since Kay Qobad, each king who wore the crownArmed for Kayanian vengeance and renown,

Or made the world prosper beneath his hand,Gave Gudarz, Keshvad’s son, the chief command.

Avengers for the Kayanians in fight,His fathers served the crown with proven might.

His mighty gorz will lay your leader low,And bring his days to ending with its blow.

The army fights when he declares it must;Its honor and disgrace he holds in trust.

If he commands, I shall encounter you,And heal my wounded heart with vengeance due.

Then you shall see me raise my head from shame,When I step forth to fight and clear my name.”

Houman replied, “Enough! Your words flow free;Your skill at speaking is quite plain to me.

That sword is at your waist; why stand asideWhen other horsemen into battle ride?

Would you wage war with that gorz, crude of make,Too weak for helm or jowshan here to break?”

From Fariborz, Houman turned away,Like a malignant Div intent to slay.

Still bent on vengeance against Iran’s band,He came before Gudarz and made his stand.

He shouted, “Binder of the Div, give ear;Now hear the charge that Houman brings you here.

I heard your counsel in the royal hall,And how you led the Shah’s men, one and all.

I heard of all his gifts and your command,Your terms to Piran, chief of Turan’s land.

Your envoy reached the ranks of old Piran;Your son, the warrior Giv, a Pahlevan.

And afterward you swore by royal light,By sun and moon, by throne and crown in sight:

‘If ever I behold Piran in strife,I shall cut short the measure of his life.’

Fierce as a lion you have ranked your powers,And thirsted for the fight through waiting hours.

Then why crouch back behind that mountain chain,Like timid mountain sheep that fear the plain?

So does the hunted quarry flee in fright,Before the lion’s overwhelming might.

It seeks a narrow woodland hiding-place,And fears for life, forgetting all disgrace.

Lead forth your battle-lines into the field;Why keep your men behind the heights concealed?

Was this your understanding with Khosrow:To make a hill your stronghold from the foe?”

Gudarz replied, “Consider what you say:Are these fit words to speak to me today?

When you receive your answer from us here,The folly of your charge will then be clear.

Know that I acted at the Shah’s command;My oath and pledge were what his will had planned.

But now I stand with Iran’s chosen force,With chiefs whose courage guides the army’s course.

You hide like some old fox among the trees,That quakes whenever it the hunter sees.

You practice cunning, artifice, and guile,To flee from gorz, spear, kamand all the while.

Do not boast here or challenge us in scorn,For foxes cannot stand where lions are born.”

When Houman heard what old Gudarz replied,He raged like a lion on the other side.

He answered, “You refuse to face my might,But not because you deem it shame to fight.

Since Pashan’s field and that disastrous day,You shun the men of Turan in the fray.

You praised me once at Ladan on the field,And knew the strength my sword and arm could wield.

So if the truth is even as you say,And you would make your words come true today,

Choose from your troops some champion of name,To counter me upon the field of fame.

Like a fierce nahang, I called out to fightBoth Rohham and Fariborz in their might.

I passed along before your ranks in pride,And not one warrior stirred from either side.

They said Gudarz forbade them from the fray;Their empty boasts were all they gave today.

But you are he who said, ‘My khanjar’s mightWill raise red tulips on the yellow height.’

Now you yourself, your heavy gorz held high,Must meet me here before the army’s eye.

You have brave sons renowned throughout the land,And each is armed and waiting your command.

Set one of them against me if you dare;Why this delay if war is what you swear?”

Gudarz considered, “Which among my menShould go to face this challenger, and when?

If I send out some famous chief today,Some raging lion eager for the fray,

And Houman falls beneath that warrior’s hand,No Turkish chief will leave his guarded stand.

Piran will writhe with anguish in his heart,And hold his gathered army back, apart.

His troops will seek Mount Kanabad again;Then disadvantage will attend our men.

Yet if one noble of my chiefs is slain,My fame will suffer and my men feel pain.

Despair would break the hearts of all my band,And none would have the will to take a stand.

Best not engage; best foil the ambush-snare,Until their restless troops forsake their lair.

At last they may advance to battle’s plain,And leave the narrow ground where they remain.”

Then to Houman he said, “Now take your way;Fierce in your words, not tested in the fray.

Your speech has shown your nature through and through;Your hidden mind lies open now to view.

No Turk possesses wisdom in his breastTo find within his thoughts a place of rest.

Do you not know a lion will disdainTo stain its claws with fox-blood on the plain?

Besides, both armies stand in battle-pride,Their swift steeds holding heads high, side by side.

Every chief would gnaw his hands in shame,If two alone were sent to win the name.

Let all advance; let side with side contend,And let the field be opened end to end.

Go back now to your line and lift your head;Before your own sepahbod boast instead:

‘I challenged all the warriors in their line,But cold wind was the only answer mine.’

Your boasting here will raise your battle-name,And Piran grant the wishes that you claim.”

Houman exclaimed, “What chieftains then are these?What warriors, hiding under cautious pleas?

I now recall the saying of a king,Who knew the turns that worldly fortunes bring:

‘Seek not the Kayanian throne; but if desireShould lead you there, do not turn back from fire.’

You do not wish for war; this truth is sworn:The path to pluck a rose is lined with thorn.

You have no lion-hearted chief in sightTo meet me here before the troops in fight.

You seek through guile to send me from the fray;I know your tricks and will not be their prey.”

The warlike chiefs then told Gudarz their view:“Accept his challenge: this we urge on you.

Send one of us to face him on the plain,To meet his challenge and avenge this stain.”

Gudarz replied, “Today no man shall goTo fight this battle with the waiting foe.”

Then Houman turned away, his anger high,And raged like a brave lion standing by.

He laughed, turned from the chief, and spurred his steedToward the army’s guards with reckless speed.

Within the meadow, Houman strung his bow,And shot four riders from their saddles low.

The guards who saw his shots from far awayBeheld the proud Turanian’s deadly play.

They gave him passage, fled across the plain,And would not face him or draw tight the rein.

He climbed the heights as if with wine possessed,And roared as though to level every crest.

He whirled his spear above his head to say,“Houman, son of Viseh, wins the day!”

The brazen ney resounded from below,As on the height his spear swung to and fro.

Turan’s bold warriors, joyful at the sight,Seemed with their helms to touch the moon’s great height.

When Houman came away with such proud scorn,Gudarz was wrung by what his men had borne.

The chief grew dark with shame at what had passed;Wrath and fierce anger held his spirit fast.

Shame drew the sweat from warriors standing near;Gudarz then read the stars to make things clear.

The foe had struck the first blow on the plain;That blood foretold disaster in their train.

Then he surveyed the champions in his band,To see who would face Houman, hand to hand.

Bijan was told, “Houman crossed the field,And came where old Gudarz stood armed and steeled.

He challenged chiefs upon the left and right;Not one rode out to meet him in the fight.

No champion came; he turned away in ire,His heart still burning with the battle’s fire.

He struck four riders from their steeds to dust,And left them fallen beneath his deadly thrust.”

At this report, Bijan with fury stirred;His leopard-claws grew sharper at each word.

He bade them saddle his great warlike steed,Huge as an elephant, well tried in deed.

He donned his Roman jowshan, armed to fight,And drew the girth around his Shabrang tight.

Then, full of plans, before his father’s face,He spoke of old Gudarz and his disgrace.

“Did I not speak the truth,” he asked, “that day?My father, these are words you heard me say:

‘Gudarz’s mind grows feeble, dim, and slow;Can you not see the shadow on it grow?

Fear fills his heart; his liver burns with pain;He grieves for all the sons he saw lie slain.

His many sons were slain and lost their heads,Their bodies scattered where the red dust spreads.’

As proof, a Turk came boldly through our band,Like a fierce lion, spear held in his hand.

He went before Gudarz and raised his cry,A drunken elephant that none would try.

Among Iran’s renowned and mighty train,It seemed no horseman dared to take the plain.

Not one would spear him, hoist him up to sitLike a bird skewered on a roasting spit.

Now clothe my shoulders, prudent sire, I pray,In Siavash’s armor for the fray.

For I alone must meet him where we ride,And grind to dust his manhood and his pride.”

Giv said, “My son, let judgment guide you here;Attend to all my words with careful ear.

I warned you once: be measured in your speech,Nor let harsh words against old Gudarz reach.

He has experience, wisdom, and command,And leads the nobles of Iran’s broad land.

Before him stand our warriors, trained to fight,Who could tear elephants apart in might.

Do not torment my heart with grief and dread;Has youth so utterly confused your head?

You lift your head and hurry here to pleadFor leave to fight and satisfy your need.

I do not share this purpose you pursue;Speak of this plan no more before my view.”

Bijan replied, “If you will not agree,Then fame is not a thing you wish for me.

I shall go armed before the sepahbod’s face,And strike my breast to plead the warrior’s case.”

He wheeled his horse and hurried on his way,To reach Gudarz and speak without delay.

He came with praise and anguish in his tone,And told the whole account before his throne:

“O Pahlevan who guards the Shah’s great name,Who knows all things and crowns the throne with fame,

I marvel at the course that you pursue,Though little wisdom grants me such a view.

You make a garden of this field of fight,And cease to seek revenge on Turan’s might.

Tell me why here, where armies stand arrayed,We rest in idleness, the fight delayed.

No warrior’s sword has flashed before the sun;No breath of warmth across a gorz has run.

Give word, and I shall seek the battle’s heat;Whom shall I bind where these close armies meet?

More strange: a luckless Turk has lost his way,And wandered from the army’s great array.

God, giver of all good, devised his fall,And brought this evil man before us all.

He led him from Turan’s assembled band,So he might meet destruction at your hand.

You freed the wolf that stumbled in your snare;What purpose made you choose his life to spare?

You think that if we spill his blood in fight,Piran will keep his army from our sight.

Do not suppose he first will leave his placeAnd move his army to the open space.

Behold, my hands are bathed in blood; I standPrepared to fight with Houman, hand to hand.

If you permit me, I shall take the field,A roaring lion, with no thought to yield.

Now order Giv to give me in your sightThe arms of Siavash for this fight.

Let Giv bring helm and jowshan, Roman-made,Unbind their knots; let my plea be obeyed.”

When old Gudarz heard Bijan’s words, he knewThe courage and the wisdom in his view.

He blessed him, full of joy, and thus would pray:“May fortune never turn from you away.

Since first you took the leopard saddle’s height,Nahangs fell still; the lions ceased to fight.

You never rest; you lead in every field,And seek adventure, forcing foes to yield.

