Book C8The Tragedy of Rostam and Esfandiyar

I heard a story from the nightingale,Recited from the ancient heroic tale.

Esfandiyar came from the king that night,Drunk and dejected, far from all delight.

His mother Katayun, of Caesar’s race,Had held him closely in her warm embrace.

In darkness, waking from his wine-dark rest,He called for wine and spoke what filled his breast.

He told his mother, “I have suffered wrong;The Shah has kept my rightful crown too long.

He said, ‘When you avenge Lohrasp the kingOn King Arjasp, and home in triumph bring

Your sisters, freed from bondage and from shame,And raise throughout the world my royal name,

And purge the earth of wickedness and hate,And labor to renew its ordered state,

Then realm and army shall become your own,With treasure, crown, and high imperial throne.’

When dawn returns to wake the Shah from sleep,I shall ask for the pledge he swore to keep.

I shall repeat his words and make him hear;He shall not hide the truth when I draw near.

But if he breaks his pledge and turns me down,By God who props the sky, I take the crown.

I shall be crowned and let Iran commandThe realm; its people shall possess the land.

As Iran’s lady, you shall rule in might;With strength and courage, I, like lions, fight.”

His mother sorrowed when she heard him speak;Silk turned to thorns against her breast and cheek.

She knew the famous Shah would never giveThe throne and crown by which great monarchs live.

She said, “My son, so worn by grief and pain,What more could any royal heart obtain?

You have command and counsel, troops and gold;Seek nothing more than what you have to hold.

Your father has no portion but the crown;You hold the troops, the realm, the world’s renown.

When he departs, the throne will pass to you,With crown and fortune, as is justly due.

What better for a lion than to standBefore his father, girded for command?”

Esfandiyar replied, “How fine and clearThe sage’s saying sounds within the ear:

‘Tell women nothing secret; what you sayWill find you in the streets another day.

Nor do the thing that women counsel you;No woman gives good counsel, sound and true.’”

His mother frowned, ashamed of what she said;She wished she had kept silent there instead.

But he did not go stand at Goshtasb’s side;With wine and minstrels he remained inside.

Two days and nights he drained the cup of wine,And with his moon-faced women would recline.

The third day brought the tidings to the throne:The prince now sought the crown to call his own.

Goshtasb learned the prince would not give up his claim,And that he sought both the crown and the name.

He called Jamasp and those who read the skies,Lohrasp’s diviners, men of counsel wise.

They brought their star-tables at his request;The Shah inquired, his spirit much oppressed:

“Will brave Esfandiyar have length of days?Will peace and fortune crown his royal ways?

Will he be crowned, and will his royal reignEndure, the crown upon his head remain?”

Jamasp, the sage of Iran, heard and readThe ancient charts, his heart grown sick with dread.

His lashes filled with tears; his troubled browWas drawn by all his knowledge told him now.

He said, “My days are ill, my stars are ill;My knowledge pours misfortune on me still.

Would fate had cast me to the lion’s powerBefore brave Zarir’s last and dreadful hour.

Then I would not have seen him lying lowIn dust, his breast all blood from battle’s blow.

Would that my father’s hand had struck me dead,Before ill fortune gathered round my head.

Although Esfandiyar has earned great fame,And tears the lion’s heart from out its frame,

Though he has swept the world of hostile might,And fears no foe or fury in the fight,

Though he secured the world from evil’s crew,And split the dragon’s body clean in two,

Hereafter we shall mourn his bitter fate,And drink our fill of sorrow, soon or late.”

The Shah exclaimed, “O sage, the truth declare;Do not withhold your knowledge in despair.

If he shall fall as noble Zarir fell,Then life for me will be a living hell.

Speak now; my questioning has filled my breastWith bitter anguish, leaving me no rest.

Whose hand will slay him? Tell me from whose blowThese bitter tears and all this sorrow flow.”

Jamasp replied, “Will grief not fall on me,O king, when I reveal what I foresee?

In Zabulistan comes his final breath;The son of Zal shall put him there to death.”

The Shah replied, “Then think on this affair:If I resign the crown for him to wear,

If throne and treasure pass beneath his rule,No fatal road shall lead him to Zabul.

