Book C4The Final Afrasiab Wars and the Disappearance of Kay Khosrow

God bless the Shah, the pride of crown and throne,Whose signet takes its glory from his own.

He holds the treasures; he commands renown;Both wealth and fame attend his royal crown.

His are the sword and armor for the fight;His is the toil that tests a warrior’s might.

His treasury groans beneath his bounty’s claim,While majesty grows brighter through his name.

From sea to sea the armies obey his call,The glory of his crown is over all.

No gold lies hidden deep in any stone,That has not made his boundless bounty known.

With God to aid him toward his chosen ends,He despoiled his foes and enriched his friends.

At feasts he scattered treasure with delight;In war he bore the toil of bitter fight.

He brings the boughs of faith and thought to fruit,And knowledge feeds his wisdom at the root.

His prudent thought keeps injury away;His refuge is in God from day to day.

When with his sharp sword he subdued the land,He raised the Day of Doom on every hand.

With jewel-scattering hand or sword in fight,He sought a lasting name, his sole delight:

That heaven praise him: at the feast, a sea;In war, a sun-faced lion, fierce and free.

Earth and its waters bear their witness trueTo deeds no former king could ever do.

The sun, the fount of light in heaven’s height,Bears witness to his valor in the fight.

No Shah has matched his gifts, his toil, his fame,His deeds in war, his sense of praise and blame.

If mercy did not keep his wrath at bay,His anger would drive frightened stars away.

Strong-framed, he packs his ranks in such array,That even winds can find no open way.

Seven hundred elephants of mighty sizeBring up his army’s rear before all eyes.

God and Gabriel stand beside his reign;He takes due tribute from each realm and plain.

Whoever will not pay the tribute downMust yield his land and treasure, throne and crown.

Who dares break faith with him, or would despiseThe word that binds his subjects with its ties?

The world’s high throne is radiant with his light;A mountain clad in jowshan, firm in fight.

Abul-Qasim, the brave, whose hand can drawThe wild ass from the lion’s gripping claw.

Great Mahmud, who brings mighty chieftains down,And grinds their heads to dust beneath his crown.

While earth endures, may he be Shah on high;May his star crown the moon in heaven’s sky.

He is the ornament of heaven’s height;At feasts, a cloud that rains down gifts outright.

His wisdom, justice, and good name are spread;May earth not lack his crown, his royal head.

His are the armies, heart, and treasure stored,The ministers, war, wine, and festive board.

Across the world a single carpet lies,His sign upon it never fades or dies.

Upon that carpet, seat and rest are laid;For Fazl, son of Ahmad, they are made.

He gives the state its peace, its sure repose,From him the wisdom of its nobles flows.

A man of justice, prudence, godly fear;No former Shah possessed a peer so near.

Open in speech and heart, and clean of hand,He serves his God and king throughout the land.

With such a wise, upright vizier and friend,My far-extending labor reached its end.

I shaped this story from the ancient store,Selected from the book of men of lore.

That in old age the work might bear me fruit,A crown, bright coins, and honorable repute.

Yet no great lord of bounty could be shown,To lend fresh luster to the royal throne.

I waited for a generous king to be,Whose bounty’s door would never need a key.

A guardian of faith and royal right,To make the ivory throne more fair and bright.

Strong in the battles of the brave, astuteIn weighing cause and reason in dispute.

Thus sixty-five long years had passed awayIn poverty and toil from day to day.

When five years past my sixtieth had sped,At sixty-six, I reeled with drunken tread.

My cheeks, once tulip-red, grew pale as straw;In that changed hue the work of age I saw.

My hair, once musk-black, turned to camphor-white;Its darkness yielded to that pallid light.

My upright body bent as age came on,And from my eyes their former light was gone.

When I was fifty-eight, my youth was spent;I grew more feeble as the seasons went.

I heard a proclamation far and wide;My mind and body cast their cares aside.

“See bright-souled Fereydoon arise once more,With earth and time as servants at his door.

By justice and by largess he has wonThe world and stands above each royal son.

Bright are the records of his earlier day;May root and stock endure without decay.”

Since that proclamation reached my heart,My ears from that high call would never part.

Beneath his lofty name I built my tale;May his rule over all the world prevail.

For he, the lord of sword and crown, will aidMy age, now youth and all its strength must fade.

I ask of God, exalted, just, and still,To guard me long from grief and mortal ill,

That in the Shah’s great name I may tell more,Omitting nothing from the ancient lore.

Then let my worthless body turn to dust,My soul return to its pure source, I trust.

The righteous judge, the bounteous lord of earth,In whom the world beholds all kinds of worth,

The lord of Chin, the lord of Hindustan,The lord of Iran and the lord of Turan,

The lord of splendor and exalted aim,Beyond the reach of calumny and blame,

Whose voice can split the mountains, rock by rock,And make their stony masses reel with shock,

Whose voice rends nahangs deep within the sea,And leaves no leopard on the land wound-free,

Great Mahmud, radiant sun of royal light,A lion with a scimitar in fight,

Will free me from all want beneath the sky,And set my name among the nobles high.

Forever may his throne endure, and stillMay fortune turn according to his will.

At feasts he counts his dinars as mere clay;He feels no fear when giving them away.

Bold is the man who dares to praise him here;And if he does, who dares to lend an ear?

Beyond all thought and power, the Shah shines bright,Like Jupiter’s own crown of royal light.

I bore, O king, the yoke of servitude,To leave some deathless sign of gratitude.

The homes where men of this day dwell and stayWill sink through sun and shower into decay.

I built a lofty palace out of song;No wind or rain can do its fabric wrong.

As years pass over this my written tale,Each wise man reading it shall bless and hail

The mighty Shah, and say: “May no one seeHis royal throne without him, bright and free.”

His own achievements celebrate his name,And all the world bears witness to his fame.

For me, I cannot offer praise complete,But I will laud the dust beneath his feet.

May this age live for him alone; and mayHis throne shine bright with wisdom’s guiding ray.

As merry be his heart as joyful spring;May time no injury to his person bring.

May he be all his people’s hearts’ delight,Victorious, with speech of sovereign might.

So long as heaven circles in its flight,And stars pass through its turning vault of light,

May he continue crowned with grace and pride,With want and evil eyes all turned aside.

I now resume the ancient tale I know,From faithful old traditions long ago.

When I recall the turns of passing years,I need no teacher’s counsel in my ears.

The combats of Kay Khosrow rise ahead;Hear now the magic words my craft has spread.

For I shall shower pearls as I recite,And plant my tulips among rocks in light.

Now from this story I weave fresh brocade,Its soul already found, its pattern laid.

O you who set your eyes on life’s long stage,Joy sometimes fills you, sometimes grief and rage.

Beneath this azure dome, how strange the woeThat keeps the heart in wounds with every blow.

One man’s portion is all honey-sweet,With ease, indulgence, fortune at his feet.

Another’s lot through life is grief and pain,His heart is straitened in this brief domain.

Another walks along a treacherous way,Now raised high, now cast into dismay.

Such nurture we receive from fortune’s bower;The thorn brings greater pain than joy the flower.

At sixty years the hand should grasp no more;Its hunger ought to leave the worldly store.

Few men pass seventy; long years have shownThe turning heaven’s ways that I have known.

And if they pass that age, worse years appear;Such life deserves the tribute of a tear.

If sixty years were but a fishing net,The wise could find a way to freedom yet.

But none escapes the heavens as they run,Or Him who made the moon, the day, the sun.

A king may toil, pursue revenge in pride,And boast of all his treasures far and wide.

Yet he must pass into another sphere,And leave the fruits of all his labors here.

Take Kay Khosrow’s deeds to judge the rest;Renew the ancient world within your breast.

Through alchemy, through cunning and the blade,His mother’s father for the murder paid.

He slew his grandfather, but did not stay;The world, too, cast his royal writ away.

Such is the custom of this fleeting sphere;Strive to keep suffering from drawing near.

When old Gudarz and Piran’s war had ceased,The conquering Shah prepared, his force increased.

The chiefs with countless troops came from each side,And marched in ranks that spread out far and wide.

The karnays blared out, summoning the band;They pitched the royal tents across the land.

Upon an elephant they set a throneOf turquoise, bright as heaven’s jeweled stone.

The world grew dark as indigo that day;The Shah sat crowned above the great array.

From plain and court the shouts of triumph rose;No room remained for movement or repose.

Upon his elephant, the Shah of mightStruck ball in bowl to summon men to fight.

Then round his waist he drew the warrior’s band,And girt himself for battle and command.

No ruler now could linger far away;Each had to come before the Shah’s array.

Such was the ordinance the monarch laid,And all the realm obeyed the word he made.

To frontier lands his troops had gone before,With counsel and instructions for the war.

Lohrasp and Ashkash, mighty in the fight,Could drag nahangs from ocean depths to light.

And far-famed Rostam, generous and great,His spirit bright, a champion of the state.

Those he had charged and sent to guard the landWere summoned back by his commanding hand.

He opened up the treasury, paid each man,And blessed his father’s soul as war began.

He chose three men of judgment from the throng,Clear-hearted speakers, keen in battle, strong:

First Rostam, matchless Pahlevan in might,And old Gudarz, the Wolf, of piercing sight;

Then Tus, the golden-booted, highly praised,Who bore the standard Kaveh once had raised.

He told them, “Noble chiefs of honored name,Whose birth and rank uphold your lasting fame,

You hold such rank and honor in my sight,As none could dream of in his sleep at night.

You three must take three roads and watch the foe;Guard all our troops wherever they may go.

I shall deny Afrasiab all rest,No ease by day, no sleep shall soothe his breast.

From every province I shall call my might,And end this war and vengeance through the fight.”

He chose wise envoys, seasoned, shrewd, and strong,To bear his royal message far along.

In Pahlavi they wrote to chiefs of fame,And every lord who held a sovereign claim:

“From elephant-back, the ball rang clear and high;The world grew dark as indigo’s deep dye.

Let neither rest nor sleep detain your hand;Prepare against Afrasiab as planned.”

When leaders of the realm had read his word,A shout from all the world’s great warriors stirred.

The earth began to heave in restless motion,As though the plain had turned to storming ocean.

From every province chieftains took the road,And marched to court beneath their martial load.

From every land, beneath each chief of name,An army ready for the battle came.

With watchful eye the Shah rode round each rank,And set each force in place from flank to flank.

He chose out thirty thousand horsemen, bold,Sword-drawing men, whose fame was widely told.

These formed with him the center of the fight,Their hands washed clean in blood for battle’s might.

The Shah set Tus upon one side to stand,With Manushan and wise Khuzan in command.

Both kings in Pars, with golden helms arrayed,Stood firm beneath the royal order laid.

One led the Khuzians, a chieftain bold,With fortune at his side, his realm to hold.

One ruled Kerman, and when the battle came,No thought of lingering could check his flame.

Beyond them Arash, blazing in the fight,And King Guran, the army’s shining light.

Came Sabbah, Yemen’s king, a wary man,And lion-hearted Iraj, vast of span.

He ruled Kabul, a sovereign and sage,Wise in his heart and mighty in his age.

Shammakh, the king of Sur, stood armed to faceThe clash of battle, belt secured in place.

Below him Giva stood, a warrior tried,Who shattered armies, victory at his side.

He ruled Khavar, a sovereign wise and just,With piety in heart and God his trust.

All those descended from Kay Qobad’s line,Great men of birth and understanding fine,

The Shah set on his left, where DilafruzWas charged to rank the warriors he would choose.

The chiefs of Zariran’s line could raise on highTheir swords through clouds that crossed the midnight sky.

Bijan, Giv’s son, and Rohham, known to fame,Were counted by the Shah as chiefs of name.

Gorgin, Milad’s son, with Rey’s full band,Marched as the Shah had given his command.

The scions of Zarasp, of honored race,Stood with the others in their ordered place.

They served with reverence the blessed flame,Azargashasp, and honored its great name.

Behind the Shah they kept their guard with spears,Sharp enough to pierce the cloudy spheres.

He placed the right wing under Rostam’s hand,Whose single strength no army could withstand.

The chiefs and kin of Zal, from every side,Stood on the right in armor, rank, and pride.

With all Zabul, they held the right in might;The Shah sought fame and order for the fight.

For his left wing he chose a radiant line,Like Aries’ sun, in martial light to shine.

Gudarz, son of Keshvad, led that array,With Hajir and Farhad prepared for fray.

The chiefs from Barda and from ArdabilStood ranked before the Shah in gleaming steel.

They asked that Gudarz take his place as head,And on the left their ordered squadrons spread.

Before the center he commanded thenThat elephants should hold the road for men.

They set the fighting towers on each beast;The earth, like Nile’s great sea, its surge increased.

Within the towers stood archers trained to kill,Thousands whose volleys answered to their will.

Three hundred mounted warriors stood aroundEach elephant, a strong protective bound.

Baghdad’s warriors marched with Zangeh’s train,Son of Shavaran, master of the plain.

Picked men of Karkh, with arbalists arrayed,Were set before the elephants displayed.

If mountains stood two farsang off in sight,Their arrows pierced the stone with deadly might.

No man could ward the force of such a blow,Or stand against the bolts their bows let go.

Behind the beasts, the footmen formed a wall,With nine-rash tall spears advanced before them all.

Before them stood their Gilan shields in line,Their livers’ blood boiled hot at battle’s sign.

Behind the spearmen, archers held their place,With shields, and shafts that pierced the jowshan’s embrace.

Behind came horsemen, warriors strong and keen,Their quivers packed with poplar shafts were seen.

From Khavar’s army Khosrow chose for fightFull thirty thousand chiefs and men of might.

With armor, shields, and Roman helms of steel,They stood prepared for battle, head to heel.

He made brave Fariborz their chief and guide,With Tukhar, king of Dehestan, beside.

Tukhar, who scorned his foes in every deed,Was noble Dashma’s powerful royal seed.

Beside brave Fariborz stood wise Nastooh,With chosen warriors, steadfast, tried, and true.

The desert chiefs and men of battle craftCame from Bedouin sands with spear and shaft.

All served beneath fierce Zahir’s stern command,Who snatched gazelles from lions in the sand.

He sent him then to stand beside Nastooh,And strengthen all the left wing through and through.

From Rum and Barbaristan soldiers pressed,And Lashkaristan led them with the rest.

Full thirty thousand foot and horse drew near,And joined the royal left in ordered gear.

From Khorasan more warriors joined the tide,Who sought the world, as judges keen, clear-eyed.

Their guardian, a chief of lasting fame,Was Manuchehr, son of Arash, great in name.

Of Kurukhan’s line a noble chief drew near,From Kay Qobad’s royal seed, without a peer.

His name was King Firuz, a shining light,The camp’s bright heart and splendor in the fight.

He ruled Garcha, and like a lion bold,Could bring great elephants beneath his hold.

The Shah, by Manuchehr’s decree, assignedTheir posts, and chose a chief of their own kind.

From Mount Kaf came mighty men in pride,With spears and swords and boasts on every side.

Of Jamshid’s and Fereydoon’s royal stem,They grieved for what Zadeshm’s line wrought on them.

Khosrow chose thirty thousand swordsmen, bredOf royal seed, bold men with warlike tread.

He gave that force to Giv, Gudarz’s heir,Whose name brought joy to frontiers everywhere.

Behind Giv, Yava Simkan came along,With princes and great warriors in his throng.

His warriors all were brave, alert, and wise,With watchful hearts and battle in their eyes.

Ten thousand khanjar-bearing horsemen brightThe Shah dispatched to strengthen all the right.