Consider if your strength can bear the fray;Then challenge him, if you can stand that day.

For Houman’s heart is evil, steeped in guile;Like Ahriman, he fights with purpose vile.

You are still young; few years have crossed your head,Yet you would risk your life among the dead.

Let me send forth a lion, battle-tried,Who, like a cloud, will thunder to his side.

His arrows, thick as hail, shall strike and pinThe steel of Houman’s helmet to his skin.”

Bijan replied, “A gallant youth should showHis native worth and let his valor grow.

If you once saw my fight when Forood fell,Then test my fame today; this field will tell.

I churned the earth when Pashan’s battle burned;No man has seen my back when war has turned.

I am unfit for life if I should standBelow the other warriors of this land.

Now if you still deny me and command,‘Do not oppose your arm to Houman’s hand,’

I will tell the Shah how you have held me down,Then cast aside my belt and warrior’s crown.”

Gudarz laughed gladly at the youth’s reply,And seemed a noble cypress rising high.

He answered, “Giv is fortunate to breedA son so brave, of such heroic seed.

May I not forget that blessed hour of birth,When your pure mother brought you forth to earth.

Since first you raised your hands with lion might,The leopards have sheathed their claws and fled your sight.

You may meet Houman; may good fortune guideYour heart and hand when you confront his pride.

In God’s great name, who guards us every hour,And by our Shah’s and heroes’ conquering power,

Strive so this Ahriman, by God’s command,May meet his destined death beneath your hand.

I shall tell Giv: ‘Give Bijan at his callThe armor he has asked for, helm and all.’

If you shall crush this foe upon the field,Still greater honor in my eyes you will wield.

Above brave Farhad and your sire you will stand,With treasure, throne, and crown, and troops in hand.”

Thus spoke the grandfather; the youth stood near,Resourceful, full of plans, his judgment clear.

Bijan dismounted, kissed the ground in praise,And blessed the Pahlevan for happy days.

Then old Gudarz called Giv before his gaze,And spoke about the youth and his bold ways.

They spoke about the youth and his desireTo fight in Siavash’s royal attire.

Giv said, “O chief, this son is all to me;My life, my mind, my world; no trifle he.

I cannot part from him or send him whereThe dragon’s burning breath would scorch the air.”

“Fond father,” old Gudarz replied, “be still;Do not torment your soul with thoughts of ill.

Though Bijan is still young, in all his deedsHis wisdom goes before him as he leads.

Besides, this is the place to take our due,And wash the world with blood for vengeance true.

For Siavash, as royal orders run,We cannot spare our own, not even one.

Though clouds rain gorzes down and swords descend,We cannot hold our lives too dear to spend.

Do not break Bijan’s heart or curb his claim;Clothe him in honor, mindful of his name.

For when a youth lets idleness take hold,His spirit darkens and his heart grows cold.”

Giv found no answer, no remaining way;Once more he tried to counsel him to stay.

To turn his son from combat’s fierce acclaim,He said, “You turn your honor into shame!”

He told Gudarz, “O chief, where warriors strive,And struggle in the hope to stay alive,

No son, no treasure, troops, or king’s decree,Nor reverence for a chief, means much to me.

My days are hard enough with strife and pain;Why should I give my life upon this plain?

If he seeks war, where is his battle gear?He has his jowshan; why ask for mine here?”

Then Bijan answered in his father’s sight,“I have no need of your jowshan to fight.

Do you suppose all warriors must be dressedIn your own jowshan, to put skill to test?

Without Siavash’s jowshan, must fameBe lost to chiefs who strive to guard their name?”

Then Bijan spurred his horse and left the train,To reach the field of combat on the plain.

When Bijan vanished from the gathered field,Giv’s heart broke open; grief would not be sealed.

Repenting, he shed bloody tears in pain;See what a son may make the heart sustain.

He raised his head to heaven, bowed by grief;His bleeding heart could find no sweet relief.

“O Judge of all the world, behold my heart;Look on the wounds that tear my life apart.

Do not let Bijan’s loss consume my soul;My tears have mired my feet; now make me whole.

Restore my Bijan, Maker, hear my plea;Turn evil fortune from his life for me.”

In sorrow for his son, he onward went,His heart consumed by grief and discontent.

He thought, “I hurt him needlessly today;Why did I keep the arms he sought away?

If Houman harms him, what use shall I seeIn jowshan, sword, and girdle left to me?

I shall be left with longing, grief, and pain,My heart in anguish, tears that fall like rain.”

Like dust he sped until he reached his son,His heart weighed down by grief for what was done.

He said, “Why bring such anguish to us here?Why hurry when you ought to pause, my dear?

The black snake hisses, bold with battle-pride,Until a nahang rises from the tide.

The moon may shine with all its borrowed lightWhile still the sun stays hidden from our sight.

You rush on Houman, turning from my word,And close your ears to counsel you have heard.

You choose to follow only your own will,Not knowing whether good awaits or ill.”

Bijan replied, “Do not turn back my heartFrom Siavash’s vengeance and my part.

Houman is not of brass or iron made,No elephant, and no Div with a blade.

He is a man of war; I shall prepareTo meet him; with your fortune, why despair?

My fate may still be written otherwiseThan I desire; the Judge of all is wise.

Since what must be, will be, do not grieve now,Nor let care draw its shadow on your brow.”

Giv heard his son, prepared for coming strife,A lion-hearted youth who risked his life.

He dismounted, gave him shield and steed,Siavash’s jowshan, for battle’s need.

He said, “If you are bent on fight today,And stubborn will has driven thought away,

Mount this swift charger, which will roll the groundBeneath your feet when battle gathers round.

That jowshan shields your body in the fight,Since you must face an Ahriman of might.”

When Bijan saw his father’s steed brought near,He sprang down from his own to meet it here.

He mounted on the royal horse to ride,Then bound his girdle, slung his gorz beside.

He sought among the troops a man who knewThe Turkish tongue, and spoke its meaning true.

Then like a mighty lion he rode on,To take revenge for Siavash, now gone.

When Bijan reached fierce Houman on the plain,He saw an iron mountain clad in chain.

The desert glittered with his jowshan bright;An elephant beneath it stood in might.

He bade the interpreter loudly say:“Draw rein if battle brings you here today.

Bijan stands ready now to meet your blows;Now choose the ground on which the two will close.

Why urge your horse across this meadow’s grass,O seasoned warrior, where the armies mass?

From Afrasiab, harm shall fall on you;Turan’s whole land should curse the deeds you do.

You laid the ground for vengeance through your crime;No Turk bears greater guilt in all our time.

I look to God for aid and give Him praiseFor bringing you before me in these days.

Draw rein upon that charger’s headlong course;Your blood boils hot with vengeance’s driving force.

Choose any place where we may wheel and fight;Desert, dale, mountain, or the armies’ sight.

Or choose the ground between the battle-lines,Where friend and foe may judge the day’s designs.

There friend and foe alike may see the test;Now choose the ground that you consider best.”

Houman laughed loudly, answering him then:“O luckless one, ill-starred among all men!

You trust your body’s strength to save your head;Perhaps your heart longs for your death instead.

I will send you back in such a broken stateThat Giv shall burn with grief to see your fate.

Soon I shall sever your head from your frame,As with your gallant kin, in death and shame.

Within my claws, a pheasant, you shall lie,Seized by a hawk on cypress branches high.

You shall cry out as bloody teardrops flow;The hawk drips blood, bent like a curving bow.

But what use now? The night is drawing near;Take refuge in its darkness, free from fear.

I shall return to camp, then take my standAt dawn before the chief who holds command.

Then I shall come with head held high to fight,Prepared to meet you and to test your might.”

“Go then,” said Bijan. “May a ditch be nearBehind, and Ahriman before your spear.

May all our enemies lie dead in pain,Or flee the battle, scattered on the plain.

Tomorrow, if you come to fight, your menAnd king shall never see your face again.

Your head and feet shall lie so far apart,No thought of troops will stir within your heart.”

They wheeled away and left the field that night,Abandoning the ground reserved for fight.

They each returned where their own army lay,And met the captains whom the troops obey.

All night their sleep was troubled, full of dread;Their restless hearts burned for the fight ahead.

When morning breathed above the mountain height,And dark night’s skirt withdrew before the light,

Houman put on his armor for the fray,And told Piran what passed the previous day:

“I challenged Bijan, Giv’s own son, to fight,And made my preparations through the night.”

He called his interpreter from the array,And mounted him upon his wind-swift bay.

“Go, tell Bijan to hurry here,” he spoke,“Or I shall come upon him like thick smoke.”

The envoy turned and said, “May wisdom stayBeside your noble soul and guide your way.”

Then Houman came like dust to seek the fray,And fight with Bijan on the plain that day.

Bijan came then also, set to meet his foe,His interpreter with him, ready to go.

He tightened Shabrang’s girth for the fight,And came like a fierce leopard in his might.

His royal casque shone bright upon his head;Across his breast his knotted jowshan spread.

He said, “You reckless fool, last night your lifeWas spared; you left the field and quit the strife.

Today I hope this sword within my handWill part your head and body on the sand.

Your blood shall make flowers blossom from the clay;Take now to heart the tale that I shall say.

A mountain ram once told the deer one day:‘Though silk should clothe that plain in rich array,

I will not tread that ground, though dressed so fair,Where once my foot was caught within a snare.’”

Houman replied, “Today bold Giv shall break,And grieve his son for this mad battle’s sake.

Will you contend with me at Kanabad,Or choose the distant field beside Raibad?

So none can hear our cries or bring us aid,No man of Iran or Turan with blade.”

Bijan replied, “Why talk? Fight where you will;Choose where to turn, and let our words be still.”

They spurred their horses; dust rose from the ground,Their bows already strung for battle’s round.

Their heads rose toward the moon, their wrath ran high;For royal vengeance, each would kill or die.

They rode from Kanabad and left the height,Their faces toward the plain, prepared to fight.

They reached a desert where no footprints showed,No trace of any man upon their road.

No vultures crossed the empty sky ahead;No lion’s tracks marked where their chargers sped.

No comrade from the armies could they see,No helper near to hear what cries might be.

They made a pact: whoever won the dayWould let the interpreters go on their way.

Whichever warrior should survive the fightWould hold no grudge against them for his plight,

So they might tell the king both good and ill,And how the turns of fortune worked their will:

What deeds were done, what fighting each had shown,What anguish on that field of blood was known.

This done, they both dismounted, jowshans laced,And knotted fast each strap about the waist.