No man in Kabulistan shall know his face;He will not travel through that distant place.

Will he be safe from time’s revolving power?Will kindly stars direct his fateful hour?”

Jamasp replied, “Can strength or wisdom defyThe sharp-clawed Dragon of the wheeling sky?

What must be comes; no wisdom can delayThe time appointed for our final day.

A great man’s hand may bring his final sleep,Or else Soroush may come while he sleeps deep.”

The Shah’s heart filled with thoughts that would not cease;His soul became a thicket, stripped of peace.

His evil thoughts and time’s relentless turningTogether schooled his heart in evil’s learning.

When night had gathered up its reins and gone,And dawn’s bright spear across the sky was drawn,

Upon his golden throne the Shah sat straight;The prince approached, his grievance to relate.

He stood, arms folded, like a humble slave,His mind weighed down by thought, his spirit grave.

When chiefs and warriors filled the royal hall,With priests and captains ranked before them all,

Esfandiyar, that mighty prince and chief,Began to speak and pour forth all his grief.

He said, “O Shah, live evermore; the earthThrough you receives God’s farr and royal worth.

Through you both love and justice stand confessed,And crown and throne with majesty are blessed.

I am your servant, bound to do your will,And swift to act and serve your purpose still.

You know Arjasp came riding forth to fightAgainst the Faith, with Chin’s assembled might.

I swore those solemn oaths, and held them dear;I heeded God’s commands, both firm and clear:

If any man should cast the Faith asideFor idols, with its holy truth denied,

My khanjar splits him at the waist in two;I fear no man in what I swear to do.

When fierce Arjasp advanced to join the fight,No lion or leopard turned me back in fright.

I made the battlefield a graveyard then;No saddle held a rider of his men.

Yet at Gurazm’s request, amid your cheer,You shamed me while you drank at the banquet here.

You bound me fast with chains of iron weight,And blacksmiths’ spikes secured my captive state.

To Gombadan you sent me in that plight,In strangers’ hands, disgraced before their sight.

You went to Zabul, leaving Balkh behind,And treated war as feasting in your mind.

You did not see Arjasp’s blade strike its blow;You cast old King Lohrasp in blood and woe.

Jamasp arrived and saw me bound in pain,My body wounded by the heavy chain.

He promised realm and throne and pleaded long;I answered him, my wrath and spirit strong:

‘These heavy chains, these fetters that I bear,These blacksmiths’ iron spikes, I shall lay bare

Before Yazdan upon the Judgment Day,And plead against my slanderer’s evil way.’

He said, ‘The gorz-armed chiefs bleed on the plain;Your brother Farshidvard lies there in pain.

The field holds bodies pierced by arrows’ flight;Your sisters have been captured in the fight.

The Shah himself has fled before the foe,And grieves because he brought his son this woe.

Does not your heart burn hot at all this grief,At wounds and sorrows that defy relief?’

He spoke much more of sorrow, grief, and pain;I broke apart each fetter, yoke, and chain.

I rushed to you and slew foes past all count;You praised my deeds; too many to recount.

Should I recount the Stages, one by one,How could I ever hope to see it done?

I glorified Goshtasb before all men,And took Arjasp’s proud head in triumph then.

I brought his wife and children to your court,With crown and throne and treasure of every sort.

You placed those riches in your guarded hall;My blood was capital; grief paid for all.

Your oaths and pledges strengthened heart and hand,And made me readier for each command.

You said, ‘Return, and when I see you whole,You shall be dearer to me than my soul.

The ivory throne and crown shall pass to you;Your valor makes such royal honors due.’

Before the nobles I am put to shame:They ask, ‘Where are the troops and wealth you claim?’

What pretext now remains? What is my place?For whom do I still toil in this disgrace?”

The Shah replied, “From truth we must not stray;Your deeds exceed the things you tell today.

May God, who made the world, remain your aid;Each foe, concealed or open, stands afraid.

What man can hear your name and not grow pale?I say grow pale? His very life would fail.

You have no peer but Rostam, Zal’s great son,That witless chief, in valor matched by none.