Ten thousand more behind Gudarz were placed,Brave men who many bitter wars had faced.

The swordsman Borteh with his mountain band,Marched in that throng to strengthen Giv’s command.

A force of gallant chiefs, erect and brave,Stood ready, Giv from danger there to save.

The Shah sent thirty thousand toward the left,Picked horsemen who in every arm were deft.

Zavareh led those warriors to the fray,All eager for the work of war that day.

He chose ten thousand spearmen, men of name,And set them in their ranks when battle came.

Before them Gharan stood in martial might,The chief of all those men renowned in fight.

Between the facing armies he would go,A champion seeking battle with the foe.

To Gostaham, brave Gazhdaham’s own son,He said: “Stay close to Gharan till war is done.”

He bade Darman, Tus’s son, to ride round,With karnay and with koust across the ground.

He must restrain the godless hands that preyOn others and forbid their lawless way.

No man should lack the food that kept him strong;Nor should the powerful do the weaker wrong.

Whatever men required, he asked the throne,And made the army’s needs and wishes known.

The world was full of wagons; buffaloesWere driven on for food as need arose.

The Shah set scouts on every side to keepTheir watch and roused the drowsy men from sleep.

His knowing agents went through every land,And sought out news to serve the king’s command.

On every mountain lookouts took their stand;He kept his army gathered as one band.

Through mountain paths and caves the monarch went,To watch his army was his firm intent.

Across the plains and deserts, all aroundHis army, he surveyed the open ground.

The reins were interlocked throughout the train;All raised their heads for war upon the plain.

No fear or hardship troubled those who went;The Shah brought treasure with his armament.

Thus, when the Shah had set his ranks for fight,He raised his royal crown to heaven’s height.

Both men of kindly heart and men of illDesired but war, united in one will.

Beyond the Chakh, the king, his ease complete,Sat in his splendor on his ivory seat.

At Gulzaryun sat his chosen band,Proud chiefs and slayers gathered at his hand.

Two million men stood ready in his train,With all the arms of war upon the plain.

Whatever grew throughout Kroshan’s domain,The leaves of trees, the harvest and the grain,

The troops consumed the fruit and harvest’s store;The ravaged world desired to live no more.

At Baikand stood the Turkish king’s high seat,With kin and allies gathered at his feet.

From Chin and far Machin the chieftains came,And camped in Kashani, all men of fame.

Camp-walls and tent-enclosures filled the plain,No room for man or beast could there remain.

Afrasiab, ambitious, wise, and deep,Remained at Kunduz, taking food and sleep.

He chose that place because, in ancient days,Great Fereydoon had raised its walls and ways.

There he had built a fire-temple, and placedThe Zand-Avesta there, in gold encased.

In Pahlavi, Kunduz had been its name,As ancient speech and chronicles proclaim.

Now Baikand was the name that men would say;The age was full of snares and fraud’s foul play.

Afrasiab sprang from Fereydoon’s line,And lingered in that seat of old design.

He camped there with his household on the plain,His army dazzled heaven’s bright domain.

His royal camp, with countless servants seen,Was made of Chin’s brocade in glittering sheen.

The inner tents were made of leopard hide,A custom sprung from Pashang’s ancient pride.

The royal tent contained a golden throne,With gems and golden ornaments that shone.

There sat the monarch on his golden seat,With gorz and crown, his majesty complete.

Outside, the chiefs’ great standards were displayed,Before the royal entrance, rank-arrayed.

The favored chiefs had pitched their tents to waitBefore the royal tent’s imposing gate.

His brother, sons, and kin of noble lineWere stationed near that royal tent’s design.

He meant to go himself to aid the fight,And bring Piran support with all his might.

At dawn a horseman, swift as air, came straightAnd told the Turkish king of Piran’s fate.

The wounded followed, weeping as they came,With dust upon their heads and hearts aflame.

Each told his tale of wounds and bitter harm,That Iran’s warriors wrought by force of arm.

They spoke of Piran, Lahhak, Farshidvard,And nobles slain while fighting long and hard.

They told how van and rear had fared that day,And how the field had turned their strength away.

That very day, Khosrow had reached the field;From mount to mount his mighty troops were wheeled.

“Our men have asked for quarter,” thus they cried;“The flock is shepherdless and terrified.”

The monarch heard and stood aghast with dread;His eyes and heart grew dark at what they said.

He came down wailing from the ivory seat,And cast his crown down at his chieftains’ feet.

A cry of anguish rose from all his men;The nobles’ cheeks grew pale with sorrow then.

They cleared the strangers from the royal tent,And for his kinsmen, all of them, they sent.

Afrasiab wept and tore his hair in pain,While tears streamed down his face like falling rain.

“O world-seeing one, my Ruyin,” he cried,“My noble horseman, once my strength and pride!

Lahhak and Farshidvard, my chiefs of might,My horsemen, who will ride no more to fight!

No son or brother now is left to stand;No chief, no army, no one to command!”

He mourned them thus, then changed in mood and breath,And sorrowed for his soldiers doomed to death.

He swore a mighty oath and breathed a sigh,Cold from his grief, while tears ran from his eye.

“By God, I cast off throne and royal pride;No crown shall on my head again abide.

My tunic, jowshan; throne, a horse shall be;A helm my crown, a spear my royal tree.

I wish no feast, no banquet, and no rest,Nor tend myself for crowns, in splendor dressed.

I seek but vengeance for my fallen band,My sword-bearing chiefs, the lions of my land.

On base-born Kay Khosrow my wrath shall fall;May Siavash’s seed be lost to all.”

While he bewailed those tidings, riders cried:“Kay Khosrow’s troops have reached the Jihun side.

The face of all the realm is filled with troops,With marching armies formed in ordered groups.”

In grief and wretchedness he called his powers,And spoke of Piran through the heavy hours.

He spoke of Ruyin, Farshidvard, and allThe horsemen who had perished in their fall.

“Now is the time for vengeance, blood, and might,With Giv and Rostam we must join the fight.

Love, pain, and vengeance fill my heart with flameAgainst Iran, whose king must bear the blame.”

With tearful eyes Turan’s great chieftains cried,And spoke to Afrasiab at his side:

“We are your servants; all obey your will,And bow before your counsel, faithful still.

Such men as Piran, Ruyin, shining bright,And Farshidvard, were never matched in fight.

Each one of us belongs to your command,Our lives and bodies ready in your hand.

Though hills and dales become a bloody sea,And hacked as short as wide our bodies be,

Not one of us will quit the battlefield,If God, the moon’s own Lord, will be our shield.”

At this the Turkish monarch’s heart revived;His mood returned, his royal self survived.

He paid the troops, his coffers opened wide;His heart was vengeance, and his head was pride.

The cattle on the mountains and the plainsWere granted out to strengthen warlike trains.

He chose a hundred thousand men of might,With swords and all the gear of bitter fight.

To shining Balkh he sent the armed array,With counsel and commands to guide their way.

Gostaham, son of Nohzar, held that ground,With horsemen wise, whose judgment there was sound.

He chose out thirty thousand Turkish men,All armed for war and loyal to him then.

He sent them to the Jihun, there to goBy boat across the river’s running flow,

Lest in the night, before they could prepare,A raid by boat should take them unaware.

He sent detachments out on every side,And many shrewd devices then he tried.

Yet God’s high ordinance had fixed his fall:That wrongful king would break beyond recall.

At night he sat in council with the wise,With priests whose prudence shone within their eyes.

They turned the earth’s affairs from side to side,And weighed the paths that prudence could provide.

At last they all agreed the king should goAcross the Jihun’s broad and running flow.

To counter all the evil foes might do,He split his army, making one force two.

He ordered Qarakhan, his eldest son,To come before him when the plan was done.

In valor, stature, counsel, look, and tone,He seemed his father’s image, flesh and bone.

The monarch gave him half the army’s might,Experienced men, the warriors proved in fight.

He bade him in Bukhara hold his ground,A mountain at his father’s back be found.

“Send arms and troops, a stream that has no end;And food on camels without ceasing send.”

He left Baikand and hastened to Jihun;His ranks along its banks were marshaled soon.

A thousand boats and skiffs were brought in train,To bear the troops across the watery plain.

For one full week the boats crossed to and fro,Till troops filled hill and plain in mighty show.

The river choked beneath the crossing hordes, With elephant trunks and spears and flashing swords.

The boats concealed the river’s streaming face;The troops moved toward Amuy’s desert place.

The king came last and crossed in wrath that day,Intent on battle with Iran’s array.

He sent swift camel-riders far and wide,Men shrewd and ardent, trained and battle-tried.

“Survey the country, both to left and right,And find a field to hold our army’s might.”

When all the scouts returned from every side,They spoke before the king of what they spied:

“These many troops engaged in this campaignNeed forage, water, rest, and level plain.

One road leads to the Sea of Gilan’s strand,With pasture for the steeds and camping land.

On this side flows the Jihun; down its tideWise men may bring provisions to our side.

Between them lie broad sands, a spacious placeWhere tents may stand with all a palace’s grace.”

The news refreshed the monarch’s anxious heart;He sought the royal camp to play his part.

Expert in war and skilled in high command,He needed no instructor’s guiding hand.

He ranged the center and the wings, then choseOutposts from which to watch the coming foes.

He fixed the rear, the baggage-train’s domain,And ranked the left and right across the plain.

He made a royal camp with measured art,And placed five score thousand men at its heart.

He chose his station, led his troops outright,And ranked his own formations for the fight.

Pashang, whose hands could match the leopard’s claws,Commanded on the right for Turan’s cause.

In all the ranks no peer to him was found,No horseman matched his skill on any ground.

He spurred his horse and caught the leopard’s tail,Then tore it off; his grip would never fail.

He held an iron spear with which, in fight,He pierced the mountain through with all his might.

His father called him Shideh, shining one,For he was like the bright and blazing sun.

To him the king committed for the fieldA hundred thousand chiefs who would not yield.

A brother, younger by one year, stood near,A prince whose stern regard could kindle fear.

His name was Jahan, valiant, proud, and bold;Throughout the world his warrior’s name was told.

A potent chief, his father’s trusted guide,Whose wisdom set all other men aside.

To him he gave full thirty thousand horse,All trained for war, a tried and ready force.

He placed the army’s left wing in his hand: “May fortune shine on you and your command.”

Then came the fourth son, girded for the fray,And stood before his father that same day.

His father gave him a hundred thousand horse,Turks of Chigil, a strong and seasoned force.

They guarded Shideh’s rear, a steadfast band,Though stones should rain from clouds upon the land.

To bold Kahila troops were then assigned,And fiercer Ila took his share in kind.

Ila, the world-king’s grandson, held his place,A warrior sprung from Afrasiab’s race.

He snatched his kabab from the lions’ backs,So fierce his hand, so mighty his attacks.

Both served Turan as horsemen, men of might,Each with a mountain’s heart, steadfast in fight.

He chose a force to hold the army’s right,So vast it hid the sun from mortal sight.

From Taraz, Ghuzz, and Khallokh riders pressed,Full thirty thousand, proved in battle’s test.

Their chief was Afrasiab’s fifth-born son,A chief whose fame through battle had been won.

They called that champion valiant Gordgir;His sword and shafts could pierce the mountain sheer.

Damur and Jaranjash marched in his train,To strengthen Jahan’s force upon the plain.

Another thirty thousand came to fight,Their battle-khanjars ready, keen and bright.

The veteran Nastooh held the chief command,With brave Pashang to guard that fighting band.

Then thirty thousand Turkish warriors came,With gorz and sword and bow, all fierce for fame.

Their chief was Bargiras, whose beard hung low,To touch the pommel of his saddle-bow.

Then forty thousand swordsmen, tried and strong,The king selected from the mighty throng.

Great Garsivaz, a warrior huge in frame,A chief who sought the world and warlike fame,

Received the elephants, the royal seat,The chiefs, and all the rear in ranks complete.

Then chose the king ten thousand, keen for strife,Whom war could never sate throughout their life.

He bade them stand between the ranks in might,Their mouths all foaming, eager for the fight,

Then range on horseback through the hostile lines,And break Iran’s brave hearts and snap their spines.

Their rear faced Bakhtar; night fell on the plain;They blocked the roads with elephants in train.

The world’s bright monarch spoke with royal might:“Toward Nimruz our army turns its sight.”

Kay Khosrow heard the news his spies had sentOf Afrasiab’s force and his intent.

He learned the king had crossed the river’s courseAnd camped upon this bank to face his force:

“A vast force crossed the Jihun in array,Till sand and stone lay hidden from the day.”

He called his warriors and declared the wordThat from his secret watchers he had heard.

He chose from all Iran’s most seasoned men,Whom fortune had proved time and time again,

To aid brave Gostaham of Nohzar’s lineAt Balkh, with steadfast hearts and stern design.

He bade Ashkash lead troops across the plain,With elephants and coin to Zam’s domain,

So no attack could strike the army’s rear,Or thwart the plans Iran’s great chiefs held dear.

He then commanded warriors to horse,The bronze tabira roared; he led his force.

He marched with counsel, slow and mindful yet,For haste in war brings nothing but regret.

Once in the desert, Khosrow viewed each line,Inspecting arms and men by his design.

Their route lay toward Khwarazm, where open sandsAnd plains were fit for strife of rival bands.

Dehestan lay left, the river right,With sands between, Afrasiab in sight.

With Rostam, Tus, and Giv, the Shah rode out;Gudarz and other chiefs were round about.

With noble warriors he surveyed the field,The roads and trackless ground, what each might yield.

He weighed the sight of his grandfather’s might,His mind intent on countless plans for fight.

He had not thought to meet so vast a train,Such elephants and warriors on the plain.

A trench enclosed his troops on every side,And scouts kept watch across the country wide.

At night he filled the trench with water ledAlong the side where stood the foe ahead.

When Sol shone bright from Aries in the sky,And gave the world its splendor from on high,

The Turkish chief reviewed his troops that day;A brazen karnay called them to array.

The world was filled with karnays’ ringing cries;They donned their iron helms beneath the skies.

The earth itself was iron everywhere,And spearpoints bristled through the crowded air.

Two days and nights the armies held their ground;No warrior moved his lips to make a sound.

The horsemen mounted firm on either side,The footmen formed before them, rank and wide.

The world became a mountain, iron-made;The heavens seemed in jowshans all arrayed.

Before the King and Shah seers drew near,With anxious minds and tables of the sphere.

With astrolabes they searched the turning sky,To learn on whom its favor now would lie.

But heaven watched the battle from on high;The baffled seers could offer no reply.

Upon the fourth day, when the strain was great,Brave Shideh came before his father’s state.

He said: “O famed throughout the world’s expanse,Most high of kings whom fortune will advance,

No king beneath the heavens is your peer;From sun or moon no malice need you fear.

An iron mountain, hearing your great name,Would run like water, loosened from its frame.

The earth can scarcely bear your mighty force;The sun grows dim before your helmet’s course.

No king would dare to face you as a foe,Except your base-born kinsman, Kay Khosrow.

Your kinsman, yes, yet false in stock and seed,Though bound by blood, unworthy in his deed.

You cherished Siavash with loving care,And bore the burdens fathers have to bear.

You would not let an evil wind draw nearTo touch the prince whom once you held so dear.

You turned from him when all his aims were known:He sought your troops, your crown, your royal throne.

Had you preserved his life by royal grace,Your crown and seal would soon have changed their place.

Now he has come against you in array;We must not linger long or court delay.

Whoever casts remembered good asideSeeks out the fate by which Siavash died.