With girths drawn hard as stone, they sat astride,Their saddles firm, and vengeance burned inside.

They took their bows and rode in fierce array,Into the narrow field to start the fray.

They bent their bows until the bowstrings strained,And steel-tipped khadang shafts between them rained.

When they had shot their arrows in the fight,They took their spears and charged with all their might.

They wheeled their horses, swerving left and right,And thrust their spears with tempered spearheads bright.

Their jowshans tore to fragments in the fray;See whose good fortune turns from him today.

Their mouths hung open, parched with thirst and pain;They longed for rest and water on the plain.

They paused and drew their breath, those fighting men,And cooled the fire before they fought again.

Then shields were raised and scimitars shone bright;The cries of Doomsday thundered through the fight.

Like lightning flashing from a cloud on high,Their helms and swords sent fire across the sky.

No iron could withstand the tempered steel,Or bear the blows those mighty hands could deal.

Their blades fell from their hands like flames of fire,As both fought on, their fury still entire.

Each hero failed to shed the other’s blood,Yet both hearts still burned on like fire and flood.

They took up gorzes, struck with all their might,And passed all bounds of fury in the fight.

Then both agreed to put their strength to test,And prove whose arm was mightiest and best.

Each sought to win the honor of the deed:To drag his rival from the lofty steed.

Whoever gripped the belt with greater strengthWould fling his rival down, disgraced, full length.

The stirrup-leathers snapped beneath the strain,So fiercely did they grapple on the plain.

Yet neither lost his seat, for all their force;No man could throw the other from his horse.

Then both dismounted from their weary steeds,And rested briefly from their violent deeds.

The two interpreters held both steeds still;Like lions in their rage, they breathed their fill.

Then, though exhausted, both renewed the war,And braced themselves to wrestle, strained and sore.

From dawn until the sun spread shade below,They fought in fear and hope against the foe.

No man turned back, no warrior yielded ground;Each sought the fight, by vengeance firmly bound.

Their mouths grew parched; their bodies streamed with sweat,Beneath the sun, with toil and heat beset.

Then, by consent, they left the place of strife,And sought the water that sustains all life.

Bijan drank water, rose, and in his painRemembered God, from whom all good we gain.

In pain he shook like willow in the gale;His hope of life grew faint, his strength grown frail.

He said, “O Maker, You know all I hide,And all that stands revealed on every side.

If You find justice in this fight we wage,And in the vengeance that has stirred our rage,

Do not withdraw my strength from me today;Keep my mind clear and watchful through the fray.”

Houman, crow-dark, his face like smoky night,Advanced, worn down, to meet the coming fight.

Both men were weary, yet came on with force,Like leopards wheeling back upon their course.

They strained against each other, round by round;Each, in his turn, was brought to brush the ground.

They strained with strength and every wrestler’s art,Till heaven’s hidden craft revealed its part.

Though Houman was the stronger of the two,When fortune turns, what can mere strength then do?

With leopard strength, Bijan held his man, braced,And reached from head to grip him round the waist.

His left hand gripped the neck, his right the thigh;He bent that camel’s back and heaved him high.

He dashed him down and laid his rival low,Then drew his khanjar, swift as winds that blow.

He drove the khanjar in and sheared the head,Then cast him like a dragon, lifeless, dead.

The mighty body rolled upon the plain;Its blood poured out in streams across the terrain.

Bijan beheld that mighty bulk lie prone,Like some straight cypress felled and overthrown.

Amazed, he turned his face toward the height,And praised Yazdan who governs day and night.

“O Ruler, set beyond all place and time,Above the turning heavens’ bounds sublime,

You alone command the world here below;No wisdom can deny that this is so.

I claim no share of prowess in this deed,No heart to face that elephant at need.

I struck for Siavash, whose blood cried long,And for my father’s brothers, seventy strong.

May Houman’s spirit serve my own at will,His body feed the lions on the hill.”

To Shabrang’s saddle-straps he bound the head,And left the trunk upon its dusty bed.

His armor lay unfastened, belt untied;His head and trunk lay sundered, cast aside.

The world is all deception, through and through;In hardship, it will bring no help to you.

So let no trusting heart upon it lean,For what it does belies what we have seen.

When Houman, son of Viseh, breathed his last,The two interpreters came running fast.

They bowed as Brahmans bow before the shrineOf Chin’s great idol, held to be divine.

Then Bijan scanned the field and saw no wayExcept through Turan’s army in array.

He feared that murderous multitude would rise,When Houman’s fall appeared before their eyes.

They might pour forth like mountains to the fight;Alone, he could not match their gathered might.

He stripped Siavash’s jowshan from his frame,And wore Houman’s khaftan to conceal his name.

He mounted Houman’s great charger, light-gray,And bore the fallen chieftain’s flag away.

He blessed his wakeful fortune and the ground,The field where such good tiding had been found.

When Houman’s own interpreter drew near,And saw his master slain, he shook with fear.

Then Bijan freed him, and his fear allayed:“Fear nothing. I will keep the pledge I made.

Go tell your army what your eyes have known,And say what deeds this battlefield has shown.”

The man departed; Bijan bent his bow,Then rode where Mount Kanabad’s foothills show.

When Turkish watchmen saw, against the sky,Their prince’s signs and sable banner fly,

They rose and cheered to see that welcome sight,And filled the watch-post with their loud delight.

They sent a hiyun rider off like smoke,To tell Piran what sudden hopes awoke.

“Houman returns victorious from the fray;The king’s good fortune crowned his deeds today.

The Iranian flag is overturned,” he said,“Their champion lies in dust and blood, struck dead.”

The camp cried out; their leader strained his earTo catch Houman’s swift hoofbeats drawing near.

What joy is there that brings no grief or woe?Its fire rains hail upon the helms below.

Now Bijan reached the shelter of his side,Where Iran’s royal power could guard his ride.

The interpreter returned and told the fight,Relating all that passed before his sight.

The tidings reached Piran and struck him low;His royal splendor darkened at the blow.

A cry from Turan’s army rent the air;The warriors tore their helms off in despair.

The world grew dark beneath that weight of grief;Their frantic words could bring them no relief.

The lion-hearted victor, battle-tried,Reversed the sable banner at his side.

Iranian watchmen saw the flag reversed,And knew their champion as their glad cries burst.

They turned toward the chief and raised a cry,Till news of triumph rang beneath the sky.

They sent a hiyun rider with swift paceTo bring Gudarz the triumph of his race:

“Bijan returns in triumph from the fight,And bears the sable flag reversed in sight.”

Giv wandered like a man by grief destroyed,Still crying out for news, his hopes made void.

He sought his son with every anxious breath,And in joy’s hour still mourned as though for death.

Then tidings came of Bijan’s victory;Giv rushed to where his living son would be.

He saw his son; at once, his spirit stirred,He left his saddle like a swooping bird.

He rolled in dust and bowed his head in praiseTo God, the righteous Judge of all our days.

He clasped his wise and valiant son and heldHim close, the terror of the day dispelled.

All sought Gudarz with praise that never ceased,As Bijan came through war, from death released.

When Bijan saw his grandfather appear,He left the horse of Houman, that brave peer.

His arms were bloody, dust lay on his head;The saddle bore the head of Houman, dead.

He brought the armor, steed, and head to showGudarz the tokens of his fallen foe.

Gudarz rejoiced as though his soul would spillBeyond his breast, and all the world would fill.

He praised the Judge of all for fortune’s sign,And blessed the star that made that fortune shine.

He called his treasurer to bring a crown,And royal robes befitting such renown.

The robe was jewel-woven, gold its ground;Like sunlight shone the crown and belt around.

Ten steeds with golden bridles came in line,Ten handsome servants, gold belts gleaming fine.

He gave them, saying, “Since great Sahm, no peerHas brought a dragon low as you did here.

You freed our army’s hand and cleared its way,And broke the Turkish monarch’s heart today.

Our army now, like lions in their pride,Roars as their swift steeds bear them on their ride.”

Across the field, Piran, in grief and wrath,With tear-filled eyes, looked down destruction’s path.

Piran sent word to Nastihan, whose mightWas famed for bringing aid in desperate fight:

“Prepare at once; do not delay or pause,But rise tonight for blood and brother’s cause.

Attack Iran by night with sudden roar,And make the earth a Jihun filled with gore.

Lead forth ten thousand horsemen, proved through years,All armed for war with lances, blades, and spears.

Avenge Houman; bring vengeance on their head,And strike the enemies who laid him dead.”

Then Nastihan replied: “I shall obey;The earth shall run like Jihun in the fray.”

Two-thirds of night had passed when on the plainThe ground shook hard beneath the horsemen’s train.

The Turks rode out, resolved to raise their nameBy night assault and win a warrior’s fame.

As Nastihan led on his vengeful band,He neared the troops that guarded Iran’s land.

At dawn his marching force appeared in sight;The watchman saw him from his lookout height.

The scouts sped lightly toward Gudarz and cried:“A force approaches like a silent tide.

Like running water, on they flow and go,With not a voice to tell us of the foe.

They seem like men whose tongues refuse to speak;A night assault is what these horsemen seek.

You know, sepahbod, how men strike by night;You know the manner of this sudden fight.”

Then Gudarz gave his army orders clear:“Stay wide awake; be keen of mind and ear.

Give ear to every sound that they may make,Till signs reveal the course their troops will take.”

Then Gudarz called young Bijan to his side,With troops whose swords in battle had been tried.

He said: “Success and fortune are your own;The hearts of foes break when your name is known.

Take whom you need from all these chiefs of mine,These famous warriors of my proven line.

Receive their charge as lions meet their prey,And bring their army down in this affray.”

Bijan chose out a thousand horsemen, boldIn battle, men whom fear could never hold.

The two sides met, prepared for bitter fight,Their hearts intent on vengeance in their might.

They raised their gorzes; from the darkened groundA cloud of dust rose up and spread around.

That dust completely obscured the night skies;Its shadow poured across the Turkish eyes.

When Bijan saw their ranks concealed in cloud,He called his men and gave command aloud:

“String bows at once.” The din of battle rose,As every warrior cried against their foes.

The air turned rust-dark; blood engulfed the plain,A sea of crimson spread among the slain.

Two-thirds of Turan’s troops lay dead in blood,Beneath the horses’ feet, trod into mud.

He caught up with Nastihan; overhead,Above his spear, the flag of Viseh spread.

An arrow flew from Bijan’s mighty bow,And struck the steed beneath his armored foe.