He holds Zabulistan and Kabul’s plain,With Ghaznin, Bost, and all their wide domain.

His valor rises past the heavens’ height;He will not bow before another’s might.

He served Kay Kavus in the days gone by,And lived when Khosrow held his kingship high.

He will not name me king; his words are bold:‘Goshtasb’s crown is new, and we are old.’

No Roman, Turk, or noble is your peerWhen you in battle on the field appear.

Set out for Sistan with your chosen train;Use craft and force and guile across that plain.

Draw sword and raise your gorz; let Rostam seeHis hands in bonds and bring him here to me.

Bring brave Zavareh, Faramarz beside;Let none of them take horse again to ride.

Then by the Judge, the source of strength and light,Who made the sun and moon and stars burn bright,

When you complete this charge, our strife shall cease;From me you shall hear no dispute, but peace.

I give you treasure, troops, and royal seat;And crown you on the throne, your claim complete.”

Esfandiyar replied, “O noble king,You leave old justice for a crooked thing.

A sovereign’s speech should measured wisdom bear;His words should balance justice, truth, and care.

Fight Chin’s great king and scatter all his horde;Send dust from warriors beaten by your sword.

Why fight that aged man, whom Kavus namedA lion-catcher, mighty and acclaimed?

From Manuchehr to Kay Qobad, his fameMade Iran’s heart rejoice to hear his name.

They called him Lord of Rakhsh, world-conquering guide,King-maker, lion-queller, Iran’s pride.

His greatness is no rumor newly heard;Kay Khosrow pledged his bond and gave his word.

If royal covenants cannot hold true,Why seek a charter, Shah Goshtasb, from you?”

The Shah replied, “My lion-hearted son,Renowned and skilled in all that you have done,

Who breaks God’s covenant shall find his ownA desert wind, across the wasteland blown.

You heard how Kavus strayed from what was right,At Iblis’ bidding, robbed of judgment’s light.

On eagles’ wings he climbed the heavens high,Then fell in Sari’s waters from the sky.

He brought from Hamavaran his Div-born bride;The royal women’s house was hers to guide.

Through her, the noble Siavash was slain;The royal house was overturned in pain.

No man should pass the gate or seek the nodOf one who turns from fealty to God.

If crown and throne are what you hope to claim,Then march with troops to Sistan for that aim.

When you arrive, bind Rostam’s hands; obeyThe charge I give, and bring him back this way.

Bring Rostam with the kamand round his arm,Bound fast, a captive, stripped of power to harm.

For Zal, Zavareh, Faramarz, take heed;Let none contrive a snare to thwart your deed.

Bring them on foot and make them run this way;Bring them before me, prince, without delay.

Then none will turn from us, however greatHis wealth or pleasure in his prosperous state.”

The chieftain frowned, displeasure in his eyes;He said, “Turn back from what you now devise.

Not Zal or Rostam is your true concern;Against your son your plotting thoughts now turn.

You grudge the royal throne I seek to gain;You would not have me in this world remain.

Keep crown and royal throne, as you desire;The world has corners where I may retire.

Yet I remain your servant, patient still,And bow my head before your royal will.”

Goshtasb replied, “Do not be angered so;This greatness shall be yours, as you shall know.

Choose many riders versed in battle’s art,Men who have long in warfare played their part.

Take arms and wealth, take soldiers as you need;Let every foe lament your coming deed.

Without you, troops and wealth and throne are vain;What use a crown, if I alone remain?”

He said, “I need no troops; when death draws near,God will not spare me with an army here.”

He left his father, angry at the crownWithheld, and how his father kept him down.

He reached his hall, his face a mask of grief,His sighs gave voice to pain beyond relief.

Much moved, with tearful cheeks, Katayun cameBefore her glorious son and spoke his name.

She said, “O crown of warriors, famed in fight,Whose name among the chiefs burns ever bright,

Bahman has told me you intend to rideFrom this rose-garden toward Zabul’s side,

And bind great Rostam, gorz and sword in hand,The son of Zal, whom you would now withstand.

Now hear the words your mother brings today;Do not rush into evil on your way.