You raised him with a father’s love and grace,And would not send him to death’s darkened place.

You reared him till to manhood he had grown;He left your love to seek the golden throne.

To Iran, like a bird, from you he flew,As though no bond had ever linked you two.

Look how Piran showed kindness to that chief,Who paid his love with slaughter, blood, and grief.

He cast aside Piran’s devoted claim,And filled his heart with vengeance, head with flame.

When kindly Piran fell into his grip,He took his life, no word upon his lip.

Now he has marched from Iran with his train,To strike his grandfather upon the plain.

He seeks no gold, no sword, no crown or throne,No horses, troops, or treasure of his own.

He aims at kindred lives; his whole intentIs blood, and all his boast is vengeance spent.

My father is a king of judgment high,And knows these words contain no trace of lie.

Why make so much of Iran’s strength today,And break our army’s heart with this dismay?

What need have armies now of starry lore?The brave win honor with the swords they bore.

The horsemen on the right all long to fight;With me they stand, one heart in battle’s might.

If you permit, I shall break Iran’s spine,And leave no warrior standing in their line.

My shafts shall pin each helmet to its face;No vaunting horseman shall remain in place.

Their trench and reservoir I do not fear;No dread of either checks my purpose here.”

Afrasiab replied: “Do not rush to fight;All that you say, my son, is just and right.

A king should heed no counsel but the truth;Yet think what Piran was, impetuous youth.

In this world Piran chose the righteous way;No fraud or falsehood led his heart astray.

He sought no path except the good and right,In war he bore an elephant’s great might.

His heart a sea, his face like sunlight glowed;His brother Houman, battle’s leopard, rode.

Lahhak was brave, and Farshidvard was strong;Their deaths have wrapped Turan in mourning long.

A hundred thousand Turkish horsemen came,Ambitious men, with spears that blazed like flame.

They rode out eager, battle in each breast;In secret now I grieve, by pain oppressed.

They perished there; the field was drowned in gore,Their blood soaked all the earth they trod before.

Turan’s broad marches groan beneath the pain;All men dream only of Piran the slain.

No tongue now speaks Afrasiab’s name aloud;All hearts are bent beneath that mourning cloud.

So let our famous men and chiefs remain,Until they see Iran upon the plain.

Let them first gaze upon Iran’s array,And grief and pain and wrath shall fade away.

Iranians too shall see our army’s might,Our treasure, thrones, and crowns laid out in sight.

It is not good to fight in force today;Defeat may come, and all our hopes betray.

We shall send single champions forth instead,And stain the field with blood of foemen dead.”

Then Shideh said: “If thus you seek the fight,Let me go first to prove a champion’s might.

I overthrow the steeds that face my ire,A brazen elephant in battle’s fire.

I know no man whose charger in the frayCould cast its dust upon my horse today.

I long for single combat with Khosrow,Because he is the new king men now know.

If he should come to meet me in the fight,He shall not slip my grasp or take to flight.

The heart and back of Iran both shall break,And all their hopes shall tremble in my wake.

If any other champion rides ahead,I soon shall lay him headlong with the dead.”

The king replied: “You have not learned war’s ways;Why should the king seek you on battle days?

I am his match, if combat he should claim;Beneath my feet shall fall his flesh and name.

If he should come to face me in the field,Both armies would set down the sword and shield.”

Then Shideh said: “O father, worldly-wise,If he should challenge you before our eyes,

Five living sons stand here; while we draw breath,We will not let you face the field of death.

No soldier, nor a man of faith, thinks rightThat you should be the first to seek the fight.”

Afrasiab addressed his son and prayed:“Imperious son, may fortune be your aid.

Though you would face Khosrow yourself in fight,Do not regard the deed as shame or slight.

Go to their ranks and ask that they provideA wise man who may hear you from their side.

Go forth, and may the Maker be your stay;May all your foes be overturned today.

Convey from me these words to Kay Khosrow:‘The world has other ways, as you should know.

A grandson bent to see his grandfather deadMust have a heart where guile and wrong are bred.

Such was the Maker’s will for earthly life:To fill the world with vengeance, war, and strife.

Siavash was not guiltless when he died;The turns of time had led his mind aside.

If mine the guilt, what wrong had Piran done,Or Ruyin, Lahhak, Farshidvard, each one?

Why were they bound on horses, drenched in gore,Like maddened elephants that charge and roar?

If you call me miscreant, dark of mind,Ahriman’s seed, and evil in my kind,

Remember that my blood runs in your veins;So every curse on me your own blood stains.

Leave Kay Kavus and old Gudarz the fight;Let them bring armies here to test my might.

I speak not thus because I fear your blade,Nor that old age has made my vigor fade.

My troops are like the sands along the shore,All mighty lions when the battles roar.

At my command, when battle fills the plain,They turn Mount Gang to sea with blood like rain.

Yet still I fear the Judge of earth and sky,The blood to spill, the noble heads to fly.

For many an innocent and noble headWill fall upon this field and join the dead.

If you refuse to turn and leave this place,Perhaps you fear retreat would bring disgrace.

But if you seal my terms with oaths held fast,And keep that pledge when wrath and fear are past,

I will reveal a path by which your train,Your troops and treasure, may be spared from pain.

Forget the blood of Siavash once shed,Let your grandfather rest in peace instead.

Let Jahan and brave Shideh brothers beTo you; in war they turn Mount Gang to sea.

I will command that all the Turks withdrawFrom all the lands Iran may claim by law.

The ancestral treasures held within my hand,The coins and crowns and thrones at my command,

The horses and the arms of every kind,And all the treasures Zadeshm left behind,

The thrones, the coronets, the royal hoard,The wealth your army needs shall be restored,

These I shall send to you in ordered flow,And let the gathered wealth to Iran go.

My son shall be your Pahlevan in war,And I your kinsman as I was before.

Then both great sides shall rest, their strife now past,And all our battle into feast be cast.

But if dark Ahriman corrupts your thought,And makes the shroud the garment you have sought,

If war and blood become your only aim,And my good counsel finds no room or claim,

Come forth from your own army to the plain;Perhaps the wish you cherish you shall gain.

Let us two meet while all our troops repose;Let neither side be wasted by its foes.

If I shall perish, all the world you win;My troops shall serve you, and my son your kin.

But if I slay you, none of yours shall bleed;Your men shall have safe quarter in their need.

Your soldiers shall be comrades, chiefs, and friends,And peace shall follow where this combat ends.

If you will not come forth, or if you fearTo face the veteran nahang with spear,

Then Shideh, girded, comes to meet your might;Delay no longer when he offers fight.

The father is old; his son holds him still,Young, wise, and strong, with glory, strength, and skill.

He will contend with you upon the plain,With leopard claws and courage free of stain.

Then we shall see whom fortune crowns with love,And who shall wear the crown bestowed above.

If you decline to meet him man to man,But choose another course, a prudent plan,

Then let the troops have rest throughout the night,And let the mountains wake with golden light.

When dark night draws its skirt from earth and sky,And hides its head as dawn begins to fly,

Let us choose warriors from either side,Men ranked with gorzes, proved in martial pride.

We shall make earth like brocade dyed with blood,And stretch our foes across the crimson mud.

The second day, when cocks proclaim the light,Let elephant tabiras call to fight.

Then let the chiefs reinforce every line,And make blood run like rivers dark as wine.

The third day both our armies, mountain-high,Shall join in war beneath the turning sky.

Then we shall see whom heaven crowns with might,And whom it grants the royal throne by right.’

If he refuses counsel that I send,Then challenge him yourself before the end.

Seek single combat on some distant ground,Far from the ranks where both our troops are found.”

Then Shideh chose four wise men for his train,Men proved in counsel, hardship, loss, and gain.

He bowed before his father and withdrew;His father wept as grief within him grew.

A thousand warriors escorted Shideh’s way,Discreet, well-armed, and ready for the day.

Soon scouts of Iran saw across the plainThe shining standard of the prince’s train.

But Turks within the vanguard, young and rash,Fell on the outposts in a sudden clash.

They shed the blood of Iran’s outpost men;Prince Shideh had not known their deed till then.

Some men of Iran suffered wounds; the clashSpread through the troops with weapons’ ring and crash.

When Shideh came himself upon the spot,He saw the outpost-guards where they had fought.

His heart was grieved; he called his warriors back,And turned them sharply from that wrongful track.

He told Iran’s outpost: “Send a rider straightTo ask the Shah to hear what I relate.

Say: ‘Shideh, ardent spirit, comes to bringA message he would share with Iran’s king,

From Afrasiab, Chin’s commander famed,Your mother’s father, by his kinship named.’”

A horseman galloped from the outpost then,And reached Khosrow in haste before his men.

He said: “An envoy from Turan draws near,A haughty horseman, sable flag on spear.

He names himself as Shideh, and would seekA man to whom his message he may speak.”

The Shah felt shame; hot tears began to riseAnd flow in sorrow from his stricken eyes.

“This is my mother’s brother,” Khosrow said,“My peer in stature, courage, heart, and head.”

He looked around and saw Gharan alone,Of Kaveh’s race, with heart and courage known.

He said: “Go forth and greet Prince Shideh, bringOur grace, and hear the message of his king.”

When Gharan reached the envoys on the plain,He saw the sable flag above their train.

He came to Shideh, courteous in greeting,And gave the Shah’s salute upon their meeting.

The young man answered him in honeyed speech,Bright-minded, shrewd, with wisdom in his reach.

He told what Afrasiab bade him say,Of peace and war and terms to end the fray.

When wise Gharan had heard the message through,He found its wording fair and counsel true.

He came and told the Shah the message heard;Sound counsel seemed to run through every word.

Khosrow then bade Gharan, his faithful guide,Return and bear this answer to their side:

“Our quarrel has grown stubborn through the years;Too long have words resounded in our ears.

A man of honor, warrior-born and brave,In war does not hang back his life to save.

I ask no treasure, no Turanian land,For none remains beneath time’s turning hand.

Now mark to whom Yazdan of moon and sunWill grant success before the day is done.

By God, the Maker, mighty and supreme,And by Kavus, whose crown is glory’s beam,

Who cherished me; I grant you no more hoursThan autumn’s tempest grants the fragile flowers.

As for the wealth you offered in your plea,The horses and the gold you promised me,

We need no wealth by tyranny amassed,For wrongful treasure never long can last.

The man who trusts in God has strength to bear;His heart and fortune smile beneath His care.

Your land and treasure, army, throne are mine,Your golden crown shall with my treasures shine.

Now Shideh, armed and ready for the fight,Has come and challenged me to prove his might.

At break of day I answer Shideh’s dare,And with my khanjar scatter heads in air.

No chief of Iran shall be sent by meTo meet him where the field of strife shall be.

The field and sword are mine to share with him,Until I make his day and fortune dim.

If I prevail and strike Prince Shideh dead,I shall not wait the days that you have said.

Our champions then shall clash on either side,Until the plain with blood is crimson-dyed.

Then afterward our troops shall march in mass,Like mountains moving over field and grass.

When you have spoken thus, add this farewellTo Shideh, proud in all he dares foretell:

‘O foolish, glory-seeking, haughty chief,You came alone into the net of grief.

Not for your father’s message came you here;Your evil deeds have brought your ending near.

Yazdan of all has driven you here to die;Your shroud and grave beneath this plain shall lie.

This doom repays that guiltless head laid low,Struck like a sheep beneath the murderer’s blow.

Your father shall lament your fallen head,As Kay Kavus still mourns his guiltless dead.’”

Gharan went quickly from the Shah’s command,And drew toward Shideh’s sable-bannered band.

He spoke Khosrow’s whole message, plain and bold,Withholding nothing that the Shah had told.

Then Shideh, with his heart consumed by fire,Returned and told his father Khosrow’s ire.

The monarch darkened, heaved a heavy sigh,Remembering his dream of days gone by.

The secret dream he long had kept concealedNow shook his heart; its warning stood revealed.

His head reeled, and his heart was seized with fear;He knew the straits of ruin now were near.

The king said: “Tomorrow ants shall treadNo path across this field, so thick the dead.”

The monarch said: “My son, from break of day,For two days keep all thoughts of war away.

This battle breaks my heart; I cannot rest,And long to tear that heart out of my breast.”

Said Shideh: “King of Chin and Turan, hear:Let no despair upon this day draw near.

Tomorrow, when the sun’s bright flag unfurls,And light across the violet heavens swirls,

Khosrow and I shall meet upon the plain;I shall raise black dust from him in war’s train.”

When azure heaven’s veil grew bright with light,The world shone topaz to the waking sight.

Then Shideh mounted on his battle-steed,His youthful heart aflame with wrath and speed.

He buckled shining armor to his breast,And on his head an iron helmet pressed.

A Turkish warrior bore his banner high,And Shideh rode beneath it, fierce of eye.

When he drew near the Shah of Iran’s ground,A noble hurried with the news he found:

“A rider has come out between the lines,With sword in hand, where battle’s fury shines.

He says: ‘Tell Khosrow I have come to fight;Prince Shideh waits to meet his royal might.’”

The monarch laughed; he called for jowshan, helm,And raised his royal standard for the realm.

He set a golden helmet on his head,And gave Rohham the royal flag to spread.

But all his soldiers were distressed and cried,As though fierce fire consumed them from inside.

A cry rose from the ranks: “O Shah, we pray,Let iron not wear your sacred flesh away.

The throne has always been the monarch’s seat;Who girded you, a vengeful foe to meet?

May he for whom you arm yourself just nowBe laid in dust with broken aim and vow.”

In jowshan, helm, and gorz the king stood tall,And hailed his troops with greeting: “Warriors all!”

“Let no man quit his post on left or right,Nor center, wing, or station in the fight.

No man shall seek a skirmish on the plain;Heed Gudarz’s son Rohham and hold your rein.

When high above the sun begins to shine,Observe on whom disaster sets its sign.

If Shideh proves the conqueror in the fight,Then look to Rostam for command and light.

Obey him fully when his orders fall;In grief and danger, keep him near you all.

For troops beneath the eye of such a manMay meet war’s craft and foil its darkest plan.

Let not your hearts be narrowed or dismayed;War has its rise and fall, its shine and shade.

At times it brings rejoicing, times despair;So hold your stations, and your hearts prepare.”

He urged Behzad, his charger black as night;The wind fell back before his headlong flight.

Khosrow, in breastplate, helm, and lance arrayed,Raised clouds of dust along the path he made.

When Shideh saw the Shah upon the plain,A cold sigh rose from deep within his pain:

“You are the son of Siavash, renownedFor wisdom and for judgment firm and sound.

You are the grandson of Turan’s great king,Whose helmet grazes where the moonbeams cling.

You are not what a man of seasoned mindWould once have thought that he should live to find.

If judgment lived in either heart or head,You would not seek your mother’s brother dead.

If you desire combat, leave your men;Choose distant ground beyond the armies then.

No army’s eye shall watch where we shall be;We need no helper there, just you and me.”

The Shah replied: “O lion fierce in fight,My father’s loss still keeps my grief alight.

I am the son of him your king struck dead;Of Siavash, whose guiltless blood was shed.

I came for vengeance to this field of pain,No throne or signet drew me to this plain.

Since from your father’s presence you set out,And challenged me to prove my worth past doubt,

I may not send a lesser man instead;The royal answer rests upon my head.

Now choose the distant ground where we shall fight,Far from both armies and beyond their sight.”

They made a pact that none from either sideWould join the combat or disturb its tide.

The standard-bearers only would draw near,And each remain secure and free from fear.