The wounded horse collapsed in bitter pain;Then Bijan reached his foe upon the plain.

His gorz struck hard upon the helmeted head,And crushed his brain; there Nastihan lay dead.

Then Bijan cried: “Let all who gird for fightTake sword and gorz to show their warrior might.

Who takes a bow shall rue it; I will wrestThat bow from him and break it on his crest.

Though Turkish faces shine with fairy grace,They lack the skill to meet us face to face.”

His warriors gathered courage from that breath,And drew their flashing steel to harvest death.

Like fallen elephants, across the groundLay mighty bodies, severed heads around.

The rest fled toward their army’s rear in fear,While Iranians pressed with blade and level spear.

Piran saw Nastihan had not come back;The world grew dark, and grief came on his track.

He told the scouts: “Send a hiyun rider nearIran’s armed ranks, and bring me tidings here.

Let him bring word of Nastihan,” he said,“Or I shall tear both eyes out of his head.”

They sent a hiyun rider from their men;He saw the field and hurried back again.

He said: “There Nastihan lies on the plain,Among Turan’s great captains who were slain.

Beheaded, like an elephant laid low,He lies there, fallen to the fatal blow.

His body, battered by the gorz, lies blue,As though steeped deep in indigo’s dark hue.”

At this report, Piran cried out in pain;His senses left him; grief engulfed his brain.

He tore his hair, and wept, and could not sleep;Nor food nor rest could reach a grief so deep.

He rent his Roman robe; his wailings rose,A cry of anguish for those bitter blows.

He said: “O Maker, I must bear the blameFor secret wrong against Your holy name.

For strength has left my arms, and all on highMy star and sun are darkened in the sky.

Alas, that horseman, valiant, young, and dear,Who felled the lions, seized the warriors here!

My dear world-guarding brother, lost to me,My Houman, head of Viseh’s family!

And Nastihan, fierce lion in the fray,Who made a leopard seem a fox at bay.

Who now remains to answer in my stead?I must lead forth the living for the dead.”

He blew the ney; the koust began to sound;The sky turned indigo, ebony the ground.

The army marched down from Kanabad’s height;The sun and moon were robbed of all their light.

Iran’s sepahbod made the karnay call,And set his troops in place before them all.

Amid the ranks, Kaveh’s great standard flew;Before it shone the swords of violet hue.

The famous chiefs stood ready for the blows,With spears and ox-head gorzes for their foes.

At dawn the armies closed in bitter fight,And battled till the world grew dark with night.

At dusk they sought their tents, each hostile sideStill filled with vengeance, war, and wounded pride.

Gudarz reached Raibad; his heart found no rest,For troubling thoughts lay heavy in his breast.

He said: “Today we fought a bitter fray,And slew the chieftains who opposed our way.

I think Piran will send his monarch wordBy hiyun rider, so this news is heard.

He will seek troops to bolster his array;I too must send our Shah the news today.”

Gudarz then called a practiced scribe apart,And said, “I shall disclose my hidden heart.

If you should loose one word of what is said,Your tongue will bring disaster on your head.”

He had a letter written to the throne,To make the army’s whole condition known.

He told Khosrow of all that had gone by,And every word of Piran’s stern reply.

He told how Giv bore kindness on his way,And showed how heaven turns from day to day.

He set down what reply to Giv was made,And to the wise chiefs at his side arrayed.

He told how Piran followed Giv to fight,Like some fierce leopard, toward Kanabad’s height.

He told how both sides chose their battleground,And fought until release from war was found.

Gudarz reported Houman’s final stand,And Nastihan struck down by Bijan’s hand.

He told how Bijan, through the day’s red roar,Had crushed Turan’s gorz-men till they fought no more.

When all the deeds of battle had been told,And every turn of combat was unrolled,

He turned to Afrasiab: “His force is near;He has approached the river and is here.

If from Jihun’s bank he should commandHis army onward into Iran’s land,

You know that we cannot withstand his might,O Shah of Iran, crowned with glory’s light,

Unless Khosrow shall come to lend us aid,And crown the servants in his ranks arrayed.

But if Piran brings forth his own array,And asks no royal aid to join the fray,

Khosrow shall learn what I, his servant, doAgainst Piran, through fortune drawn from you.

Of Rostam, binder of the Div, I pray,And wise Ashkash and Lohrasp, far away,

Let the victorious Shah send word to sayWhat each has done upon his distant way.”

The letter sealed, Gudarz at once decreedA royal seat be fitted to a steed.

They made it ready for the coming ride,And brought out many coursers at his side.

He called young Hajir, prudent, keen of mind,Whose youthful years an elder’s sense combined.

The Pahlevan explained the whole affairTo his discerning son with utmost care.

He said, “Wise son, devote your heart and will;Be keen, prepared this errand to fulfill.

If you would earn high standing in my sight,Now is the time to prove your worth and might.

Receive this secret letter; take the road,And fly like wind beneath its precious load.

Rest neither night nor day, nor scratch your head;Bear to the Shah this letter as I said.”

He clasped his son in farewell, held him near;Then Hajir left his father, held so dear.

He called two kinsmen from the gathered train,And mounted them on steeds of ready rein.

He left his father’s tent and journeyed fast,With a fresh hiyun at each stage he passed.

They ate and slept in saddle through the night,And rode by day with steady, tireless might.

Thus pressing on, they made their journey fleet;Within a week they reached the royal seat.

When that swift rider came by Iran’s road,Word reached Khosrow within his high abode.

Khosrow sent Shammakh with proud chiefs in train,To welcome them across the royal plain.

Shammakh saw Hajir’s face and questioned him:“O hero’s son, who seizes lions grim,

Is all well there? What news have you to bring,Who come so unexpectedly to the king?”

At the Shah’s word they drew the curtain wide,And through the gate let mounted Hajir ride.

When he saw Khosrow, he bowed down to dust;The Shah received him with a monarch’s trust.

He asked him many things, then bade him stayBeside him, where a seat was set that day.

He asked of old Gudarz and chiefs well known,Of each in turn before the royal throne.

He brought the chiefs’ salutes to Khosrow’s ear,And made the army’s whole condition clear.

Then that wise youth, with spirit clear and bright,Gave Gudarz’s sealed letter to his sight.

The monarch called a scribe, who, word by word,Read out the letter till the whole was heard.

When all was read, the Shah, rejoicing, pouredRubies in Hajir’s mouth, a gleaming hoard.

He told his treasurer: “Bring from the storeDinars and silk brocades; set them before.”

They brought the sacks and poured the gold in heaps,Till Hajir’s head was hidden in their deeps.

They brought a royal robe and jeweled crown,Such gifts as suit a monarch’s high renown.

And ten fine steeds were brought before his sight,Their golden saddles gleaming in the light.

His comrades too were robed with royal grace,And given coins and goods in that high place.

Then with the Shah they rose to drink the wine;The seats were set to suit that courtly design.

Hajir and all the nobles of the landWho served Khosrow took wine-cups in their hand.

They sat together through one night and day;Khosrow weighed all the matters of the fray.

At dawn Khosrow washed body, head, and hair,And first approached the Judge of all in prayer.

He donned fresh robes for worship, free of stain,His two eyes like a cloud that pours down rain.

He bent his back and bowed his head in praiseBefore the righteous Judge of all our days.

To God he prayed for victory and renown,For royal farr, the kingly throne and crown.

He cried to God of Afrasiab in pain,And from his eyes the tears poured down like rain.

He left the place of prayer, a cypress tall,And sat enthroned in farr within his hall.

The Shah called in his scribe and made him hearThe words his answer needed to make clear.

He swiftly wrote the letter in reply,And set forth good and ill before the eye.

He praised the Pahlevan with kingly grace:“Live ever bright in soul, in name, in face.

Blessed be the chief, discerning, wise, and strong,Whose counsel guides, whose wrath drives war along.

Lord of the gopal and the violet blade,Through you Kaveh’s great standard shines displayed.

Praise be to God, the Ruler of the earth,Who gave our troops their triumph and their worth.

When fortune shone on you, the foe’s proud flameWent up in smoke and perished with his name.

You said: ‘With noble Giv I sent PiranGood envoys from the chosen chiefs of Iran.

I gave him counsel rich with honest light,But his corrupted judgment spurned the right.

He would not join in league, or love, or peace,Nor bid the old hostility decrease.’

A chief once spoke this saying to explainHis former counselor’s vengeful heart and brain:

‘When judgment fails and drains the soul away,Ill fortune wounds the man and rules his day.’

I knew Piran would not release his hate,Nor cleanse his heart of vengeance soon or late.

Yet for the kindly deeds that marked his past,I had not sought to crush him in war’s blast.

Now time has shown where all his loyalties lie;His love for Turan stands before the eye.

He sees no one but Afrasiab alone;Seek not to turn the love that he has shown.

If he sets blind desire above his ownGood sense, no toil brings grass from flinty stone.

That you addressed the foe with gentle graceBefits the noblest warriors of our race.

Next, from your telling of the warriors’ clash,Their heavy gorzes and the battle’s crash,

You told of fortune, favoring sun and moon,And all your toil beneath the battle’s noon.

I know your deeds will bring success in fight,When on the field you meet the foeman’s might.

Know strength and courage come from God always;While life remains, give Him your thanks and praise.

Third, you have said: ‘Afrasiab will guideHis army onward through the river’s tide.

Piran has sent an envoy to his throne;His army turns toward Iran and our own.’

The matter stands exactly as you write;Now hear my answer, setting all in light.

Know, thoughtful sage, approved in every deed,And trusted in all counsel, war, and need:

His stay beside Jihun, his watchful stand,Was not to bring his troops against our band.

For troops from Chin have brought fresh danger near;On either flank lie ambushes to fear.

Many numbered men beneath their chiefs’ commandHave taken stations round Turan’s broad land.

With Rostam, refuge of the brave, in place,Lohrasp and wise Ashkash now close the space.

Afrasiab saw foes on every side,And brought his army to the river’s tide.

If he advances from his guarded ground,His enemies will close his realm around.

Fourth, since you asked of chiefs you love so well,Hear now what fortune bids my letter tell:

Be watchful, chief, and keep these things in view;In every task, may fortune go with you.

Upon the road that lion Rostam chose,The dust from Hind and far Kashmir arose.

From Khwarazm, where the watchful Ashkash went,The battle-cry rang high through heaven’s tent.

In battle, Shideh turned from him in flight,And sought Gurganj, defeated in the fight.

Where Lohrasp marched, the chiefs gave way and clearedThe roads before his army as it neared.