That rider, strong as elephants in war,Would scorn the Nile when battle’s torrents roar.

He tore the White Div’s liver out by force;Before his sword the sun would leave its course.

He slew the king of Hamavaran outright,And none is bold enough to blame his might.

Against Afrasiab, for Siavash dead,He made the earth a sea of running red.

Do not give up your life for royal power;No newborn wears a crown in his first hour.

A curse upon this crown and royal throne,On killing, pillage, tumult they have sown!

Your father now is old, while you are young,With strength and valor through your sinews strung.

The army turns its gaze upon your face;Do not through anger fall into disgrace.

The world has places other than that landOf Sistan; do not raise a reckless hand.

Do not make me mourn in life and after death;Hear your mother’s grief in every breath.”

Esfandiyar replied, “My mother dear,Attend my words and keep your judgment clear.

Great Rostam is the man you know so well;His deeds, like sacred Zand, you read and tell.

Search all the heroes, wander where you may;No greater benefactor comes your way.

To bind him is a wrong, a deed of shame;Such evil ill becomes the royal name.

Yet do not break my heart with what you say;To break my heart would take my life away.

How can I turn from what the Shah commands,And cast away such kingship from my hands?

If Zabul marks the ending of my days,Then heaven draws me there through all its ways.

If Rostam comes obedient to my word,No harsh rebuke from me shall then be heard.”

His mother’s eyes rained blood; she tore her hair,And cried, “O raging elephant, beware!

Your strength has made you reckless with your life;Do not seek Rostam in unequal strife.

You are no match for him; you cannot standAgainst him; do not go without a band.

Do not go bearing life upon your ownShoulder before that elephant alone.

Your will to go is Ahriman’s own snare;Pause now, and from this road your children spare.

Do not lead children on their feet to hell;No sage would say that you have reasoned well.”

The prince replied, “My sons must come with me;To leave them here is no choice I can see.

When idleness becomes a young man’s way,His spirit darkens, and his thoughts decay.

I need them in the fight; no mighty force,Just kin and some companions on this course.”

At cockcrow the tabiras gave their roar;The elephantine chief rode out to war.

His army followed swiftly in his train;They moved like wind across the waking plain.

He marched until two roads appeared ahead;The elephants and troops no farther sped.

One road led on to Gombadan, and oneBent off toward Kabul, where its course would run.

The foremost camel sank upon the ground,As though it and the earth were joined and bound.

The driver struck its head; his staff blows rained,The caravan stood still, its march detained.

The prince received the omen with alarm,And feared the sign foretold approaching harm.

He bade them kill it, hoping ill would stayWith it, and farr would never turn away.

The warriors struck its head off where it lay,And then the star turned back that very day.

Though troubled by the omen he had known,He scorned the baleful star its sign had shown.

He said, “When one has conquered under grace,And lit the earth with fortune’s shining face,

He ought to smile, for every good and illComes down from God and moves beneath His will.”

Then toward the Hirmund he began to ride,Yet fear of hidden mishap walked beside.

As custom bade, they raised the tents in rows;Each chief the ground for his own station chose.

They pitched the canopy and placed the throne;The favored sat, whose fortune brightly shone.

He summoned wine and minstrels for his cheer,With Bishutan, his brother, seated near.

He cheered his heart with music and delight,And freed the nobles’ hearts from sorrow’s blight.

When aged wine had made their faces bloom,He spoke to friends and voiced his inward gloom.

“I turned from what my father bade me do,And strayed from his appointed pathway too.

He said, ‘Make Rostam’s bondage your concern;And from his degradation do not turn.’

I did not carry out my father’s will;For Rostam’s service guards Iran still.

He bore our chiefs’ great burdens in the fray;His heavy gorz set right a world astray.

From Shah to slave, Iran survives todayThrough him; no man can cast that truth away.

I need a scribe to ride, alert, aware,Whom Rostam’s craft and cunning cannot snare.

A rider graced with farr, with learning blessed,Who keeps in mind the words to him addressed.

If Rostam comes to us, his counsel’s lightMay make our dark deliberations bright.

If willingly he lets me bind him here,His wisdom bars the harm he has to fear.