They rode away, their eagerness increased,Like joyful men who journey to a feast.

It lay within Khwarazm’s open plain,A fitting place for warriors’ fierce campaign.

They reached dry rocks where lions would not tread,Nor leopards set their claws upon that bed.

No eagle crossed that region in its flight;Part rock, part mirage shimmered in the light.

There those two warriors, wolf-like in their ire,With steeds beside them marked the field of fire.

Like hungry lions on the day of chase,They wheeled with lances in a furious race.

Round after round they drove with ruthless force,Till noon stood high above each foaming horse.

No lancehead lasted through that fierce campaign;Sweat soaked the bargostvans and bridle-rein.

With Roman gorzes and with swords they clashed;Each met the other as their weapons crashed.

Their blows made earth grow black with blood they spilled;Yet neither found his lust for battle stilled.

When Shideh saw Khosrow’s surpassing might,Tears streaked his cheeks before that royal sight.

He knew the farr that God had given him,And wept to think his peril was so grim.

His steed was failing, parched with thirst and heat,And strength was ebbing from his hands and feet.

Exhausted, he considered in his mindWhat cunning plan might leave this conflict behind.

“What if I say, ‘Dismount; let us contendIn wrestling, drenched with sweat before the end’?

He may refuse, from royal pride, to standDismounted with me, equals, hand to hand.

Unless this shrewd ploy can now end the fight,I face the dragon’s jaws and deadly bite.”

He said: “All warriors fight with sword and lance,And wheel their horses in the mounted dance.

But let us, Shah, contend upon our feet,And stretch our hands like lions when they meet.”

Khosrow perceived the purpose of his foe,And knew what hidden thought had shaped it so.

He thought: “If this strong lion pauses strife,A moment’s rest may bring his strength to life.

Of Fereydoon and Pashang’s royal race,He could make many brave hearts fear his face.

Yet if I fight afoot with him today,It may go hard for all Iran’s array.”

Then Rohham, standing near, addressed the crown:“Do not disgrace your birth by stepping down.

If Khosrow must fight on foot, on his own,Why do these mounted champions guard his throne?

If any man must set foot on the ground,Let me, from Keshvad’s line, accept this round.

Let me go out to meet him in the fray,Not you, whose royal will all lands obey.”

The Shah replied: “O Pahlevan, now hear,Brave horseman, trusted friend, whom I hold dear,

Shideh will never turn to fight with you;He springs from Pashang, royal-born and true.

Nor have you strength enough to meet his hand;No Turkish chief like him adorns their land.

A warrior sprung from Fereydoon’s own seed;No mother bore his equal, brave in deed.

It is no shame to meet him in the fight;Afoot we shall contend with leopards’ might.”

Upon the other side his herald cried:“O Shideh, turn from danger, turn aside.

No other course remains except retreat;You cannot stand when you and Khosrow meet.

To flee in time from foes upon the plainIs better than to stay and meet the slain.”

Then Shideh told his herald, firm in pride:“The deeds of fighting men no one can hide.

Since first I armed myself to take the field,My head has reached the sun, too proud to yield.

I have not seen a warrior with such farr,Such strength and skill, beneath whatever star.

Yet once I enter battle, I shall braveDeath rather than retreat; I choose the grave.

Though on a dragon’s very eye I tread,I cannot turn the heavens from my head.

If he must slay me here, no friend or foeCan ward from me that fate-appointed blow.

I cannot tell what gives him strength so great;God’s farr attends him in his royal state.

Perhaps on foot I still can make him yieldAnd send his blood in streams across the field.”

Then Khosrow answered Shideh on the plain:“O famed descendant of a noble strain,

No man of Kayanian blood has foughtAfoot, whatever battle he has sought.

Yet if this is your wish, then let it be;I shall not turn my rein from your decree.”

The Shah dismounted from his night-dark steed,And bared his head, intent upon the deed.

He gave Rohham the noble charger’s rein,Then strode like holy fire across the plain.

When Shideh saw Khosrow come on apace,He left his steed and met him face to face.

Like elephants they grappled, locked and bound,And blood was mingled with the trampled ground.

When Shideh saw Khosrow’s commanding frame,And God’s own farr that clothed his royal name,

He sought some crafty means by which to flee;Once gone the head, what could the body be?

Khosrow perceived his thought, though none was said,And moved with God’s own strength in hand and head.

He sprang upon him like a lion boldThat seizes on a gur within its hold.

Left hand on neck, his right upon the back,He raised and hurled him down with fierce attack.

His backbone broke like reeds beneath the strain;His sinews snapped, undone by crushing pain.

Then drawing forth his sharp and tempered blade,He pierced the heart that armor could not aid.

He tore the jowshan, grieving for the dead,Cast handfuls of the dust upon his head.

To Rohham: “This ill-omened chief,” he cried,“My mother’s valiant brother, now has died.

Treat him with kindness, though his life is done;Prepare a royal tomb for this king’s son.

With musk, rosewater, fragrant balm, be sureTo wash his flesh; his head with camphor pure.

A golden torque around his neck shall rest;With ambergris his cap shall then be dressed.”

His interpreter looked toward the plain,And saw the body of the prince lie slain.

They raised him blood-stained from the stretch of sand,And bore him toward Khosrow’s awaiting band.

The interpreter drew near with cries of woe:“O just and glorious Shah, your mercy show.

A humble servant’s duty was my trade;No warrior’s hand or champion’s part I played.

O Shah, forgive me through your kindness here;May joy in you delight the heavenly sphere.”

Khosrow replied: “At my grandfather’s court,Make all you saw of me your full report.”

The nobles watched the road with anxious eyes:“When will Prince Shideh come?” arose their cries.

A rider sped across the yielding sand,Bareheaded, weeping, toward the royal band.

He told Afrasiab what had occurred,Concealing nothing of the deed or word.

The king despaired of all the world held dear,And tore his camphor-white locks in his fear.

He scattered dust upon his royal head;The army’s champion had departed, dead.

All those who saw the Turkish monarch’s faceBeat breasts and tore their robes in that sad place.

A cry arose among the ranks below:“The sun and moon their mercy now bestow!”

Then Afrasiab cried out in his grief:“No rest or sleep shall bring me more relief.

Stand as companions in this grief I bear;Let every man in all my mourning share.

Our swords shall stay unsheathed upon the plain;I shall know joy no more, but only pain.

Now arm yourselves; leave nothing whole or soundOf all Iran, its mountains and its ground.

Count him no man, but beast devoid of heart,Who does not mourn that Shideh must depart.

May eyes that shed no tears of blood with mineHave neither shame nor moisture left to shine.”

He mourned that warrior with his face of light,That cypress by the stream, so tall and bright.

He wept red tears, relentless in his pain,A grief no healer knew how to restrain.

The nobles answered, sharing all his woe,And spoke these words to soothe that bitter blow:

“May God, the just Judge, ease this grief for you,And fill your enemies with terror too.

Not one shall rest by night or breathe by day;For Shideh’s death, revenge shall find its way.

We shall raise war-cries till the heavens ring,And stake our heads in battle for the king.

The feud for Piran, Houman, scarcely past,Now vengeance upon vengeance gathers fast.”

Their hearts were broken for their monarch’s sake;The field with cries and tumult seemed to shake.

When Sol in Taurus lifted up his light,And larks were singing over plains grown bright,

The kousts rang out, resounding through the air,With horns and brazen karnays everywhere.

Then Jahan led thirty thousand swordsmen bold,Equipped for war, their hearts like tempered gold.

Khosrow beheld them and gave swift command;Gharan came forward with his veteran band.

He left the center, mountain-like in might,And wore brave Jahan down amid the fight.

Then Gostaham, brave son of Nohzar’s line,Rushed right, his battle-standard raised to shine.

The horsemen’s dust spread violet through the air;Below were troops, above them banners fair.

Khosrow stood firm within the center’s heart;Nor did Afrasiab from his center part.

A battle joined whose like no chief could tell,No warrior knew its equal, fierce and fell.

They slew so many of the Turkish band,A sea of blood spread out across the land.

Till darkness fell and sight began to fade,In helm and jowshan fought the lines arrayed.

When brave Gharan had won that bitter fray,The valiant Jahan’s fortune fell away.

When on the sun’s high throne the moon shone bright,The warriors then withdrew beneath the night.

Khosrow rejoiced in all Iran’s success,Whose warriors had prevailed in battle’s press.

All night they armed for battle; no reposeOr food was theirs until the sun arose.

When Sol from Cancer rose, the world grew rifeWith battle’s gathering roar and newborn strife.

The bands of both realms formed their lines to fight,And every lip foamed white with wrath and spite.

Khosrow, attended by a servant tried,Withdrew behind the rear and stepped aside.

He dismounted there and thanked the Maker’s grace,Then laid upon the darkened dust his face.

He said: “O Judge, all-holy, just, and true,The wrongs that I have borne are known to You.

For many days I bore the wrong he wrought;Requite in blood the suffering he brought.

Guide me, oppressed by tyranny and wrong,And let Your justice make my spirit strong.”

Then grief and vengeance set his heart aflame,His hatred fixed on those of Zadeshm’s name.

He reached the army’s center in his might,And set his gleaming helmet firm and tight.

The battle-cry arose; the horns replied,Tabiras and brazen karnays thundered wide.

The opposing forces marched like mountains vast,Troop after troop, as through the field they passed.

With Jahan and Afrasiab at its heart,The army seemed a sea in every part.

As both great armies marched across the ground,The hills and plains themselves seemed to be bound.

Dust and the eagle-feathered arrows’ flight,Their diamond points, concealed the sun from sight.

So loud the horns, so thick the dust that rose,So fierce the warriors’ cries against their foes,

Iron and rock and mountains seemed to flow;The nahang and the leopard melted so.

Earth heaved; the air was filled with crashing sound;The roar could split the ears of lions round.

The world seemed Ahriman’s from end to end;And heaven seemed an enemy, no friend.

And everywhere the slaughtered lay in heaps,Iran and Turan fallen where war reaps.

The sand was blood and severed hands and feet;Earth’s heart shook hard beneath the horses’ beat.

The open ground beneath the trampling forceSeemed linen stiff with blood beneath each horse.

Afrasiab’s warriors moved across the plain,Like ships that sail upon the rolling main.

They struck the archers’ towers, citadels high,That rode on elephants beneath the sky.

The beasts stood like a fortress in the way,Before the center of Iran’s array.

Within their towers the archers held their place,And met the coming warriors face to face.

A rain of arrows poured from tower and frame;The cries of battle rose as foemen came.

The spearmen and the elephants came on,With countless warriors from the center drawn.

Two farsang off, Afrasiab surveyedThe towered elephants, their ranks displayed.

He brought his own huge elephants ahead;The world grew dark; the last of light had fled.

He shouted: “Warriors of my royal side,Why crowd the beasts and press so close beside?

Your idle troops spread farsangs all around;Leave tower and elephant, take open ground.

Spread right and left, and widen out the fight;Withdraw beyond the center, left and right.”

He ordered Jahan, no novice in the fray,To leave his post and ride without delay.

With mighty men, ten thousand horse in all,All lancers armed and ready at his call,

Towrag, a warlike elephant in might,Sped left with noble warriors to the fight.

When Kay Khosrow perceived the Turks’ attack,And saw their dust turn all the sunlight black,

He turned to Samkunan and all his band,Those battle-lions fierce in heart and hand.

“Shine on the left like Sol in Aries bright,”He said, and sent them flashing into fight.

They rode forth with ten thousand noble men,Young lancers eager for the strife again.

He next bade Shammakh, Sur’s renowned king,Choose men from Iran’s ranks to form his wing.

“Select ten thousand armored men to wieldTheir ox-head gorzes on the battlefield.

Unsheathe your swords and press between their lines;Heed no man there; bend low where battle shines.”

The armies grappled, mingled in one throng,One mass, one mountain, locked in struggle long.

From either side there rose a crashing sound;Blood ran in streams across the trampled ground.

Dust rose on either side in clouds that spread;“Bring me my khaftan for war,” the Shah said.

They led aside the towered elephant train;The world became the Nile across the plain.

Then Rostam from the center rode ahead,And toward the tumult of the battle sped.

With him came Manushan and Khuzan bold,The army’s refuge when the battles rolled.

The karnay and the koust rang; on one handStood Tus beside the Shah in high command.

With Kaveh’s standard splendid to the sight,The golden-booted chiefs stood armed for fight.

They left their stations, hearts oppressed with pain,And formed the Shah’s left wing upon the plain.

Then Rostam and Zavareh faced the right,His brother at his side, prepared to smite.

Old Gudarz, son of Keshvad, brought support,With noble chiefs who formed his strong escort.

Zarasp and prudent Manushan came too,And strengthened Rostam’s wing with warriors true.

The din of war rose from the battlefield;No former fight such terrors had revealed.

The soil was strewn with dead and wounded men,Whose days of fortune would not come again.

No passage could be found across the plain,So thickly lay the bodies of the slain.

The desert, like the Jihun, ran with blood;One headless, one overturned, lay in that flood.

The cries of horse and rider from the fieldRose higher than the booming kousts could yield.

The mountains’ hearts seemed split by war within;Earth seemed to fly with horsemen in that din.

Here severed heads lay scattered all about;There headless trunks fell as the gorzes rang out.

The sun itself sought flight before the blade,Before the sword and falchion’s flashing shade.

A dark cloud seemed to gather on the plain,And shower down a storm of bloody rain.

Upon the left, Jaranjash’ life was done;He fell to Fariborz, King Kavus’s son.

Upon the right, Kahila, huge in might,Fell by Manushan’s blade amid the fight.

A hundred elephants in strength was he;Then wind and cloud rose southward, dark to see.

They covered up the sun; earth lost its light,And all men’s eyes grew dim amid that night.

As sunset leaned and shadows thickened near,The Turkish monarch’s heart was moved by fear.

From every kingdom, frontier, hill, and field,The horsemen pressed ahead with sword and shield.

Their jowshans, banners, differed to the sight;Red, yellow, violet filled the world with light.

When Garsivaz behind his brother stayed,He sent his troops through streams of blood to wade.

He sent a noble band upon the right,Men one in soul and body for the fight.

Another band he spread along the left,With chiefs on every side in warfare deft.

He held some forty thousand in his band,Chosen horsemen, swords at his command.

Then from behind the army he rode nearHis brother, pressing through the battle’s fear.

Afrasiab saw Garsivaz arrive,And strengthened, drove his army on to strive.

The battle roared; the air itself was veiled,As feathered shafts across the darkness sailed.

When darkness came behind the sinking sun,And day was almost night and nearly done,

False Garsivaz rushed toward the king in dread,And spoke these fearful words with lowered head:

“Who of our warriors still desires fight?The earth is blood, the air is dust and night.

Withdraw the army now that night is here;The Turks’ loud cries will soon assail your ear.

Your troops will leave you, scattering in flight;Do not contend against yourself tonight.”

The king’s heart seethed with anger at the word;So fierce his wrath, no counsel could be heard.

He spurred his charger from the troops’ array,His sable banner streaming on the way.

He slew Iran’s famed warriors in his track;Khosrow perceived and followed at his back.

Both king and shah pressed on with thin escort,Each bent on vengeance, seeking no support.

Yet Garsivaz and Jahan would not allowAfrasiab to face Iran’s Shah now.

They seized their monarch’s reins and turned his steed,Then hurried him toward Amuy at full speed.

As he withdrew, Ustukila came fast,To challenge Khosrow as the king rode past.