Alanons and the Ghuz are ours today;Their roads and passes opened to our sway.

Should Afrasiab bring his army here,Across Jihun, our chiefs will seize his rear.

They will leave nothing in his grasp but air;His rearward lands will fall beneath their care.

You know he will not leave his towns behind,His thriving realm, the lands his fortunes bind,

At Piran’s word, and set his foot this way,To leave his home to enemies as prey.

No word he speaks, whatever hour or place,Can hide from me or vanish without trace.

May that day never prosper, never shine,When he would lead his army to our line.

May no one see that day of bitter dread,When he can strike before us at our head.

Now I shall order Tus, the chief of might,To bind the koust on elephants for fight.

He will seize Dehestan and Gorgan’s plain,And raise our banner over that domain.

I too shall follow Tus to give you aid,With elephants and throne, in strength arrayed.

Meanwhile confront Piran; array your line,And offer battle under fortune’s sign.

Houman and Nastihan no longer standBehind him; only wind is in his hand.

If he should call a chief to single strife,Give leave to meet him, staking fame and life.

If bold Piran should challenge you to fight,Go like a lion, fearless in your might.

Fear not Afrasiab; keep heart and will,Do not turn back, but face his army still.

You shall defeat them in the coming war,If you keep courage and your spirits soar.

My hope rests in the Maker’s guiding hand,That joyful days shall come at His command.

I think that when I come upon the way,And bring my army to support your fray,

You will have gained your will against the foe,And raised your fame to where the sunbeams glow.

Your troops will then have finished with the fight,And all affairs be settled and set right.”

From Kavus and from Tus, the Shah conveyedFull many greetings to the troops arrayed.

Khosrow then sealed the letter with his ring,And gave it, blessing him who served the king.

When Hajir left the royal court that day,Khosrow and his minister weighed the fray.

His care for troops, his thought of coming war,Held all his mind; he pondered nothing more.

He said, “If fierce Afrasiab should rise,And cross the stream, disaster clouds our skies.

He may drive back my troops and strike our men;The wiser course is I must march again.”

He called brave Tus of Nohzar’s noble line,And gave command beneath the royal sign:

“Lead forth your army straight to Dehestan,And fill Khwarazm’s broad plain, O Pahlevan.

Protect the army on the day of fight,And charge like some fierce leopard in your might.”

The tabira at Tus’s gateway cried;The brazen ney and mighty koust replied.

Chiefs and their troops marched out in ordered bands,Till horse-hooves hid the surface of the lands.

The circling sun itself seemed standing still,Struck motionless before their iron will.

Two weeks the army marched; its dust rose high,And dimmed the sun and moon across the sky.

Throughout the realm the news spread far and wide:The conquering Shah was setting out to ride.

For when Tus left, Khosrow prepared to go,His chosen chiefs arrayed in rank and row.

A hundred thousand chosen men of might,All Pahlevans and heroes fit for fight,

He led toward Gudarz, with warriors knownFor fierce contention when the horns were blown.

With farr and koust and elephants he rode,With crown and throne, and left his own abode.

Hajir sped from Khosrow, smiling bright,His heart rejoicing in the homeward flight.

Clad in his robe of honor, blithe and gay,He rode as though the earth were swept away.

He neared the camp; the karnay rang on high,As though a strife had risen in the sky.

The moon and Venus, Jupiter in might,Seemed locked in heaven’s contest at that sight.

The whole world seemed to greet him as he came;The earth with tulips, air with gold, aflame.

Bright as a cock’s eye, all the ranks shone clear,With elephants, gold zang, and koust drawn near.

Before Gudarz he spoke with measured word,And told of Khosrow, all he saw and heard.

He spoke of royal kindness, wisdom, grace,Of bonds of love, of gifts that marked his place.

He told how Khosrow held his army dear,And how the message filled his heart with cheer.

Then Hajir gave the letter Khosrow penned,With noble greetings that the Shah would send.

Gudarz received it, pressed it to his eyes,Then touched it to his face with grateful cries.

He broke the seal and gave the opened scrollTo one who read the royal message whole.

The chieftain blessed the Shah and kissed the ground,In homage to the charge the letter bound.

He spent the night in counsel with his son,Then sat with doors thrown wide when night was done.

The famous men throughout the army came,In helmets, each renowned by rank and name.

Hajir produced the glorious Shah’s command,And gave it to a scribe before the band.

The scribe read out the counsel sent that day,The Shah’s commands before the whole array.

Gudarz then called the paymasters to countThe army’s rolls and pay the full amount.

From mountain pastures he brought every steed,The gathered herds to serve the army’s need.

His stores held swords, dinars, and girdles bright,Rich jowshan, golden helmets for the fight.

He gave the paymasters the keys that day;The hour for vengeance called them to the fray.

He poured much wealth among the gathered force,And armed the footmen and the men on horse.

An army like a mountain gathered, vast;The earth shook as their hoofbeats thundered past.

The hearts of lions quaked before that train,Where iron, gold, and silver lit the plain.

He bade them make their preparations clear,And turn to vengeance heart and eye and ear.

They marched by companies before their chief,Like mountains massed, their strength beyond belief.

He watched the troops; the earth was dark below,The sky above a lapis-colored glow.

He said: “Since Pashan’s battle, no arrayHas matched the force that stands in ranks today,

With horses, arms, with silver and with gold,War elephants and warriors lion-bold.

If God, the World-Creator, aids us then,We ride to Chin before we turn again.”

He took his seat and called the wise men near,And set the nobles down in joyful cheer.

He drank with easy heart and spirit bright,And with the heroes planned the coming fight.

To Piran came the news of Iran’s might,And how its chief had set his plans for fight.

His heart grew fearful; then he turned to guile,To seek escape through cunning, fraud, and wile.

He sought his wise adviser to prepareA path through all this vengeance and despair.

Then he called a practiced scribe to writeGudarz a plea for peace and end the fight.

First he praised God, the mighty refuge near,Who shelters all men from Divs and their fear.

Then he wrote: “In public and private prayer,I call upon the Ruler everywhere

To end this long contention of our sides,And still the field where bloodshed now resides.

If you, Gudarz, have sought this war’s design,To fill the world with vengeance for your line,

Your thirst is sated; you have gained your will.Consider now what end awaits you still.

See how my gallant kin lie torn apart,My nearest lions, each a noble heart.

You flung them headless where the dead were spread;Have you no fear of God above your head?

From love and wisdom you have turned your face;Now that your will is gained, make room for grace.

Grow sick of vengeance; cease this bloody fight,And let no further slaughter stain the light.

Consider riders lost from Iran’s side,And those of brave Turan who fell in pride.

It is high time that pity rise in you,And mercy check what strife would make you do.

In seeking vengeance for one vanished breath,How many living men will you doom to death?

What has gone by no effort can regain;Sow no fresh seeds of vengeance for the slain.

Do not consume your spirit with this strife;Turn back from bitterness and wasting life.

The dead are cursed who leave a lasting nameFor evil, blood, destruction, and dark fame.

When sable hair turns white upon the head,The hope of lengthy life has nearly fled.

I fear that if our armies clash in war,And fill this field again with battle’s roar,

No man of either army will remainAlive upon this blood-contested plain.

Lives will be lost, but vengeance will endure;Which side will shine, which sink, no man is sure.

But if your fixed resolve demands more blood,And you would plunge like lions through the flood,

If all this lion-like contention hereIs for Iran, then make your purpose clear.

Speak: I shall send a rider, swift of steed,To seek Afrasiab’s counsel in our need,

To seek Afrasiab’s leave and his command,So we may draw the borders of each land,

And set this strife aside by ancient lore,As Manuchehr made peace in days before.

Declare what lands you claim for Iran’s throne,That we may move the Turks out from your own,

From settled lands and ruined tracts of ground,Wherever righteous Khosrow sets the bound.

First, from Iran the boundary climbs the heightOf Gharchagan, with Bost below in sight;

Then Talikan to Fariyab shall stand,And Balkh to Andarab, within your hand;

Then Panjhir, with the lands of Bamiyan,The Kayanian home and border of Iran.

The favored land of Guzganan I name,So called by him who rules the worldly frame.

From Balkh as far as bright Badakhshan’s height,Where signs of royal sway are brought to light,

And lower still, the plains of Zam shall stand,With Amuy and Khatlan in your command.

Shingan and Tirmid, Visagard I yield,Bukhara and the towns around its field.

Go onward into Sughd; no hostile claimFrom any Turkish lord shall mar its name.

Where valiant Rostam turned his battle-rein,To him I yield the realm of Nimruz plain.

I shall recall my troops and clear the way,And open passage toward Bakhtar that day.

I shall withdraw as far as Hind’s domain;Let no dark feud within our souls remain.

Kashmir, Kabul, and Kandahar shall stand,With lands before the Sind, within his hand.

Where Lohrasp went to war, Alanons’ realmAnd all that region pass beneath his helm.

From all these lands to Kaf, no strife shall barKhosrow’s possession, near at hand or far.

Where Ashkash marched, I likewise shall commandMy troops to leave the whole extent of land.

This done, I shall recall on every sideMy troops, and cast the former feud aside.

Before you I shall swear an oath and showThat I shall stand no longer as your foe.

You then shall know that truth is what we claim,With love and faithfulness our constant aim.

I shall send word to Afrasiab’s throne,That we have ceased from strife and made it known.

You too should look with favor on our name,And write Khosrow, whose judgment rules our fame.

Tell him that I have offered you my peace,And wish our rivalry in blood to cease.

When covenant is sealed and peace is meant,The treasures Khosrow asked for shall be sent.

Perhaps he too will cease his martial course,And draw away from war his royal force.

Then I will send him hostages, and spareNo goods of any sort, no treasures rare.

By treaty, just and solemn, firmly signed,The eye of feud shall be sewn shut and blind.

Good faith will close the wound once deeply torn,When Tur and savage Salm made nations mourn,

When Fereydoon was torn by grief and pain,Because his noble Iraj had been slain.

Whatever else you need, speak plain and state,Then write the Shah and tell him of our fate.

Think not, because I speak with gentle speech,That fear or shame compels us to beseech.

I speak from love and seek, on every side,A peaceful end that puts all wrath aside.

My treasure and my men exceed your store;My name in valor has been honored more.

Yet this endless and godless tide of bloodHas drowned my heart beneath its crimson flood.

I grieve for all the troops, and I would ceaseThis feud and bring the fields again to peace.

Besides, I stand in awe of God Most High,In public and alone beneath the sky.