I wish him only good in what I do,If he will keep his heart from malice too.”

Said Bishutan, “This is the way; maintainRespect for men, and on this path remain.”

Esfandiyar called Bahman to his side,And spoke at length of what the charge implied.

“Clothe all your limbs in Chin’s brocade and rideYour black steed with a prince’s royal pride.

Upon your head now set a kingly crown,With jewels fit to win the world’s renown.

Let all who see you mark your high command,And choose you from the chiefs throughout the land.

And know your birth is of the royal line,Remembering your Creator’s power divine.

Take five fine steeds with golden trappings dressed,And ten wise priests selected from the best.

With those distinguished priests of name and grace,Ride straight along the road to Rostam’s place.

Perform the errand with a willing mind;Greet him from us, speak gently, and be kind.

First greet him with the honor that is due,Then give him words from me, conveyed by you:

‘Let him who rises, ruling in his might,Secure from evil in his lofty height,

Give thanks to God through all his length of days,Who knows all goodness and deserves his praise.

But he who grows in good and shuns all wrong,Who keeps himself from evil all life long,

Shall see his treasure grow and gladly stayWithin this fleeting world that slips away.

By turning from all sordid aims below,He wins the garden where the blessed go.

With us both good and evil will not last;The wise know each, like day, is quickly passed.

Dark dust at last will be our final bed,While every spirit wings to God instead.

Whoever knows the good will strive to bringHis deeds into accord with every king.

You reap the crop you sow from year to year;Whatever words you speak, those words you hear.

Now let us weigh your deeds with faithful care,Without excess in praise or blame unfair.

You have lived long and watched kings rise and fall;You know what wisdom values over all.

It does not suit a man of heart and nameTo stray from wisdom’s road and earn new blame.

Great troops and treasure, crown and royal seat,Fine horses and great wealth lie at your feet.

My forebears placed these riches in your hand,For ready service to the king’s command.

Yet while Shah Lohrasp held the royal throne,You never came before him to be known.

And when Goshtasb received the royal seat,You never came to bow before his feet.

You never wrote, nor sought the royal gate,Nor brought the homage proper kings await.

You never came in service to his court;You name no king to whom you lend support.

From Hushang, Jamshid, Fereydoon’s ancient day,When Zahhak’s brood was swept from rule away,

Down to Kay Qobad, who assumed the crownThat Fereydoon had worn in old renown,

No monarch like Goshtasb has yet been knownIn feast, fight, counsel, hunting, crown, or throne.

He took the pure good faith into his hand,And drove both wrong and fault from the land.

His royal way shone like the sun in light;False teaching and the Div’s way fled from sight.

Then fierce Arjasp brought leopard troops to fight,Their chief a sea-beast in his raging might.

No man could count the warriors in his train,Nor measure half the strength upon the plain.

Our famous sovereign met him in the field,And made the foe beneath his onset yield.

The face of earth lay hidden by the dead,Their bodies heaped across the ground blood-red.

Until the Resurrection’s final day,That tale among the great will not decay.

He breaks the backs of lions in the fight;From west to east all bow before his might.

From far Turan to Sind and Rum’s wide lands,The world is wax within his mighty hands.

The desert, home of spearmen, sends its trainOf riders to the court where he holds reign.

They pay him toll and tribute, since they knowThey lack the strength to face him as a foe.

I speak, O champion, famed for strength and might,Because he has not found your conduct right.

You have not come before his royal court,Nor joined his chiefs in counsel or support.

Instead you chose in Zabul to remain,Concealed from all, apart from their domain.

Yet how can chiefs, unless all feeling ends,Forget the good you did for kings and friends?

In every task you raised your noble head,And did what former Shahs required and said.

If men should count the toils you had to bear,Your treasure could not pay for all your care.

No king accepts such conduct from a manWho serves him, since the rule of kings began.

Goshtasb has said, “Since Rostam’s wealth is vast,His province rich, his stores from ages past,

He stays in Zabul, sunk in ease and wine;He sets no hand to any task of mine.

When needed, he is absent from the field;At court or feast no loyalty’s revealed.”