King Ila rushed, a nahang in the fight,And Burzuyala, eminent in might.

Three ruthless horsemen of the Turks were knownFor blood and battle, merciless as stone.

The Shah perceived them, spurred from out the throng,And charged, a mountain, resolute and strong.

He struck Ustukila with his long spear,And hurled him from the saddle, falling clear.

King Ila struck Khosrow upon the belt,But Khosrow’s breastplate turned the blow he dealt.

The spear could plant no terror in his heart;The Shah stood fearless, ready for his part.

When Khosrow saw his courage and his might,He drew his sharpened sword to end the fight.

He struck across King Ila’s waist and slew,And with that stroke he cut the man in two.

Then Burzuyala’s heart was seized with dread;He saw the force that laid his comrade dead.

He saw Khosrow’s great courage and the blow,And knew the strength and splendor of his foe.

He fled into the dark with trembling heart,As though his very skin were torn apart.

The troops beheld his prowess in the fight;No champion stood; they all gave way in flight.

That news to Afrasiab was death and dread;He wished he had faced Khosrow there instead.

When tidings of the Turks had reached his ear,His day seemed shortened, and his end drew near.

They left the field; he ordered men to cryHis challenge, loud beneath the darkened sky:

“This lion’s valor comes from sheltering night;Its narrow darkness makes me leave the fight.

If fortune’s wind has favored you today,And opened up the gates of joy your way,

When dawn brings light across the darkened plain,Behold my heart-rejoicing flag and train.

Then we shall drown Iran and veil the skies,Till sun seems Pleiades before your eyes.”

Both monarch and the Shah withdrew their train, And sought their camps across the darkened plain,

Each brooding on the blood already shed, And on the morrow’s vengeance overhead.

When half the dark of night had passed away,And heaven wheeled above the hills toward day,

The king packed up his baggage for the road,And helms and jowshans on his troops bestowed.

Ten thousand riders, at the king’s command,On steeds in bargostvan would guard the band.

Then Afrasiab told his troops that night:“Once I have crossed the river in our flight,

Come after me, each following the last,Across the Jihun, till you all have passed.”

From Amvi, when the dark had closed around,He crossed the river, fleeing, homeward bound.

On roads and trackless ground, on every side,The tents stood empty, scattered far and wide.

When dawn spread out its early morning light,The outposts saw no enemy in sight.

The scouts brought joyful tidings from the plain:“The Shah is spared this battle’s further strain.

We see the tents and all their ordered ground,But not one hostile rider can be found.”

Khosrow at once fell prostrate on the earth,And praised the Judge, Yazdan of holy worth.

He said: “O glorious Maker, Lord and Guide,Provider, Judge, whose justice none can hide,

You gave me farr, the crown, and strength to rise;You blinded all my foes in heart and eyes.

Now drive this tyrant from the earthly sphere,And keep him sick through all his years with fear.”

The sun raised up its golden shield of light;A turquoise veil concealed the head of night.

The royal Shah mounted the ivory throne,And donned the crown that made all hearts his own.

The army cried: “May long the Shah endure;May crown and state remain with him secure.”

The troops lacked nothing; booty filled the plain,Left by Afrasiab and all his train.

They cried, “Alas! His troops have slipped away,With all their horns and kousts in their array.

The famous monarch fled before the light,And safely slipped beyond our swords by night.”

The shrewd Shah said: “Chiefs of Iran, attend;Hear what I say of this encounter’s end:

An enemy lies slain, and that is good;Or flees the field where once his army stood.

Since God has granted us the royal crown,With greatness, farr, and sovereign renown,

Give thanks to Him in every place and hour,With ceaseless blessings raised before His power.

He makes whom He wills luckless in his need,And sets the worthless on the throne to lead.

Why strive or question what His will has planned?No slave can stand against His high command.

I shall remain here now for five days more;The sixth is Ormozd, blessed in sacred lore.

Upon the seventh, we shall take the road;He feeds the feud; we claim the vengeance owed.”

For five days on that battlefield they soughtThe men of Iran slain where they had fought.

They washed the dust from those whose lives had fled,And built a fitting tomb to house the dead.

Khosrow then called a ready scribe to hand,With paper, musk, and abir at command.

They wrote a letter from the battlefield,To tell Kavus what victory had revealed.

The letter first gave praise to God, whose willProvides our guidance through both good and ill.

Khosrow declared: “May my great monarch’s mightStand like the mountains, steadfast in their height.

He fears for me as though I were his son;May grief afflict his foes, each hostile one.

From fair Iran I reached Farab’s broad land;Three nights we fought three battles on its sand.

Afrasiab’s horsemen passed all count and lore,Beyond what dreaming sages knew before.

Three hundred severed heads I send as signs,From famed sepahbods of his battle lines.

His brother, son, and kinsmen met their end,With honored chiefs on whom he could depend.

Two hundred captive chiefs I send; in might,Each matched a hundred lions in the fight.

We fought upon Khwarazm’s open plain,And Heaven’s blessing crowned our hard campaign.

Afrasiab has fled; we press behind,To see what turn of fortune we shall find.”

With musk they sealed the letter as he planned;Then he passed on across the arid sand.

He said, “May blessings on this field abide,With lasting fortune ever at its side.”

Across the Jihun Afrasiab sped;Like rushing wind, across its flood he fled.

He reached Qarakhan’s army with his men;Each told what he had seen in battle then.

The Turkish king wept for his fallen kin;How deep the grief that wracked his heart within!

He mourned his son, his kinsmen, and his peers,His famous chiefs, with bitter, flowing tears.

A cry of anguish rose beneath the skies;Clouds seemed to rain blood from the lion’s eyes.

He lingered in Bukhara, sunk in woe,To wait for lions who would face the foe.

He called the great and haughty chiefs who stayed,The few survivors spared by battle’s blade.

Then all the army’s counselors drew near,The men whose prudent words the king would hear.

They spoke before their monarch in despair,Their hearts worn down by warfare’s heavy care:

“Our foremost men have passed from life away;Our hearts are sunk in mourning and dismay.

Of every hundred, scarcely twenty live;The dead command the tears our hearts can give.

We tore our hearts from treasure, child, and kin,And all the ties our hearts were rooted in.

Beyond the Jihun, at our king’s command,We made our field of battle on that land.

You know what folly brought us to this plight;You rule; we seek a way to set things right.

If now the monarch will accept our view,Withdraw toward Chakh; that course is best for you.

When Khosrow comes, his vengeance to pursue,Your army must its broken ranks renew.

If now the Shah will heed the course we show,Across the Gulzaryun his troops must go.

At Gang-Behesht, then take rest from all strain;There you may fight, or peacefully remain.”

No other plan was offered; all agreed,And chose this course to meet their pressing need.

Toward Gulzaryun they went, their eyes a flood,Their hearts within them filled with grief and blood.

Three days the Turkish king remained; he sought,With hawks and cheetahs, rest from anxious thought.

From there they made for Gang without delay;He made no lengthy halt along the way.

The city seemed a paradise to behold,Its clay was purest musk, its bricks were gold.

There, glad and smiling, he lay down to rest,As though with safety he were wholly blessed.

He summoned warriors in from every side,Great chiefs and potentates in martial pride.

Wine, harp and rabab, gardens full of flowers;Rose, hyacinth, and cup beguiled his hours.

He drank, while fate still hid its work from sight,And watched to learn what time would bring to light.

From every side, his secret agents came,And one by one their tidings were the same:

“Khosrow has crossed the Jihun with his train;His army now has reached the open plain.

See what you need, and make it ready here,Lest all at once his army should appear.”

When Kay Khosrow had crossed Jihun’s wide sweep,He lost all taste for food, repose, and sleep.

When all his troops had crossed the river’s flow,He sent this proclamation high and low:

“Let none be frightened as I pass this way;To holy God on my behalf now pray.”

He gave the poor rich treasure from his store;To those who pleased him, he gave even more.

He reached the marches of Sughd, wide and waste,A home for owls, by ruin long defaced.

Upon that land he lavished royal treasure,To make its ruins bloom with ease and pleasure.

Wherever he encamped, men sought his grace,And came to ask for safety in that place.

Then tidings reached Khosrow of Turan’s king,And of the troops he summoned to his wing:

“Baghzadila and Kakula now standBeside him with a lion-hearted band.

Descended from King Tur, with hate aflame,He sought the hour when war and battle came.

He sent to Chakh a force of high renown,Intent upon the Turks’ own throne and crown.

With Towrag at their head, a mighty bandOf warriors rode out through the desert sand.

They hold the road against the Iranian train,And mean to bar the passage through the plain.”

Khosrow was not disturbed; his thoughts were wise,And sober counsel ruled his watchful eyes.

From Barda and Ardabil troops drew near,All armed, obedient, and free from fear.

He bade the troops before his presence go,Chiefs, priests, and marzbans counted row by row.

They marched with Gostaham to lead the fight,Who faced the lions’ onset without fright.

He bade the men of Nimruz take the fieldWith Rostam, who made mighty warriors yield.

“Go forth on camels, leading every steed,And move unseen with secrecy and speed.

Make haste to where the hostile troops are found,And take them unawares when night comes round.”

The two crown-seeking champions left his side;One took the desert, one to Chakh would ride.

A month in Sughd the Shah remained in place,Amid a loyal people rich in grace.

He paid his troops and let their strength renew,While for the coming war his plans he drew.

He sought out men who knew the art of siege,And how to break a fortress for their liege.

He brought them in, their service to secure;The wicked found their rest would not endure.

He left that place, his head held high in pride,With loins girt fast and arms for war supplied.

From Sughd and Kashan forth the army came;The world was lost in wonder at his name.

The tidings reached the Turks: “The Shah is near;Khosrow, who seeks revenge, is coming here.”

Then all took refuge in their holds from dread;Through all the world, alarm and tumult spread.

The Shah addressed his men and plainly said:“Today a different law must guide our tread.

Those Turks who bow beneath our rule and might,And in their hearts regret the will to fight,

Do not attack them; let no blood be shed,And let no man by you be wrongly led.

But any man whose heart remains in hate,Who seeks with troops to fight and tempt his fate,

Against such foes, wherever they are found,You have my leave to spill blood on the ground.

Their goods are yours to plunder as you go;You have my leave to hang the hostile foe.”

Through Iran’s army rose a mighty cry;“Our Shah is free of spite!” was their reply.

“Let food pass freely; let all hatred cease,”The Shah declared. “Let all people be in peace.”

They turned deeper in Turan; troops were sent;The world rang out with tumult as they went.

Whoever bowed and did as he was toldWas left in peace by all the warriors bold.

Yet Turks, in dread of Afrasiab’s power,Denied the thirsty water in that hour.

If any soldier lagged behind the train,They found him headless, on the roadway slain.

The warriors went against the strongholds then,Against the holds of proud and warlike men.

They razed each fortress; nothing stood at all,No dwelling-place, no royal court or wall.

No slave or servant, herd or beast remained;No trace of all the wealth those holds contained.

A hundred farsangs thus the army passed;No fortress stood, no settled fields held fast.

He marched to Gulzaryun with chosen guides,And searched the land on all its hidden sides.

He saw a world of gardens clothed in green,With dale and plain and hill in living sheen.

The mountains teemed with game, the plains with trees,A world for favored folk and days of ease.

He sent out scouts and spies on every side,To learn what hidden dangers might abide.

They pitched the young shah’s camp beside a stream;His royal tent stood by the water’s gleam.

The shah sat on his throne of gleaming gold;Beside him sat his loyal chieftains bold.

He held a feast all night till dawn’s first ray;The dead seemed stirred to rise from their dark clay.

At Gang, Afrasiab, in constant thought,Took counsel, and the rightful course he sought.

He spoke with all the men whose judgment boreThe weight of years and skill in martial lore.

“The enemy has reached our very bed;How can we rest within our Gang?” he said.

The elders all spoke out, their counsel clear:“The foe has drawn beside us and is near.

We see no course but war for us to take;Submission is no choice our troops can make.”

They rose and left his presence for the fight;They set the army’s ranks throughout the night.

At cockcrow, when the dawn began to break,Tabiras sounded till the camp would shake.

An army marched from Gang across the plain,So dense no ant or gnat could pass the train.

Approaching Gulzaryun, that mighty forceMade earth like Mount Bistoon beneath its course.

Three days and nights the army marched along;The world was filled with clamor, harsh and strong.

The column stretched out seven farsangs long;More men than ants or locusts filled the throng.

Upon the fourth day, ranks stood one by one;Heat rose up from the water toward the sun.

Afrasiab stood firm within the heart,With chiefs and sages ready for their part.

Jahan, son of Afrasiab, held the right,Whose spears would overshoot the sun in flight.

Towrag, a lion-hearted chief, held left,With seasoned riders, resolute and deft.

Revengeful Garsivaz stood in the rear,To guard the army from the sword and spear.

Full in the center on the other side,Khosrow held firm his line in mountain pride.

Tus, Nohzar’s son, stood in the Shah’s armed train;Gudarz, Manushan, Khuzan joined on the plain.

Gorgin, Milad’s son, Rohham, fierce in fight,Hajir and brave Shidush upheld his might.

Fariborz, Kavus’s son, stood on the right.One heart, one body, all prepared to smite.

Upon the left Manuchehr held control,A match for every fierce and warlike soul.

Giv, son of old Gudarz, guarded the way,And held the rear behind the main array.

From horseshoe nails, earth shone, an iron mine;Blood made the waters like red rubies shine.

The flints’ hearts split at the tabiras’ din,As black dust rose and hemmed the heavens in.

The air became an ebon robe of night;Tabiras made the distant stars take fright.

The earth heaved like black clouds beneath the train,As though it could not bear the armies’ strain.

The field was strewn with brains and hands and feet;No room remained beneath the horses’ beat.

The horses’ hooves crushed heads of those who died;Sparks from their shoes flew up on every side.

The wise withdrew; both armies felt the strain,Exhausted by their hate and bitter pain.

“If for one moment more our armies stayIn pain and hatred, fighting in this way,

No rider will survive this field of woe;The sky itself will fall on all below.”

The axes cracked on helmets as they fell;Departing souls bade bodies their farewell.

When Kay Khosrow beheld the battle’s press,The world seemed narrow in his deep distress.

Behind his ranks he prayed: “O God unknownTo mortal mind, who rules the world alone,

Have I not borne oppression’s crushing weight,And, iron-like, been furnace-tried by fate?

I would not wish for victory in the fight,Nor press the Judge to vindicate my right.”

He spoke and laid his face upon the ground;His bitter lamentations echoed round.

At once a furious wind from heaven rose;It broke the living branches with its blows.

The wind drove battle-dust in whirling sprayAt Turan’s king and all his armed array.

The men of Turan broke before the blast;Some lay wounded or dead, some stood bound fast.

If any man turned back and fled the fight,And Afrasiab learned about his flight,

He took his khanjar, struck his head away;No shroud but dust and sand upon him lay.

Thus war endured until the daylight sank,And Turkish captives crowded rank on rank.

Night came and donned its musk-black robe from far,And barred the combat under every star.

Then both king and shah recalled their troops, amassed,As darkness over field and mountain passed.

From mountain slope down to the riverbank,Jowshans and helms and breastplates filled each rank.

They set the watchfires blazing round about,And sent the guards to every quarter out.

Afrasiab made ready for the fight,And waited for the sun to bring its light,

To light the mountain’s face and make it gleam,And earth a Badakhshan gem in its beam.

But God had other purposes in view;No plan could stand against what He would do.