The Judge approves no evil deed or wrong;We squander time in strife prolonged so long.

Now if you turn away from words I send,And seek a war that only death can end,

Condemning me, though innocent I stand,And scorning every plea from heart and hand,

Since right and wrong alike seem one to you,And you would drive this feud to battle through,

Choose chiefs who wield the gorz, of Iran’s race,The men most worthy now to take their place.

And I shall choose from all my gathered mightThe warriors best equipped to meet the fight.

We two shall pair the champions from our men,And let the chiefs take up their arms again.

Then you and I shall meet upon that ground,And wheel in combat while our arms resound.

Perhaps the guiltless men who dread the fightWill rest, released from bloodshed and its blight.

Those whom you hold as guilty in your thought,Those who have grieved your heart, shall all be brought

Before you on the chosen battle-day;But you must pledge yourself to what I say:

If you prevail and shed our blood in fight,And Turkish fortune turns from us in flight,

You shall not harm my troops or burn my throne,Nor put to flame the country that I own.

Give all my troops free passage from the fray,And set no ambush on their homeward way.

If I prevail, and my good star bears fruit,I shall not strike Iranians in pursuit.

I shall not lay an ambush for their band,Nor seek revenge, but let them reach their land.

I shall give passage back to Iran’s throne,And send each warrior safely to his own.

Not one among their number shall be lost;Their lives and goods shall bear no further cost.

If you refuse this manner of the fight,And seek another course to prove your might,

If you would have both armies take the field,Bring your whole army; try to make us yield.

For all the blood this vengeance makes you shed,You answer in the world beyond the dead.”

He tied the letter, then he called his son,A noble youth, the army’s trusted one.

His son, named Ruyin, led the gathered men,His iron strength renowned among them then.

He said, “Go now to old Gudarz and speakWith wisdom; hear the answer that you seek.”

Ruyin rode out from Piran’s gate in pride,And ten bold horsemen gathered at his side.

The prudent youth rode swiftly with his band,And reached the tent of Iran’s high command.

When Ruyin came to old Gudarz’s gate,A runner told the chief who stood in wait.

Gudarz then called the envoy to his side;The youth came through the curtain, eager-eyed.

He stood before Gudarz, his hands held tightAcross his breast, and bowed within his sight.

The chief rose swiftly, clasped him to his breast,And held the youth close as an honored guest.

He asked of Piran, of his gathered band,His warriors, his monarch, and his land.

Then Ruyin gave the letter he had brought,And spoke the message just as he was taught.

A scribe came forward, read the letter through,And told Gudarz each word, exact and true.

When all the words had reached them, every chiefAnd seasoned horseman stood in disbelief.

Such gentle speech, such counsel to unite,Such paths to friendship did the letter cite.

They marveled at what wise Piran had said,The kindly counsel in the words just read.

Gudarz then said to Ruyin, “Noble son,Your father’s pride, O young and fortunate one,

First you must be our guest and take your ease;Then seek the answer when the time agrees.”

They cleared a new pavilion for his stay,And furnished it in fitting royal array.

With Roman brocade all the tent was dressed;They called for food and music for the guest.

The youth grew troubled, wondering what replyThe Pahlevan would give him by and by.

For one whole week Gudarz delayed his word,With harp and wine, and no reply was heard.

Each day, when from the height the shining sunHad turned and half its daily course was run,

He called for wine and music to be played,And summoned Piran’s envoy where he stayed.

Upon the eighth day, at the dawn’s first light,Gudarz called in the scribe and bade him write.

The scribe began; with every stroke he drew,A tree of vengeance in the answer grew.

He first gave praise to God, then turned to stateHis answer to each point of their debate.

“Your letter I have read from end to end,And heard each word that you have wished to send.

And Ruyin brought your message to my side,Each matter that you charged him to confide.

I marvel that you write such gracious things,And at the honeyed words your letter brings.

Your heart and tongue are neighbors far apart;Your soul has gained no wisdom for its part.

In every matter you speak fair and wise,With phrases rich in grace before men’s eyes.

Whoever lacks true wisdom might believeYour goodwill and the web your words can weave.

You are like salt ground glittering in the sun,That seems like water to a distant one.

But lies and tricks avail no warrior’s hand,When gorz and sword and kamand fill the land.

I want no dealings now but war with you;This is no hour for parleys to renew.

No time for league, for love, or painted speech,But time to learn what heaven’s signs will teach.

We watch to whom God grants the conquering sun,And strength and fortune when the fight is done.

Still hear me now, and let wise counsel guide;Let wisdom lead good fortune at your side.

First, you have said: ‘Through kindness and through fearOf God and resurrection drawing near,

I do not wish to stir this bitter fight;My heart is cramped by all this wrongful plight.’

Your tongue and heart were never joined as one,Though honeyed phrases from your mouth have run.

If justice had possessed your heart and breath,You would not first have led the road to death.

When Giv first came with nobles, grave and wise,And laid his peaceful counsel before your eyes,

With prudent words and honorable speech,You raised war’s iron wall beyond their reach.

You armed your army for this bitter fight,And left your land to violate our right.

In every clash, aggression was your will;You moved your troops, intent on bloodshed still.

Had wisdom come before you took this way,You would have found more peace at last today.

Your evil nature, bent on crooked gain,Has driven you from wisdom’s level plain.

The nature of your race was formed in guile,And treachery has marked it all the while.

You know how high-born Iraj met his doom,When Tur envied his crown and royal room.

You know what evil Tur and Salm began,And how injustice spread through every clan.

You know how vengeance spread through field and throne,And grief made Fereydoon’s long anguish known.

He cursed them ceaselessly with wounded breath,His heart laid open by his loved son’s death.

The Giver’s aid sustained him day by day;He nursed that vengeance, would not turn away.

Long ages passed; that foul inherited strainReached Afrasiab through a lawless chain.

He sought revenge on Manuchehr, made warOn Nohzar, Kay Qobad, and Iran’s shore.

You know what wrong he did to Kavus’s crown,And how he ground our prosperous Iran down.

At last, with guiltless Siavash’s blood,He laid new feud’s foundation in a flood.

You had no thought of justice on that day,When blameless Siavash gave life away.

How many chiefs of Iran, crowned with state,Have fallen in this feud through Turkish hate.

You next have said: ‘Old man with whitening hair,How long will you stay armed, your blade laid bare?’

Know this, old deceiver, tried by time,Who saw life’s rise and fall through every crime:

God gave me length of days and fortune bright,That I might avenge Iran in open fight.

I mean to send the dust from Turan high,Until its cloud ascends toward the sky.

My only fear is God may end my breath,And part my soul and body through my death,

Before I win the vengeance I have planned,And set my feet upon your conquered land.

You thirdly say: ‘I see no holy aweOf God in you, no reverence for His law.’

Do you not know that wanton blood will turnAgainst the man who lets destruction burn?

If gentle words should make me quit the fight,And turn me from the vengeance that is right,

God would inquire how I had spent my days,And ask me to account for all my ways:

‘I gave you leadership and strength to stand,With wisdom, wealth, and valor at command.

Why did you fail before Iran’s arrayTo arm for Siavash and make foes pay?’

And when the Judge asks of my seventy sons,Those noble lives cut off like setting suns,

How shall I answer Him who made the world,If fear or charm had kept my banner furled?

The fourth point that you raised, O aged chief,Was Siavash, the source of all this grief.

You said: ‘For one whose body turns to clay,You should not take the living soul away.’

Remember all the foul deeds you have done,And griefs that darkened Iran’s royal sun.

Remember wrongs you wrought throughout our land,And monarchs ruined by Turan’s command.

What treaties you have broken, feuds begun,What paths toward evil you have always run.

How can I think of this and grant release,When all your faithless deeds have murdered peace?

Fifth, you say: ‘I shall covenant with you;The chiefs of Turan shall be hostages too.

I shall send Khosrow wealth and end this toil,And close the road to suffering on our soil.’

Know then, sepahbod of the Turkish land,Our Shah has given us a different command.

He ordered me to grapple to the deathAnd shed your blood for Siavash’s last breath.

If I refuse to do as Khosrow bade,My soul before its Maker stands dismayed.

If you still hope Khosrow will turn to peace,And through these words bid all his anger cease,

Send all the wealth and hostages you name,With Lahhak and with Ruyin of your fame.

Send them at once to Khosrow; let them rideTo Iran, where the road stands open wide.

Sixth, you have named Iran’s fair towns and lands,Its prosperous realm, to pass into our hands.

You said: ‘To Khosrow I shall yield them all,And all my scattered troops I shall recall.’

But God has seized them first; and if you knowNo word of this, the truth I now shall show.

Lohrasp has taken all the western side,As far as Khazar’s marches spreading wide.

Southward to Sind, the whole realm is arrayedIn gleaming iron like a polished blade.

Brave Rostam, with his sharp and trenchant sword,Has raised a day of doom on every horde.

Rostam sent Hind’s chief to the Shah that day,His sable standard borne along the way.

In Dehestan, Khwarazm, and all that groundWhere Turkish raiders raised their heads around,

The desert has been cleared of all their band;Our troops now ride on toward Bakhtar’s land.

Ashkash rained hail on Shideh in the fight,And brought him near to death beneath his might.

He sent Khosrow the captives and the spoil,And purged the region of its war and toil.

Now here the contest lies between us two,Where honor or disgrace awaits our view.

In battle you have seen the strength they show,Those famous chiefs whose prowess well you know.

Come meet me face to face, and you shall see:I shall release you from this talk with me.

By God’s own power and the Shah’s command,I shall sink this whole field in blood and sand.

Observe, famed captain of the Turkish side,The sun and moon beneath which hopes have died.

Heaven has nearly bound you fast and bare;Your fortune’s head is set within the snare.

Mark what the Maker lays upon your headFor evil deeds and all the blood you shed.

Time has revealed your crimes beneath the sky,And evil now repays each former lie.

Be heedful now; open your ears and learnWhat wise men say before the seasons turn.

These famous ranks, a hundred thousand strong,Will not be charmed from vengeance for your wrong.

They all seek honor, vengeance, war’s red field,And no sweet phrase can make their purpose yield.

I reach the seventh point: by oath you tryTo prove your truth beneath the watchful sky.

I will not speak of further bonds with you;Your soul will buy no wisdom, old or new.

For every man with whom you swear in trustWill find you break that faith and turn it dust.

Your oath brought Siavash to grief and death;Let no man trust the promise of your breath.