From Gostaham, Nohzar’s son, came by nightA man with news of triumph in the fight.

He came to Kay Khosrow and cried: “Long liveThe Shah, to whom these joyful words I give.

We have returned in triumph from the plain,And struck the foe by night and crushed their train.

They kept no mounted outposts on the ground;Not one alert and watchful man was found.

Their chiefs awoke; our swords were drawn and bared;Our heavy gorzes, too, for war prepared.

But when the morning lifted up its hand,None stood save Qarakhan with his small band.

The field holds heads and bodies of the dead;The earth their couch, the dust their burial bed.”

A cameleer brought news of Rostam too,At dawn, with tidings faithful, clear, and true.

“We learned the news while crossing desert sand,And hastened onward with our marching band.

Rostam made day and night alike his own;He would not leave the road, though all alone.

We reached the place as daylight filled the sky,And morning’s sun began to mount on high.

Then matchless Rostam swiftly strung his bow,And set his helmet, ready for the foe.

At his first shot, the Turks broke off the fight,And from the desert fled in headlong flight.

Now through Turan he marches, vengeance-bent;Fresh tidings to the Shah’s divan are sent.”

A shout of joy rose loudly from the men;The Turkish monarch heard their cries again.

The Turks who served Khosrow were called to ride;They mounted, loyal to the monarch’s side.

A rider came in haste, with cries of pain,To Afrasiab and told him of the plain:

“Qarakhan has escaped the ruined field,And comes with sixty men, his only shield.

A force is marching hard upon our land,And drains the rivers dry before its band.”

The monarch spoke to counselors around:“A fearful struggle presses on our ground.

If Rostam takes possession of our seat,There will be no way left for our retreat.

He thinks that we have heard no word of him,And toil with Khosrow where the fields are grim.

So let us fall like fire on him by night,Let blood make earth a Jihun in the fight.

When Khosrow comes with two parts of his force,He finds but roofs and walls along his course.”

The warriors and prudent counselors agreed;They judged this course the answer to their need.

The baggage stayed; like fire, his army spedAcross the plain as Afrasiab led.

At once a scout returned across the plain,And told of dust that rose above the train.

He saw the Turkish camp abandoned, bare,And brought the shah the news with urgent care:

“The plain is full of huts and tents displayed,But not one Turk within the camp has stayed.”

Khosrow knew why the prince of Chin had goneAt such an hour, and why he hastened on.

He knew that news of Rostam and the raidOf Gostaham had made his foe afraid.

Khosrow sent hastily to Rostam then:“Afrasiab has turned from us again.

He surely hastens now to fight with you;Array the line, be watchful, firm, and true.

Keep bow and quiver full, the foe at bay;Let no deceitful onset find its way.”

The messenger was skilled enough to crossThat pathless tract without delay or loss.

He came to Rostam, found him girded tight,The lion-hearted champion, armed to fight.

With gorzes shouldered, all the warriors stayed,And listened for commands to be obeyed.

He gave the king’s whole message to the chief;Its final words brought comfort and relief.

Meanwhile Khosrow held his station, nor stirred,But rested, free from care, and spoke no word.

He gave his men the Turkish tents and treasure,Enclosures, thrones, and crowns in royal measure.

He sought Iran’s dead warriors in the mud,And washed and shrouded bodies stained with blood.

He laid the dead in tombs with fitting rite,Borne from the blood and soil of that grim fight.

He packed the baggage, called the troops to horse,And swiftly followed Afrasiab’s course.

When Afrasiab drew near the city wall,He thought: “Now Rostam sleeps, and hears no call.

At night I strike his army where it lies,And make the dust above his army rise.”

But in the gloom he saw the outposts set,And heard the chargers neigh through darkness yet.

He marveled at the watchful Rostam’s skill,And rode on, deep in thought and anxious still.

He knew his troops were beaten and distressed,And life itself was struggling in each breast.

Rostam stood armed before him on the road;Behind, the Shah and all his horsemen rode.

Afrasiab called the chiefs who gathered near,And spoke at length, compelled by grief and fear.

He asked: “What course is left? What do you say?”A chief replied and showed another way:

“The treasures of the king at Gang remain;What profit comes from toiling on the plain?

Gang measures eight farsangs in length, and fourIn breadth; within it lies your royal store.

Your women, children, treasure; all your own,Your army, crown, dominion, and your throne.

No eagle soars above that rampart height;No mind has dreamed a fortress of such might.

There food and palace, troops and wealth abide;Your foe must bear the hardships of the ride.

The land around is called Behesht in name,Where pleasure, peace, and happiness win fame.

On every side were springs and pools in sight,Each broad and long as any arrow’s flight.

From Hind and Rum, Mobadan have been brought,And here a fertile paradise was wrought.

From that high rampart, eyes can plainly viewFor twenty farsangs all who journey through.

Is warfare all you seek beneath the sky,Where every mortal camps awhile to die?”

When Afrasiab heard that prudent word,He took new heart; his flagging spirit stirred.

He entered Gang-Behesht with arms and pride,With all his troops and war-gear at his side.

He toured the city, looking all around;No handbreadth of thorn-covered earth was found.

A palace stood, its head uplifted tall;The ruling king had built it as his hall.

He entered, held his court, and paid his menIn dirhams and in dinars there and then.

He placed each quarter under chiefs to lead,And sent his troops to stations as decreed.

On foot, the watchmen held the ramparts’ height,Through all the hours of daylight and of night.

A chief and Mobad stood upon his right;He called the scribe before him there to write.

He wrote to Chin’s Faghfoor, and there they pennedA hundred thousand blessings to their friend.

Thus said Afrasiab: “The turning skyHas granted only war as years went by.

Khosrow, whom once I should have killed outright,I cherished; now through him I suffer blight.

Let Chin’s Faghfoor come here; his love is known;My soul attests the care that he has shown.

But if he stays, let him send troops this way;Our vengeful foe draws near to strike and slay.”

Sent by Afrasiab to describe his plight,The messenger reached Chin at dead of night.

The Faghfoor welcomed him with kindly grace,And gave him rest within a splendid place.

At Gang, Afrasiab remained distressed;He neither ate nor slept nor found his rest.

He set his catapults along the wall,And armed the towers to repel them all.

He bade magicians lift great stones on high,And on the ramparts set their huge supply.

He summoned Roman experts for the fight,And stationed troops along the rampart height.

The shrewd Jathaliq raised along the wallBallistae, catapults that towered tall.

Crossbows and shields of rhinoceros hide,Helms, jowshans, filled the towers on each side.

He made his smiths toil hard; from steel they madeGreat claws, along the walls in strength arrayed.

They fixed the claws to lengthy spears, to haulWhoever dared to scale the city wall.

Those claws would seize a man who climbed too high;Or from the fortress he must turn and fly.

In all his dealings he was just and plain;He paid his troops and eased them of their pain.

He gave them swords, bargostvans, helms, and bows,With shields from Chin and shafts to meet their foes.

He shared these with his troops, with special careFor fighting men, who gained the greater share.

His work complete, he sat in festive cheerWith loyal fighting men assembled near.

A hundred harpists, fairy-faced, would throngHis court each day with music and with song.

He feasted without pause within the hall,With wine and Turkish songs to gladden all.

Each day he scattered treasure, lost in play;He thought of neither next nor present day.

If what must be will be, let grief depart;Wear no dark frown, nor harbor it at heart.

Two weeks he lived released from every sorrow,But who can know who shall rejoice tomorrow?

Within the third week, Khosrow came to Gang,Where flute and harp through Afrasiab’s halls rang.

He laughed and circled all the fortress round,Amazed how fortune turned upon that ground.

He said: “Who raised this fortress to its heightDid not build such a place for harm and fight.

Yet Siavash’s murderer now has fled,Within these walls to hide his guilty head.”

He marveled at that fair, enchanting place,A heaven stood, serene in all its grace.

He said to Rostam: “Mark with judging eyesThe gifts God grants beneath these turning skies.

Yazdan of all gave triumph in the fight,And blessed our cause with fortune, farr, and might.

This wicked man, supreme in every ill,In rage, deceit, and folly hardens still,

Has made this fortress refuge from our hand,And seeks security within this land.

The worst of villains, worse with passing age,He sinks still deeper into wrath and rage.

If I neglect to thank Him, let me keepThe night’s three watches free from any sleep.

He grants success and power; His works on highAre sun and moon that shine across the sky.”

A mountain guarded one side from attack;Its shelter held the fear of battle back.

Upon another side a river ran,A stream to gladden heart and soul of man.

They pitched the royal camp upon the plain;Around the fort stood chiefs of might and main.

Their troops spread seven farsangs far and wide;Earth groaned beneath Iran from side to side.

The right-hand camp was Rostam’s to command;He asked the Shah for troops to keep it manned.

The left was held by Fariborz that day,Kavus’s son, tabiras, horns at play.

Gudarz was given the third flank to lead;They brought his tents and pitched them as decreed.

Night fell, and shouts rose up through all the air.The world seethed with the tumult everywhere.

Earth’s heart was shaken, lifted from its place,As horn and pipe and karnay filled the space.

When sun had cleared the sky of rust and night,And split heaven’s sable stole with sudden light,

The Shah bestrode his charger, black as jet,And rode around the ranks for battle set.

He spoke to mighty Rostam, kind and wise:“O chief whom all these gathered warriors prize,

May Afrasiab never see the gleamOf this world’s light again, even in dream.

If he is taken living, or lies dead,I, slave of God, shall raise steel at his head.

I think that troops will come from every side,So vast his sway, so broad his royal pride.

They dread his wrath and therefore gather near,Not from free will or vengeance held sincere.

Before he summons forces, block each road,And bar the passage to his strong abode.

Let us bring down the ramparts, stone and clay,And cast them in the river, swept away.

Our troops have passed through hardship to release;Their days of toil in war have turned to peace.

When foes seek shelter in a fortress wall,Our troops need fear no vengeful clash at all.

His heart is broken in this fortress fair,Where soon but thorns will flourish everywhere.

Recall the words that Kay Kavus would say,And turn our souls toward justice and its way:

‘Time cannot veil this feud, its fruit and bough,In dust and rust, in days to come or now.

From son to son this feud shall persevere,For full six thousand years, year after year.

Like some fresh-leaved tree, it draws new breath;In royal vengeance, hearts shall fear no death.

The father dies; his vengeance shall remain;The son shall guide the course of that same pain.’”

The nobles praised their king before them all,And hailed his pure faith with a blessing’s call.

“May you avenge your father in this fight,And reign in joy and victory’s lasting light.”

Next day, when sunlight crowned the hills with gold,And raised its lantern from the darkened fold,

A mighty shout rose from the fortress wall,And made Khosrow attend its urgent call.

The portal of the hold was opened wide;The cause of all the clamor came outside.

For Jahan came with ten wise riders, sageIn rank and counsel, seasoned by their age.

They reached the royal tent, and paused to waitAmong the nobles at its entrance gate;

The chamberlain then entered to report,“Jahan has come and waits before the court.”

The Shah sat on his ivory throne that day,And set his shining crown in full array.

Then Manushan, the warrior, came to guideWise Jahan to the king, and walked beside.

When Jahan came, the Shah’s eyes filled with tears;They veiled his face before the gathered peers.

Jahan stood marveling at what he saw,And took his princely cap off, filled with awe.

He drew up close beside the royal throne,And bowed and blessed the king in reverent tone.

“O famous king, may joy attend your days,As through this world you travel on your ways.

Be prosperous in our land; may all your foesLose heart and sight beneath their destined woes.

Live happily, and worship God; we standWith open arms throughout our native land.

May your departure and return be blessed,And tales of all your goodness be expressed.

I bear a message from Turan’s great king;May you not chafe at any words I bring.”

Khosrow commanded that a chair be placedOf gold, with which the prudent man was graced.

Jahan sat down and called his words to mind,The message that his father had assigned:

“Afrasiab sits weeping in his pain,His lashes wet with tears that fall like rain.

First comes a greeting from a heart in grief,From him who rules Turan, its king and chief:

‘Praise be to God, our Refuge and our stay,That one of ours has reached so bright a day.

He leads his armies, rules with royal might,And rides beyond the wheeling heavens’ height.

Your father’s line from Kay Qobad descends;Through Tur, your mother’s royal line extends.

Your head is higher than the kings who reign;Your name adorns the throne in Chin’s domain.

The eagles soaring swiftly through the cloud,And river nahangs, fierce of heart and proud,

Stand guardians of your throne; beneath your star,The beasts rejoice and hail you from afar.

Earth’s crowned and mighty men of high renownStand far beneath your fortune and your crown.

I marvel that the cursed Div of wrongWilled me no good but harm my whole life long.

Why did my heart go wandering from the right,From loving-kindness into murderous night,

So that I slew Kay Kavus’s guiltless son,And Siavash’s blameless life was done?

My heart is sore for that; apart I sit,With neither sleep nor food to comfort it.

The wicked Div, not I, performed the deed,And drove from me all fear of God and creed.

His hour had come; I was the pretext then;The tale lay in my hands to tell again.

You are both sage and shah and honor thoseWho walk in holiness where wisdom goes.

Now mark how many cities, once so great,With gardens, squares, and palaces of state,

Have been destroyed through vengeance, blood, and blame,Our names the pretext for that spreading flame.

Mark too the warriors, massive in the fight,Like elephants and nahangs in their might.

Their bodies lie without their noble heads;The lions’ maws, their shrouds and final beds.

No settled dwelling stands upon the plain;Each city lies in ruins through this bane.

Till Judgment Day our names will signifyBut vengeance and the wounds of swords swung high.

The Maker of the world will be displeased,And at the last our hearts with grief be seized.

If you seek war, your heart will never ceaseFrom feuds, nor know one moment’s inward peace.

Observe time’s changes; take no other guideTo teach your heart how fortune turns its tide.

We hold the fortress; you possess the plain,Your head all vengeance, heart all bloody pain.

Gang is my paradise, my cherished soil;Its fields bring forth the harvest of my toil.

Here are my hoards and troops, my royal gear:My seal and crown are safely gathered here.

Here are my crops, my food, and here the menWho stand prepared when battle comes again.

The summer warmth is gone; the roses’ bloomAnd tulips’ hues have passed before the gloom.

Cold days confront us when the soldiers’ handsFreeze on the spear-hafts where the army stands.

When clouds draw folds across the sky, our groundGrows hard as stone throughout the country round.

From every side troops at my call will run;You cannot strive against the moon and sun.

If you suppose that time will grant the fruitOf every battle to your sole pursuit,

Heaven’s course may pass beyond the plans you own;Another reap the toil that you have sown.

If now you say: “I shall take Chin and all,And dash the sky on earth, and make them fall,

And put these people to the sword, till ITake you a captive, powerless to fly,”

Do not believe that this will surely be;Who wears men down is worn to some degree.

I spring from royal Zadeshm’s ancient line,And Jamshid’s seed and Fereydoon’s are mine.

My knowledge and my farr from heaven flow;Like Soroush’s my ways and form I show.

When destiny oppresses me, my heartNeeds no instructor in the sovereign art.

When others sleep, if God decrees my flight,I vanish like a star before sunlight.

Across the waters of Kimak I go,And leave you troops and all the realm below.

Let Gangdezh be your resting-place; no moreWill town or army see me as before.

But when the time for vengeance comes one day,Behold the troops that I shall then array.

I will return to claim revenge from you,And through the world my Faith I shall renew.

But if you cast your vengeance from your mind,And rule the realm with mercy, just and kind,

For you I shall throw open all my hoardOf crowns, belts, gold, dinars, and jewels stored,

Which Fereydoon to Iraj never gave;Take all; forget the vengeance that you crave.

If Chin and Machin please your heart, take all;Let your desire direct you at its call.

Khorasan, Makran lie before your feet;Whatever you may gain, to me is sweet.

Along the road that Kavus took before,I shall dispatch what troops you ask me for.

I shall enrich your troops, and set a throneOf gold, a crown, to hold them as your own.

I shall stand by you when the wars draw near,And hail you king where all the chiefs can hear.

Say what you wish; consider in your breastThe outcome, then decide what course is best.

But if you still reject the terms I send,And choose with your forefather to contend,

When Jahan leaves, set your ranks in array;I stand, a leopard, ready for the fray.’”

The Shah smiled: “I have heard your message through,And now, brave warrior, I shall answer you.

The blessings that you bore I now retain;May crown and sovereignty with me remain.

Afrasiab’s greeting, offered through his tears,I too have heard before my gathered peers.

May I be happy, prosperous, and bright;May victory crown my fortune in the fight.

You thanked Yazdan that you could see your sonA worshipper of God, his kingship won,

More glorious than the kings who rule below,More favored, blessed with triumph over woe.

God has bestowed the gifts your words commend;May wisdom guard them to the very end.

Your words are fair whenever you would speak,Yet your heart is not pure, nor mild, nor meek.

You are no worshipper of God in deed,For wise men’s acts speak louder than their creed.

Great Fereydoon did not become a star,Nor rise from this dark earth to shine afar.

Yet you declare: ‘I shall ascend the sky,’And wash your face of shame with such a lie.

Your heart has made itself a sorcerer’s seat;Your jeweled words make falsehood sound complete.

A tongue of flattery, a heart of lies,Will never shine before the truly wise.

Call me no world-king, fatherless, alone;Of Siavash there now remains no bone.

Moreover, from her bower you dragged my mother,And shamed her in the sight of every other.

You burned with vengeance when I was unborn,And lit above my head the fire of scorn.

All those who stood within your court cried shameUpon your wayward soul and blackened name.

No king, no warrior, no man of mightHad ever done such deeds in public sight:

To drag a woman out before the crowd,And hand her to the killers, fierce and proud.

They whipped your daughter, merciless and wild,To make her womb give up its unborn child.

Wise Piran came and witnessed it in dread,A crime beyond all tales the world had spread.

Yet God ordained that I should rise on high,Exalted over men beneath the sky.

He saved me from your mischief and your plot;Fate held a hidden purpose in my lot.

You took me, helpless, from my mother’s hold,And sent me, lions’ food, to shepherds’ fold.

A shepherd was my nurse, my keeper too;No rest by day, no sleep at night I knew.

So passed my days beneath the wheeling sun,Till Piran brought me back, my exile done.

He brought me to you, and you saw an heirWorthy of throne and royal crown to wear.

You would have struck me like my father dead,And left my naked corpse where it had bled,

Had holy God not sealed my lips that day,And left me dazed before your court’s array.

You thought my mind lacked royal wit and skill,And so withheld the stroke designed to kill.

Remember Siavash, his truth and grace;What evil did you ever in him trace?

He chose you as his refuge, as was rightFor one of noble name and princely might.

He left for you both throne and crown behind,And hailed you king, with pure and loyal mind.

He left his land to keep his promise true,Lest you should say he broke his word to you.

But when you saw his stature, strength, and grace,The royal light that shone upon his face,

Your evil nature stirred; you struck him down,That holy man, that prince of noble crown.

You cut his head off like a sheep in shame,And kindled endless vengeance with his name.

From Manuchehr’s age to this present day,You have pursued an evil, faithless way.

Our troubles took their root from Tur’s dark hand,Who turned against his father’s own command.

So son from son has broken royal law,And kingly Faith has suffered wound and flaw.

You struck the head from King Nohzar in hate,A man of royal blood and noble state.

Your brother Aghriras, whose heart was good,Sought honorable fame, as good men should.

You killed him; evil has been all your way,Your nature led by Ahriman astray.

Your crimes, if any man should count them all,Would pass the revolutions of heaven’s wall.

You planted roots in Hell; do not declareThat you were born of men, their blood to share.

You say: ‘The loathly Div inclined my heartTo evil, turned my thoughts from virtue’s part.’

So Zahhak spoke, and Jamshid spoke the same,When hope of goodness failed them in their shame.

They said: ‘Iblis misled our hearts from good,And barred our hands from doing what we should.’

Bad nature and their teachers’ counsel madeTheir evil fortune stay; it would not fade.

For when a man turns wholly from the right,He chooses crookedness instead of light.

At Pashan, too, how many troops were slain,When Piran drenched the field with blood and pain.

The blood of Gudarz’s kin made earth a mire;You seek but harm and suffering, your desire.

And even now you came with countless men,With Turkish horsemen marshaled out again.

You led your force to Amvi for the fight,And sent Pashang before me in his might.

You sent him hoping he would strike me dead,And leave my realm beneath your armies’ tread.

But God, Yazdan of earth, stood at my side;Your fortune broke, your vaunting hope had died.

And now you say: ‘Your throne delights my heart;Your fortune is my joy in every part.’

Consider: can I weigh your deeds and trustSuch words as truth, not hollow words and dust?

Until the Judgment Day, no word for youExcept the sword that cleaves all falsehood through.

With troops and treasure, under moon and sun,I shall strive on till justice has been done.

Before Yazdan I stand; no other guideShall lead me through this world or turn my stride.

Perhaps the world will then be cleansed of wrong;My gifts and justice make it new and strong.

I shall root out the wicked through the land,And strip their crowns away with my own hand.

Tell my grandfather all I have to say:Let no more pretexts stand in battle’s way.”

He gave a crown with zabarjad alight,A golden torque, two earrings gleaming bright.

Then Jahan went before his father’s throne,And made each word of Khosrow’s answer known.

The answer roused Afrasiab to ire;His heart was pain, his thoughts impatient fire.

He gave his troops his hoards and dirhams bright,With gorzes, swords, and helms and crowns for fight.

All night, until the sun rose in the sky,And peaks, like white-backed elephants, shone high,

Afrasiab continued to array his force;No Turkish rider slept or left his horse.

When all the kousts resounded out of Gang,And iron earth beneath black heaven rang,

The Shah, Mobadan’s chief, at dawn’s first lightBestrode his charger, ready for the fight.

At dawn he circled all the guarded place,And marked each point where troops might force a space.

He ordered Rostam to assail one side,With mountain-like battalions in their pride.

Brave Gostaham, the son of Nohzar, cameTo seize another quarter, crowned with fame.

Wise old Gudarz commanded on the third,While Khosrow held the fourth by royal word.

Tabiras, elephants, and mounted men,He brought his well-equipped ranks forward then.

The Shah commanded all the troops to lendTheir strength to dig a trench from end to end.

All men experienced in siegecraft’s art,Who had the strength for war, must play their part.

From Rum and Chin and Hind the veterans came,War-tested warriors of enduring fame.

With veteran chiefs they circled round the wall,To learn where best to breach or scale it all.

They dug a trench two spear-lengths deep; aroundIts circuit, troops were posted on the ground,

Lest any sally in the night be made,And catch them off their guard in such a raid.

Two hundred arradas stood at each gate;Behind, two hundred manjaniqs lay in wait.

Two hundred bow-engines stood ranged belowEach gate, to strike the heads the walls might show.

If heads rose from the wall, the engines castTheir stones like hail upon them, thick and fast.

Behind them Roman troops controlled each frame,And worked the engines with a practiced aim.

Two hundred elephants obeyed the call,And hauled the marble round the outer wall.

Beneath the ramparts they dug out the ground,Then set supporting pillars all around.

The walls, now undermined, were held in placeBy timber shores beneath their broken base.

On every timber naphtha then was spread;The walls stood firm, but ruin lay ahead.

The shafts and catapult stones beat the tower;The proud turned pale as saffron in that shower.

Below were wood and naphtha, fire and heat;Above, the heavy gorzes struck and beat.

On all four sides the siege was thus prepared;No quarter of the fortress would be spared.

When all was ready, Iran’s shah sought prayer,And turned to God in sorrow and in care.

He sought a place to bow apart from men,And told the World-Creator secrets then.

He writhed upon the ground, a snake in pain,And praised Yazdan, with vengeance in each vein:

“To You belong success and sovereign might;In every strait we seek Your aiding light.

If You perceive my cause is just, I pray,Keep firm my foot; let none drive me away.

Cast down the sorcerers from throne and state,And give me joy, good fortune, conquering fate.”

When he had prayed, he raised his head upright,And clad his breast in jowshan for the fight.

He fastened on his belt, sprang to his feet,And rushed like smoke where fighting armies meet.

He ordered troops to charge at every gate,And throw their strength against the fortress’ weight.

They set the naphtha-covered beams ablaze;Stones rained on them from overhead through haze.

The bow-engines resounded through the smoke;The bright sun darkened in its dusky cloak.

The engines thundered; dust obscured the view,Till earth was indigo and heaven blue.

Chiefs shouted; trumpeting elephants replied;Swords flashed, and massive gorzes shook each side.

The sun and moon themselves seemed locked in fight,Raining down swords and army dust from height.

The naphtha-covered woodwork caught and burned;By God’s command, the props to ashes turned.

The walls seemed lifting feet to leave their base,Then fell like mountains toppling from their place.

With them fell many Turkish warriors bold,Like drops of rain, down from the shattered hold.

Caught in the sudden snare, their lives were done;So ends the turmoil of each luckless one.

The Iranian war-cry rose in triumph clear;The Shah’s victorious army raised a cheer.

They turned toward the breach, the fighting throng;Fierce Rostam came and drove the charge along.

The city’s ramparts lay in wreckage, torn;To Afrasiab was that grim message borne.

Like dust he came, and raised his urgent cries,To summon Jahan, Garsivaz to rise.

“What use are walls?” he cried. “A fortress falls;The army’s scimitars must be its walls.

For country, children, treasure, kin, and life,Stand firm and arm yourselves to meet the strife.

Link skirts with one another; close the way,And let no foe along our passage stay.”

Then mountain-like the Turkish ranks advanced,And toward the shattered breach their lances danced.

Like lions, both sides clashed in fierce attack;Each answered with a roar that thundered back.

In deep despair the Turkish riders shookLike willows, and all hope of home forsook.

The Shah bade Rostam bring up to the breachThe spear-armed footmen stationed within reach.

He brought renowned and vengeful warriors too,To fill the breach and drive the battle through.

With quivers, swords, and arrows, axes bright,Behind the footmen, horsemen stood to fight.

Their battle-chief stood guard through each attackTo shield them when fierce combat held them back.

Both horse and foot, in bands from every side,Came on like mountains in a moving tide.

Then warlike Rostam, lion in the fight,Led all his forces through the shattered height.

On foot, like dust, he charged amid the fray,And cast the sable standard down that day.

Upon the rampart rose the lion’s sign,The violet flag of Iran’s battle-line.

Iran’s great warriors hailed the Shah’s success,Their cries shook Gang in triumph and distress.

A multitude of Turkish troops were slain;The foe’s good fortune broke upon the plain.

Amid the crisis, Rostam seized and boundTwo warriors, the mightiest to be found:

Jahan and Garsivaz, both widely knownAs mighty pillars of the Turkish throne.

The king’s own son and brother, both forlorn,By troubled fortunes to despair were borne.

Iranian troops poured through the city gate,Their hearts consumed by old and vengeful hate.

They turned to plunder, killing as they went;From every quarter cries of grief were sent.

The women and the children shrank in dread,And raised their cries as they gave ground and fled.

How many women, children young and slight,Were crushed beneath the elephants outright!

The townsfolk fled like wind before the foe;None thought of home, but only where to go.

The throne of Turan’s mighty men fell low;Their eyes wept blood in bitterness and woe.

Their women, children, wealth were taken, lost;Flesh pierced by shafts, their souls in anguish tossed.

Afrasiab went weeping to his hall,His heart brimmed full with grief at Gang’s great fall.

He climbed his palace wall, and there could see:Two-thirds lay dead; the rest had turned to flee.

The horsemen cried, the chieftains shouted loud,And elephant tabiras shook the crowd.

They drove the elephants across the throng;Backs struck the earth as beasts were urged along.

The city filled with smoke and cries of woe;He watched the fire and plunder spread below.

So does this passing world divide its share:One heart knows joy, another dark despair.

Afrasiab saw terror drawing near,And fortune’s overthrow lay stark and clear.

No Jahan, brother, land, or royal state;No crown, throne, belt remained to mark him great.

“How wantonly has heaven dealt this blow;My heart is seared with sorrow and with woe.

My eyes have seen such anguish here that INow think it little to be slain and die.”

He came down grieving from the palace tower,And bade farewell to throne and royal power:

“When shall I look on you with joy, restoreMy ease, and live as I have lived before?”

He left, half-dazed, and vanished out of sight;His wit and counsel flew like birds in flight.

Within the fortress palace he had made,A passage underneath the earth was laid.

No soldier in the army ever knewThat such a hidden passage tunneled through.

He chose two hundred chiefs and took that way,Then vanished underground from light of day.

From there he took the road through desert ground;His country stood astonished all around.

None knew his road or where his steps had gone;So suddenly he vanished and passed on.

Khosrow approached the palace of his foe,And crushed his fortune with a conquering blow.

He took his seat upon the throne of gold,And sent out troops to search throughout the hold.

They searched in every quarter, street by street,But found no trace of him in his defeat.

He questioned Jahan, Garsivaz, to knowWhat had become of Turan’s lord, his foe:

“How did he leave? Where has he gone to stay?Where has he hidden since he slipped away?”

They gave their answers; Khosrow heard them out,But nothing that they said resolved his doubt.

The Shah told Iran’s men: “A foe cast downAnd driven from his throne has lost his crown.

The world now grants him little joy or fame;To him, both life and death are much the same.”

Khosrow chose Mobadan from armed array,Old chiefs well practiced in the world’s way.

He said: “Hail, men of justice, wise and true;May justice fill your hearts in all you do.

The doors of that ill-omened Turk’s great hallI place beneath your watch; protect them all.

Be diligent; let no intrusive rayUpon his royal palace find its way.

Nor let his women’s voices reach the street;Guard them from insult, outrage, and deceit.”

He sent out keepers for the herds at large,The beasts around the fortress in their charge.

None of the fallen monarch’s kin were wronged;Such conduct to the royal throne belonged.

The troops looked on and murmured in dismay;Their bitter words spread through the whole array.

“He acts as though he were his father’s guest,And in his father’s house had come to rest.

He thinks not of his father, slain unjust,Beheaded, left to mingle with the dust.

He thinks not of his mother, dragged outsideFrom throne and curtained bower, stripped of pride.

This harmless Shah was by a shepherd fed;On milk of sheep in childhood he was bred.

Why does he not, like sharp-clawed leopards, bringDestruction to the dwelling of that king?

Why not cast down his palace, hall, and tower,And burn its walls beneath the flames’ fierce power?”

The Shah was told the Iranians’ bitter word,And summoned nobles when the tale was heard.

He spoke at length: “Not all things call for ire;A foolish head is nothing to admire.

We must be just, though vengeance feeds the flame,And guard our name when we have won our aim.

Good deeds remain our lasting record here;Since life will pass, and none may linger near.

This turning sky can visit grief and painOn anyone within its wide domain.”

He bade them bring the women to his side,In privacy, their veiled approach to hide.