You did not save him on his evil day,Though in distress he called you every way.

The eighth point: you have said, ‘My crown and throne,My fortune, troops, and valor top your own.

I hold more treasure, men, and warlike fame,Yet love torments my heart despite my claim.’

I think you tested me in war before;You know whether I failed when battles tore.

Look once again, and judge me from the start,In every skill and in the warrior’s art.

In treasure, fortune, crown and throne, compare;Perhaps I stand above you everywhere.

And lastly you have said: ‘Choose men to fight,A few brave champions, proven in their might.

I too will choose from Turan’s mounted menThe warriors fit to face your champions then.

From tenderness toward troops I do not seekTo spread revenge against the worn and weak.’

You put compassion forward as your plea;Your hidden heart and purpose you can see.

The Shah, the ruler of the world, would blameMy act, if I withdrew our troops in shame.

You also asked that I should meet you here,And face you on this plain with sword and spear.

Before me stands a guilty force in arms,That filled Iran with grief and war’s alarms.

The Shah will never let me shun the fight,Or turn from vengeance when our cause is right.

First, let our armies meet upon this ground,Like mountains crashing with a mighty sound.

Let both our armies form their ranks and strive;Perhaps we then shall see which side will thrive.

If not, we bring those champions to the field,And make a place where prowess is revealed.

My word shall stand, though yours may break in two;I know how little oaths have meant to you.

But if your present force cannot withstandMy men, then ask your king for a stronger band.

Consider carefully your state and need,And weigh the course by which you would proceed.

As for the wounded absent from the ranks,Among your kin, allies, and warrior flanks,

Wait till the healers make them whole and strong;A brief delay need not detain you long.

If you wish for delay and time to heal,Then speak it plainly; otherwise, draw steel.

I offer this so, on the battle-day,You cannot find excuse enough to say:

‘You fell upon us suddenly and pressed;You ambushed us and gave no time to rest.’

If I seek vengeance for a hundred years,Or now at once, the same resolve appears.

There is no hope that I shall quit the fight;For sightless eyes, alike are day and night.”

When that reply was finished and made clear,The fairy-faced young envoy then drew near.

His belt secured, he rode his rapid steed,With mounted men around him, fit for deed.

Then Ruyin left his saddle on the plain,And brought before Gudarz his mounted train.

Gudarz then called the Mobadan to hear,And courtly sages gathered quickly near.

Wise men and shrewd came swiftly to his side,With clear and ready minds to hear and guide.

Before the chiefs, Gudarz then gave the word:“Let all the answer I have written be heard.”

The great men heard the cogent answer read,Recited by the scribe, as custom led.

They judged the wisdom of Piran as slight,And held his offered counsel thin and light.

They praised Gudarz and hailed his honored name,The chosen Pahlevan of deathless fame.

He sealed the letter, gave it to the sonOf Piran, sprung from Viseh, honored one.

When Ruyin rose to go, he bade them bringA robe of honor fitting for a king.

Arab steeds with golden trappings came,With crowns and swords in golden sheaths aflame.

His comrades too received both silver brightAnd gold, with caps and belts as each had right.

Then Ruyin mounted on his rapid horse,And led his escort back toward Piran’s force.

When Ruyin reached his father’s camp, his bandWent with him to the chief who held command.

He bowed before the throne with lowered face;Piran received him in a close embrace.

He gave Iran’s sepahbod’s words their due,And told of all the army in his view.

A scribe read out the letter, word by word;Piran’s heart blackened at the news he heard.

His heart was full of pain, his soul of fear;He knew a harsh descent was drawing near.

He chose restraint and silence in that hour,And hid the message from his gathered power.

Then to the troops he said: “Gudarz will yieldNo change of heart, no peace upon this field.

For all the blood of seventy sons once dear,His heart will find no rest from vengeance here.

If he, recalling what has passed away,Renews this ancient hatred day by day,

Why should I not gird on my arms to fight,Avenging my lost brothers with my might?

And for nine hundred chiefs whose blood was shed,Whose bodies in the battle lost each head?

In all the lands of Turan none can rideTo war like Houman, with his strength and pride.

And Nastihan, that cypress spreading shade,Who vanished from the ranks where warriors stayed.

Now we must gird for battle, sword in hand;I shall not leave the Iranians our land.

By God’s great power, my sword shall end their might,And raise the Day of Doom before their sight.”

He chose the fitting horses from his herds,And brought them to the troops to match his words.

He mounted all the footmen for the fray,And gave each rider two steeds on that day.

He opened up the doors of ancient stores,And gave dinars and wealth in lavish scores.

When this was done, near sleep’s appointed hour,Piran sent forth a man of trusted power.

He was an elder, eloquent and wise,A warrior-scribe, with counsel in his eyes.

He said, “Go to the King of Turan; say:‘O righteous king beneath the crown’s bright ray,

Since first the turning heaven arched on high,Above earth’s dust beneath the darkened sky,

No king like you has sat upon the throne;No royal name has been so widely known.

No other man is worthy of the state,The crown and girdle of auspicious fate.

The Ruler of the world will grind to dustAll those who meet your battle and your thrust.

I am your slave, and guilty in your sight,Because I failed to heed your counsel right.

Through Kay Khosrow I earned your anger’s flame;I know no other fault against my name.

God willed what passed; what has been done is done;From lengthy speech no benefit is won.

If still the Shah will hear his servant’s plea,Let him forgive, and find a place for me.

Now I send news of how the turning skyHas dealt with me beneath its watchful eye.

I led my army up to Kanabad’s height,And checked Iran’s advance before the fight.

Upon their side a mighty army came,With great Gudarz and chiefs of lordly fame.

Since Manuchehr was Shah, no greater bandHad marched from Iran toward Turan’s land.

They took their place on Raibad’s mountain height,And there our armies faced in guarded might.

Three days and nights, like leopards held at bay,The facing camps stood ready for the fray.

We did not strike; we waited on the field,In hope the mountains’ shelter they would yield.

Their army would not leave that guarded height;Our chieftains’ fortune darkened at the sight.

Gudarz held tireless to his chosen ground,And kept his mountain fastness guarded round.

Then Houman, my world-conquering brother, burnedTo seek the fight, and from our army turned.

He went to challenge chiefs of Iran’s line;What met that lion there, I cannot divine.

The son of Giv rode out to take his stand,And fought with noble Houman, hand to hand.

By one like Bijan was my brother slain;My head reeled with the burden of that pain.

Whoever saw a lofty cypress fallBefore one blade of grass, so weak and small?

That death broke every great man’s heart in two,And grief destroyed the joy our warriors knew.

Then Nastihan, renowned throughout the land,With ten full thousand horsemen in his band,

Departed from my side at break of day;Bijan struck off his head within the fray.

With grieving heart, I led our troops afield,And met the foe with battle-cry and shield.

We fought in force until night climbed the hill,And iron rang while both sides battled still.

Nine hundred of the king’s best men lay dead,Each body parted from its severed head.

Two-thirds of all these warriors bore the stainOf sword-wounds, with their hearts worn down by pain.

The Iranians gained the upper hand in fight;For vengeance, all had drawn their girdles tight.

I fear the turning sky, from this dark day,Will wholly draw its favor from our way.

Since then worse news has reached my troubled ear,And left me stunned with fresh distress and fear:

Khosrow comes armed with all his force, they say,To strengthen our opponent in the fray.

If this report is true, and Khosrow’s trainIs coming here to cross our battle-plain,

My king must know: I cannot take my bandTo face him and against his forces stand,

Unless the king, with troops prepared to fight,Turns toward Iran to meet their growing might.

Gird on your belt for vengeance; lead your men,And turn this evil from Turan again.

For if we perish by Iranian hands,Who will avenge our blood in Turan’s lands?’”

The envoy heard what Piran had to say,And hurried like the wind upon his way.

He mounted on a hiyun, swift and tall,Like fire that races at the wind’s fierce call.

He rode to Afrasiab, through the night,Nor paused for breath or sleep along his flight.

He reached the king when all his road was spent,Kissed first the throne, then spoke what Piran sent.

The monarch heard Piran’s dark news with pain;His face grew yellow, grief filled every vein.

He mourned the slain, his army put to flight,His ruined country and its bitter plight.

On every side fierce leopards stretched their claws;His world grew dark and narrow in their jaws.

Yet from the words that Piran sent that day,He saw the troops still held their firm array.

He praised him, took fresh joy, and found his heartIllumined, as the shadows drew apart.

He lodged the envoy near him for the night,And weighed his counsel till the morning light.

At dawn, crowned for the business of the day,He called the envoy, ready now to say.

The monarch bade the messenger return,To brave Piran, whose counsels brightly burn.

He sent reply: “O kindly chief and true,A faithful heart speaks plainly through all you do.

Since first your noble mother gave you birth,Each gathering has honored you for worth.

You stand first with me, ranked above the rest,Above the Pahlevans my realm has blessed.

Your body is the jowshan round my own;Your life, a shield before my royal throne.

In every task you choose hard toil for me,And spend your wealth to keep my kingdom free.

You lead my armies out from Chin to fightAgainst Iran, and plunge its hopes in night.

You are earth’s foremost prince and Pahlevan;A thousand blessings crown you in Turan.

Since Tur and Pashang, heaven’s turning blueHas raised no other Pahlevan like you.

No army sees a sepahbod so wise,Nor one so keen to gird himself and rise.

First, you have said: ‘Before the gathered band,I count myself at fault for what I planned.

For Khosrow left Turan for Iran’s throne,And there the seed of this great feud was sown.’

You know that I, the king, am not aggrieved,Nor has my heart that charge or grief received.

So do not let this burden cloud your mind;Such care will leave the rust of grief behind.

What came to pass was God’s appointed will;No mortal taught another to do ill.

Khosrow derives no royal light from me;To call him grandson is a false decree.

Nor will I call myself grandfather now;No gold can come from kinship I disavow.

In this affair, no mortal bears the blame;I do not strive with Him from whom it came.

What happened passed according to His will;Why should my heart take grief against you still?

And secondly, you spoke of armies’ plight,Of sun and moon grown dark before your sight.

In warfare, darkening dust will always rise;It turns from side to side beneath the skies.

It raises men to sunlit heights of fame,Then casts them down to dust and bitter shame.

Yet heaven’s favor does not always stay;It gives men grief, then clears the clouds away.

Now wine and music fill a man with cheer;Now sorrow brings him grief and hardship here.

Do not let grief within your spirit burn;Nor bind your soul as heaven’s circles turn.