The daughters of the kings, in veiled retreat,Had never left the bower for the street.

When all the Iranians learned the Shah’s command,They rushed toward the palace in a band.

They thought: “Khosrow will slay these women now.”Such was the thought that darkened every brow.

For plunder and for killing now they came;They wished the women misery and shame.

A mournful cry arose within the hall:“O just and wise Shah, listen to our call.

You know that we are powerless and low,And merit neither insult, scorn, nor woe.”

The queenly matron came with daughters, bentWith grief, and burdened by their deep lament.

A hundred servants walked before each maid;On every head a ruby crown was laid.

Their ornaments were like the shining sun;Their robes were gold where woven splendors run.

All carried golden goblets in their hands,And trembled at the king’s august commands.

The women shone with musk and gold and gem,With lowered heads, shame heavy over them.

One hand bore censers, one held cups; the flameOf aloes, ambergris, rose as they came.

It seemed that Saturn, from the heavens’ height,Had strewn the earth with stars of brilliant light.

The royal matron came before the throne,And blessed the Shah while making sorrow known.

Her daughters, delicately reared and fair,Raised all their supplications through the air.

Together all the women wept in pain;They lived beneath their bitter fortune’s reign.

Have pity on the one who knew delight,When days of need eclipse that former light.

In grief they praised him: “Khosrow, kind and true,O generous shah, our blessings rise to you.

How well if vengeance had not seared your heart,And enmity toward Turan played no part.

Then kings would send their messages to greetYour coming here for feasts and leisure sweet.

Our king and ruler, you would claim the throneYour grandfather had held here as his own.

Then Siavash would never have been slain;Yet sun and moon decreed that hour of pain.

Afrasiab’s vile deeds have sunk so deepHe cannot dream of pardon in his sleep.”

Then Afrasiab’s wife said, “My words were spurned;He would not heed me; from my counsel turned.

I call my Maker witness from above:Blood-red tears streamed from eyes that wept with love.

My son Jahan, your kinsman, knows my pain;He too can witness, bound now in your chain.

Within this palace, heart and soul grew sore;For Siavash I grieved forevermore.

Afrasiab, your foe, heard sound advice;No counsel profited his heart of ice.

And so this day has brought his kingdom low;His sovereignty has met its overthrow.

His crown and girdle have become your spoil;His day is dark, his glory cast to soil.

His present life is worse than death to bear;Strange that his skin stays whole beneath despair.

Now look on us, all innocent of blame,And treat us as befits your royal name.

We all are kin to Khosrow on the throne;No name but his before our hearts is known.

Let him not, for Afrasiab’s evil deed,Act rashly against those of guiltless seed.

Do not bring bloodshed, outrage, scorn, and shameOn those who have no portion in the blame.

It is unworthy of a king to shedThe blood of guiltless heads or strike them dead.

Your counsel, Shah, would choose another way,For none in mortal skin is long to stay.

So act as God requires from royal hands,And fear the reckoning where judgment stands.”

Khosrow was deeply moved when he had heardThose fallen women’s grief in every word.

The women’s ruby cheeks, in grief’s fierce glow,Shone bright as lamps amid their bitter woe.

The sages grieved; their thoughts began to roam,For each remembered child and wife at home.

The captains and the mighty chiefs gave praise,And blessed the Shah for his forbearing ways;

For he would not pursue revenge or blameAgainst these women, in their Maker’s name.

Then prudent Khosrow spoke: “What we would rueIf done to us, we must not do to you.

I will not bring such grief on any head,Though vengeful anger in my heart is fed.

When I reflect upon that monarch’s deed,I find no worthy pattern there to heed.

He wronged my noble mother; I shall spareAll others from the wrong she had to bear.”

He sent them home and said: “Abide in peace;No hand shall harm you; let your terrors cease.

Be safe and pay no heed to words of spite;Let no ill speaker fill your hearts with fright.

I bear no cruel purpose, no deceit;From now on, let your fears of me retreat.

No one desires to bring himself to grief;If someone does, his span of life is brief.

Live safely in your palace, sheltered, blessed;In God’s care let your souls and bodies rest.”

Khosrow told Iran: “May the crown endure,The throne stand ever steadfast and secure.

The realm of Turan, captured by our hand,Shall now be yours, as dear as Iran’s land.

Put all revenge away from heart and mind,And rule the land with dealings just and kind.

The people fear us deeply on this day;The roads are mire where blood has stained the way.

I leave Turan’s great treasures yours to keep;No thanks from any warrior would I reap.

Be quick and constant in the work of good;Where winter reigned, let spring renew the wood.

My soldiers soon shall have their gold and store,Each filled with treasure, needing nothing more.

Let no blood of the guiltless now be shed;Let none cut off a blameless person’s head.

No manly deed is born of rage or spite;No hero strikes the helpless in the fight.

Turn from all women veiled in modest grace;Let none be harmed in market, court, or place.

Respect another’s wealth; for greed can makeThe closest friends turn foes for plunder’s sake.

The Maker hates all harm against the weak,And guiltless folk whom violent men seek.

Whoever would support my high designMust spare the realm that I now claim as mine.

For all call him unjust throughout the landWho leaves a thriving realm as barren sand.”

The Shah commanded all his troops to claimTuran’s vast stores and treasures in his name,

Except Afrasiab’s private hoard alone,Which none could seize or reckon as his own.

The rest he gave: the arms, the thrones, the crowns,The treasures gathered from the captured towns.

The scattered Turks came in, an endless flow;Their countless troops approached the Shah Khosrow.

He granted quarter, welcomed every man,And soon arranged all their trade by his plan.

He settled them with justice and command,And gave each chief his portion of the land.

To every noble he assigned a town;But rebels found no mercy from the crown.

Turan was overcome; from every sideThe chiefs proclaimed Khosrow their rightful guide.

From every quarter envoys came to showTheir homage at the court of Shah Khosrow.

With gifts and letters from their lords they came;Each lord now served the Shah and owned his claim.

Khosrow then called a trusted scribe that day,And bade him write what triumph came their way.

He wrote to Kay Kavus of Turan’s force,And told the secrets bearing on his course.

First in the letter, praise to God was made,Who cleansed the earth where wickedness had stayed.

He woke the sleeping star and made it bright,And cast the sorcerers down from their height.

All knowledge, power, and justice come from Him;He cheers the wronged whose hopes were growing dim.

Then wrote: “Through Kay Kavus’s auspicious star,That noble king, whose wisdom reaches far,

At Gang, Afrasiab’s fortress has been won;His fortune slept and sank; his course is run.

Upon one field, by heaven’s fixed decree,Full forty thousand chiefs had ceased to be.

Illustrious men with massive gorzes came,And fell at Gulzaryun in blood and flame.

Then came a mighty tempest, fierce and vast,And roots and branches yielded to its blast.

Into the water fell a force that day;The very troops who sought to bar our way.

Afrasiab fled the field, deprived of might,To Gang-Behesht, made ready for the fight.

And in the siege that followed on the plain,Full thirty thousand more of his were slain.

That man had ruled unjustly day by day;But wisdom and good fortune turned away.

The army spreads across the country wide;He vanished; none can tell where he may hide.

Hereafter I shall send the Shah each word,Whenever victory’s welcome news is heard.”

Then he returned to revelry and wine,With moon-faced beauties radiant and fine.

So passed the time till spring adorned the earth,And hue and scent gave paradise its birth.

The plain was painted silk; the sky was bright,Like leopard’s back with many-colored light.

The Gur-e-Khar and deer roamed through the land;With hawk and cheetah he pursued the band.

With musky wine and beauties bright of face,He shared the pleasures of the royal chase.

The beasts, like gurs, were full of vital power;They roamed the open plain in spring’s bright hour.

Their necks were like male lions’, thick and strong;With heads and ears like deer’s, they moved along.

He sent his spies abroad on every side,To seek the tyrant, wherever he might hide.

Then tidings came from Chin, from Khutan’s land,That Afrasiab had joined the Faghfoor’s band.

“The Faghfoor takes his cause in hand again,And clamor fills the land with armed men.

From Chin to Gulzaryun the troops extend;The Khan commands them; to his rule they bend.

None knows what wealth, what slaves, what bridled steeds,The Faghfoor sends to serve Afrasiab’s needs.

They hail him king, and now within his holdLies Piran’s treasure, heaped with minted gold.

Six thousand camel-loads of dinars layWithin that hoard he carried on his way.

As he conveyed them far from Khutan’s realm,He brought a force his foe to overwhelm.”

When news reached those whom Khosrow once had spared,They rose against Iran, for war prepared.

They armed again for vengeful war, and toreWide open wounds that mercy closed before.

When Afrasiab left Khutan behind,He brought a force beyond all count or mind.

The earth could scarcely bear their vast amount;No stars in heaven could their numbers count.

In wrath he led his army from that place,And turned once more toward Khosrow’s waiting face.

When Khosrow heard, he sent his scouts ahead,To watch the road on which the foe was led.

Gudarz, with Gorgin and Farhad, drew near;The Shah commanded them: “You shall stay here.

Remain here, just and prudent in command,Keep scouts on constant watch across the land.”

He told Gudarz: “These troops are yours to shield;Be their protection when they take the field.

If any Turk should show, by word or sign,The least support for enemies of mine,

Hang him alive upon the gibbet high,Head downward, with his feet raised to the sky.

But harm no guiltless person, weak or meek;Guard troops and treasure; keep the watch I seek.”

Tabiras thundered from the royal tent,And gongs and karnays through the army went.

From Gang marched troops whose fury so inspiredThe sun that battle was all it desired.

Outside the town he formed his ranks for fight,And toward the mountains led his army’s might.

Two stages lay between each gathered side;Khosrow called all his chiefs to him and cried:

“Tonight remain in station, calm and still;Yet let no sloth relax your watch or will.”

He posted scouts around the plain that night,And circled round his troops till morning light.

One week he stayed preparing for the fight,With weapons sharpened, all his forces right.

Upon the eighth day scouts returned and toldThe enemy was near, with banners bold.

He set his army then in such arrayThat sun and moon looked on at their display.

Afrasiab saw it, and, swift to heed,Arrayed his own to answer Khosrow’s deed.

He told his chiefs: “This sight delights my soul;Like feast and pleasure, battle makes me whole.

Upon my throne I slept in happy rest;Without a fight, impatience filled my breast.

Long have I wandered, fugitive and worn;My head and heart for war are now reborn.

Is this Khosrow’s good fortune drawing near,Or does a new age in my life start here?

Yet I myself shall fight him on this ground,Though triumph, death, or sorrow may be found.”

Then all the wise replied with one accord,Both kin and strangers gathered round their lord:

“If you yourself must fight the foe today,Why bring this army and its vast array?

All Chin and all Turan before you stand,Both kin and strangers, yours at your command.

We pledged our lives to you and now renewThat pledge: our souls and bodies, ransom true.

Though hundreds or a hundred thousand die,Do not esteem your life less dear thereby.

We all desire your welfare and renown;We live sustained by glory from your crown.”

Then from the army rose a mighty cry;The din of battle filled both earth and sky.

Through darkened dust the stars came into view;The yellow sun was turned to lapis-blue.

The Turkish king chose from his men that dayThree veterans, and sent them on their way.

They bore this message: “Shah, your road was long;Far have you traveled with your mighty throng.

Between Iran and Gang, through hill and plain,A thousand farsangs bear the scars of pain.

Across the sand, through mountain and ravine,Like ants and locusts our long lines were seen.

From Gang and Chin to Iran’s guarded throne,The soil lies red with blood and splintered bone.

If holy God drew from the dust belowThe blood of slain men into one deep flow,

It would become a Red Sea in its course,And drown both armies, foot and mounted force.

If you desire my treasure, troops, or crown,Turan’s broad realm, each fortress and each town,

I will resign them all to you and go,But only steel shall lay my body low.

I am your mother’s father; we are kin;From Fereydoon both our royal lines begin.

If vengeance for your father clouds your view,And turns my waters dark and foul to you,

The fault was Siavash’s, as I declare;His conduct broke my heart past all repair.

Besides, the stars that circle overheadAre both our shelter and our source of dread.

Now sixty years have passed across my life,Since first I rode with chiefs through war and strife.

My offspring, now you sit on Iran’s throne;In battle, lions’ claws become your own.

Choose distant ground, apart from those who pray,With those who worship God kept far away.

There we shall meet in combat, face to face,While both our armies hold a distant place.

If I should fall beneath your conquering hand,Your hook will draw the nahangs up to land.

But strive not with my kindred and allies;Restrain revenge; let wrath not blind your eyes.

And if you should be slain by me, I swearBy God, your waiting army I shall spare.

Not one of them shall feel the battle’s pang,Nor see dark dust where blades and lances rang.”

Khosrow, when he had heard the message through,Spoke to the son of Zal, great Rostam true.

“This scheming king, whose words deceive us all,Still looks from lofty heights and sees no fall.

He slipped our grasp by cunning of his own,And thinks he sits upon Turan’s high throne.

He speaks so much of battle that, it seems,He longs for Shideh’s grave within his dreams.

No shame would stain me if I faced this man,Descended from Fereydoon through Pashang’s clan.”

But Rostam answered: “Shah, such fierce desireWould make you clasp within your lap a fire.

It shames a Shah to enter single fight,Though Pashang faced him, armed in all his might.

He says: ‘Fight not my men or kin or land,’And asks you thus to stay your army’s hand.

Your armies stretch from sea to distant sea;Their wishes with these terms do not agree.

If you make vows to him in God’s great name,Your heart must bear no guile beneath that claim.

Now order full assault without delay;Let no false counsel turn our strength away.”

When Khosrow heard old Rostam’s counsel plain,He set a different course for his campaign:

“So that malignant man would fight my rule,With treachery and fraud his every tool?

To Siavash he swore a greater vow;His tongue deceived, his heart was false as now.

No chief wins glory through a traitor’s art.Say to Afrasiab: ‘False is your heart.

If battle is your sole desire today,There are brave men besides me for the fray.

There stand brave Giv and Rostam in the fight,Both eager to confront a tiger’s might.

And if kings challenge kings to hand-to-hand,Why bring the gathered army you command?

I will not meet you now in single duel;You soon shall know a day both dark and cruel.’”

The envoy turned and hastened on his way,And told his king what Khosrow had to say.

Afrasiab grieved; he had no wish, that hour,To hurry forth against the Shah’s great power.

The Shah brought forth his army to attack;The other army was forced to answer back.

One rushed, one lingered as the battle spread;The earth became a sea beneath their tread.

Like hail from clouds, the arrows fell and rangOn helms and tiger-skins with ceaseless clang.

From dawn until the sun’s last ruby glow,Blood stained the ground the horses trod below.

When night drew close, the weary troops withdrew,As failing light concealed the field from view.

The king of kings returned to camp and tent,With royal pomp, and fortune where he went.

He said to Tus, “Afrasiab was slowTo welcome open battle, blow for blow.

I think tonight he will attempt a raid,To ease the grief his brooding heart has made.”

He had a trench dug on the road that facedTuran’s encampment, where its troops were placed.

He gave command: “Let not a fire appear;Let not the sound of bells reach any ear.”

Then Khosrow chose brave horsemen from his side,And placed them under Rostam as their guide.

He chose another force from Iran’s line,All armed and ready for the Shah’s design.

He placed them under Tus, the army’s head,And sent them toward the hills with ordered tread.

The matchless Rostam took the level plain,While Tus moved toward the heights with all his train.

He ordered: “Take your forces far afield;To left and right divide them, spear and shield.