To speak about the slain is but a dream;Keep vengeance for your brother as your theme.

The heart in anguish for a brother lostIs cured by neither healer, care, nor cost.

You thirdly say: ‘Khosrow has left his throne,And marches with an army all his own.’

The tidings that have reached you are untrue:Khosrow is not advancing now on you.

It is Tus, sepahbod of troops, instead,Who marches now where Dehestan lies spread.

May no man see the day he takes the lead,And strikes before I can perform my deed.

At dawn I mean to lead my force away,Across Jihun to meet them in array.

I shall spare neither Gudarz, Tus, nor crown,Nor Khosrow; throne and buq and koust go down.

So will I strike Iran that none shall seeThe Shah’s throne standing where it used to be.

I will not leave the world to Kay Khosrow;I shall take him unaware with sudden blow.

My khanjar shall cut off his head that day;His grieving mother’s soul shall waste away.

Unless the turning sky should bring to lightSome different outcome in the coming fight.

O noble veteran, God has granted all;You lack no strength for battle’s urgent call.

All that you wish is yours: treasure and men,And power of heart and hand renewed again.

Full thirty thousand horsemen now shall ride,Intrepid, shrewd, and gallant at your side.

I send them now, fresh strength to see you through,And clear the grief that darkened all your view.

Ten men of Iran would look small and slight,Beside one horseman of this chosen might.

When they arrive, delay not by a day;Cut off Gudarz’s head and crown away.

The mountain that he holds as his redoubt,Bring down with charging horses; root him out.

When victory is yours and foes lie cast,Do not restrain the sword; strike hard and fast.”

The envoy heard the monarch’s fierce command,Then rode to Piran through Turanian land.

Piran called all the troops before his throne;The messenger made all the message known.

Those words gave heart to all the gathered men,And freed them from the grief they feared till then.

Yet inwardly Piran was filled with dread;His fortune turned, his heart with sorrow bled.

On every side, amid the battle’s din,He saw the monarch’s armies wearing thin.

The thought of Iran’s Shah increased his fear:Khosrow might come at once and meet him here.

He prayed: “O You, all-powerful and high,What marvels pass beneath the turning sky!

The man You raise no power can overthrow;No fall can claim him while You will it so.

Except for You, no ruler holds command,No lasting sovereign governs sea or land.

Look now at Khosrow: who but God could knowThat he would rise a king from grief below?

Behold how turning fortune grants its shareTo one it chooses for its special care.

From withered thorns it brings fresh roses bright,And dust turns musk when fortune grants its light.

Yet stranger still, a man, through greed and gain,Will keep his own heart endlessly in pain.

A grandfather and grandson hold the throne;Why must this field for such a feud be known?

With monarchs of two realms set face to face,And serried armies waiting in one place,

How can I know the issue of this fight,Or where the wheel of fortune turns its light?”

He thought: “If Afrasiab should be killed,With all Turan’s famed chiefs, the battle-skilled,

If they are doomed to perish in the fray,And all our fortune’s promise turns away—”

Then bitterly he wailed: “O Judge on high,O radiant Maker, hear my grieving cry.

When Khosrow comes from Iran to this plain,And all the earth falls under his domain,

Then let the Maker take my soul away,My body in its jowshan torn that day.

May these world-seeing eyes not live to seeAnother take my place and ways from me.

To one whose fortune thwarts his every breath,No difference lies between his life and death.”

When morning spread its golden brocade wide,The sea of battle heaved from side to side.

A war-cry rose from both assembled sides,And hoofbeats shook the plain in thunderous tides.

On every side the troops in jowshans rolled,Till hills and plains were hidden, fold by fold.

Both chieftains, leopard-like, drew up their might,And mustered all their powers for the fight.

The arrows showered like rain from darkened cloud,And all the world was wrapped in battle’s shroud.

It seemed a cloud-dark night of murk and gloom,Its rain was shafts and flashing blades of doom.

The earth was iron with the horses’ tread,The warriors’ hands shone ruby-bright and red.

So many headless bodies filled the field,There was no room to turn, no path to yield.

No passage for the horses’ feet remained;The earth was tulip-hued where blood had stained.

The air was indigo, the plain blood-red,And waves ran high across that sea of dead.

Both chiefs said, “If our men maintain this fight,By dusk, no living warrior stands in sight.

No living man shall stand beneath the sky;The world will turn, with God alone on high.”

When Piran saw the battle’s fierce array,He called Lahhak and Farshidvard to say:

“Of all the troops who serve beneath your hand,Choose those most fit for battle from each band.

Set them in three divisions for the field,With captains who know well the arms they wield.

Select the men most watchful in the fray,Most skilled at keeping hostile troops at bay.

Entrust to them the army’s rear to guard;You two must take the flanks and strike them hard.”

He sent Lahhak toward the mountain height,With all his gathered horsemen armed for fight.

And Farshidvard beside the stream then rode,Till dust rose to the sun along that road.

As those Turanian chiefs came on in force,A watchman on his lookout marked their course.

He sent a rider from his post on high,To bring Gudarz the news with urgent cry.

Gudarz’s watch kept guard beside the band,And scanned for enemies on either hand.

Lahhak and Farshidvard raised dust that spread,As from their ambush paths they forward sped.

The Iranian riders closed with them in blood,And turned the dust to one destructive flood.

Then messengers from every flank were spurredTo tell Gudarz the danger they had heard.

Gudarz looked back to see what chief stood near,Of all the warlike men who held his rear.

His son Hajir, a lion in the fight,Stood in reserve with bow and sword held bright.

Gudarz said, “Find brave Giv without delay;The army’s rear is in his charge today.

Tell him to send support to stream and crest,Troop after troop to aid the men hard-pressed.

And tell him, too, to choose a valiant man,To hold the army’s rear, as he began.

To that man let him give his former place,Then let him come ahead to meet my face.”

Hajir stood ready, with his girdle tight,And heard his father’s words amid the fight.

He hurried to his brother through the band,And told him all their father’s strict command.

When Giv had heard, his spirit rose like flame;He chose a warrior of distinguished name.

He chose Farhad, high-ranked among the bold,And gave to him the battle-line to hold.

Then Zangeh, son of Shavaran, he sent,With two hundred veterans, on slaughter bent.

He sent them toward the stream with gorz and blade,To strike at Farshidvard and break his raid.

To Gorgin, son of Milad, brave and wise,He gave two hundred, with a flag that flies.

He said, “Lead on with spears and gorz; give chase;Show prowess now and drive them from their place.

Go to that field of vengeance; let your mightTurn all the world before them black as night.

Ride toward Lahhak, and there your strength employ;Those foemen’s ranks in battle you must destroy.”

Then Giv, the horseman shining like the sun,Came to his father, those commands now done.

Gudarz said, “Lion-hearted son of mine,Sepahbod of Iran, who guides our line,

Their army’s back is broken by our might;Their chiefs are bowed with grief amid the fight.

Your courage now must serve you in the field,For you must ride where blows ring on the shield.

Our army’s hopes are fixed on you today;Seize now the field and sweep their ranks away.

Spare not the foe; advance and show your might;The hour of vengeance calls you to the fight.

Go to the center; seek Piran, our foe,And take your vengeance with your strongest blow.

For on his shoulders all Turan is borne;When he sees you, his very skin is torn.

If you can seize him, you will do a deedWith God and favoring fortune at your need.

Then all the army’s toil and pain shall cease;The Shah, the world’s lord, shall rejoice in peace.

Much treasure and rich goods shall come your way,And all your hopes find order from that day.

Afrasiab’s strength shall break beneath the blow;His heart shall bleed, his eyes with tears shall flow.”

Thus to his son the seasoned chieftain spoke;The son bound tight his belt for battle’s stroke.

Giv mounted and set spurs to his swift steed,Like lightning down a slope he rode at speed.

He called the horsemen from the left and right,And gathered all those warriors for the fight.

Guraza came, and Gostaham drew near,With Bijan and the army-chief Hajir.

Those noble warriors took the forward road,Toward Turan’s center, where its banners showed.

Like lions on the hunt, they rode their course,Each mounted on a swift and gelded horse.

They charged against the ranks with all their weight,And vented all their vengeance and their hate.

Across the plain, the armored horsemen reeled,And scattered in the tumult of the field.

Beneath the horses lay the fallen brave,Their jowshans shrouds, a lion’s breast their grave.

When Ruyin, son of Piran, from the rear,Beheld the onset and the dust draw near,

He issued from the rear of Turan’s band,With wolfish nobles, sword and spear in hand.

Like some fierce leopard, he engaged the foe,But could not master them or lay them low.

He struggled hard, then cast his sword away,And turned his back, despairing of the fray.

Piran the chief, with warriors of his own,Held firm his place, his face to battle shown.

Giv saw him there, and wheeled, and spurred to breachThe ring of guards that kept Piran from reach.

He speared four men and hurled them to the ground,From those before Piran, his guards around.

Piran, son of Viseh, strung his bow,And rained sharp arrows fiercely on his foe.

Bold Giv held up his shield above his head,And charged with spear, a wolf where blood was shed.

But when he sought to close with fierce Piran,And thrust his spear against the chief of Turan,

His charger halted, rooted to the ground;It would not move from where it now was found.

Enraged, he lashed his swift steed with the whip,And anger loosed the words upon his lip.

He seethed, then let his bitter curses flyAgainst the evil Div beneath the sky.

Then with his wolf-skin shield above his head,He dropped his spear and took his bow instead.

He drew and loosed to pin Piran’s strong handAgainst the shield he raised to make his stand.

Four shafts he shot against Piran’s proud crown;They failed to harm that chief of dread renown.

Three more he shot against the chieftain’s steed,With points to pierce through jowshans in war’s need.

No wound appeared on rider or on horse;Then Giv’s companions sped to him in force.

When Piran saw, his heart with fury burned;He charged at Giv, to fierce assault returned.

He sought to wound Giv’s body, break his frame,And rout the army that behind him came.

Giv wheeled like smoke and thrust his spear on high,And swept Piran’s helm off beneath the sky.

Yet harmed him not nor laid the warrior low;Giv’s heart grew troubled by that fruitless blow.

Bijan approached his father in the fight,And said, “O famed one, blessed with fortune’s light,

I heard our monarch say that old PiranWould fight in many battles for Turan.

From many dragons’ sharp and clutching hold,He shall escape in battle, as foretold.

Yet at the last Gudarz will take his breath;He is reserved for that appointed death.

So strive no more: his destined hour is far;Why seek to force the secret of his star?”