The Shah grew angry, swearing in his mightBy shining day and by the dark-blue night:

“No chosen warrior of this camp shall seeHim in my court unless in bonds to me.”

For this I left Iran without delay;The Shah gave me no breath, no pause, no stay.

Beware the Shah; avoid his angry gaze;You know how fiercely wrath within it plays.

If you will come, obeying my command,And mourn the past neglect in which you stand,

Then by the sun and Zarir’s soul, I vow,By father’s life, that lion none can cow,

I swear to make the Shah repent outright,And raise this darkened moon to shining light.

Let Bishutan bear witness at my side;My soul and wisdom serve me as my guide.

I sought to bring the Shah to peace with you;Yet fault was all I found in what you do.

My father is the king; I serve his throne,And cannot leave his bidding for my own.

Now let your whole house gather and confer,And weigh what action all of you prefer.

Let Zal, Zavareh, Faramarz appear,With wise Rudabeh, seasoned year on year.

Hear all my counsel, every word I say;And trust these friendly words to show the way.

Your house must not be wrecked beneath their feet,To give Iran’s brave men their triumph sweet.

When I bring you in bonds before the throne,Then many faults before him shall be shown.

I shall stand pleading there before his eyes,And turn him from the wrath and hate that rise.

I shall not let a wind upon you blow;Such care my noble birth demands I show.’”

When Bahman heard the prince’s royal word,He took the road, by duty’s summons stirred.

He donned a robe of gold brocade and flame;A jeweled crown proclaimed his royal name.

Then proudly from the royal camp he rode;Behind him high his royal standard flowed.

The noble youth crossed Hirmund’s rushing tide,Tall as a cypress in his youthful pride.

The watchman saw him from the river’s side,And raised a cry through Zabul far and wide:

“A warlike horseman now has crossed the streamOn sable steed whose golden trappings gleam.

Behind him riders of a humbler rankPassed on at ease beside the riverbank.”

Zal mounted swiftly, heeding the alarm,His kamand strapped, his gorz upon his arm.

He reached the watchtower, saw Bahman draw near,And from his heart there rose a sigh of fear.

He said, “This is a Pahlevan of fame,In royal robes that well befit his name.

Indeed, he comes from Lohrasp’s royal line;May his arrival make our country shine.”

He left the tower and rode toward the gate,Then paused in thought, still mounted, there to wait.

Soon Bahman came, his royal banner high;He did not know old Zal as he rode by.

He called, his head held high as he drew near,“You, born of landed nobles, standing here,

Where is Zal’s son, the guardian of the state,The backbone of our age, renowned and great?

For great Esfandiyar has reached this land,And pitched beside the Hirmund with his band.”

Zal said, “My eager son, dismount and rest;Take wine and be received as honored guest.

Rostam returns from hunting on the plain,With Faramarz and Zavareh in his train.

Come with your horsemen here and ease your mind;Take drafts of wine and leave your haste behind.”

Bahman replied, “Esfandiyar’s commandWas not for wine, or minstrel, cup, or band.

Give me a guide to lead me to the chase;And let him ride with me to reach that place.”

Zal said, “What is your name, and why such speed?What urgent mission drives your eager steed?

I think you spring from Shah Lohrasp’s great line,Or from Goshtasb, whose royal honors shine.”

Bahman replied, “I am Bahman by name,Son of the brazen-bodied prince of fame.”

Then Zal dismounted, paying homage dueTo Bahman when his royal birth he knew.

Young Bahman smiled and stepped down from his steed;He heard Zal’s greeting and gave careful heed.

They greeted one another; Zal then pressed,“Stay, hero; do not leave in haste; take rest.”

Bahman replied, “We must not now delay,Or slight Esfandiyar’s command today.”

Zal chose Shirkhun, who knew the hunting road;The guide went with the prince; ahead he rode.

The seasoned guide led on, then pointed outThe hunting ground, and turned his horse about.

Before the youth, a mountain came in sight;He urged his charger upward to the height.

He looked below upon the hunting ground,And saw great Rostam, for his gorz renowned.

Like Mount Bistoon the mighty warrior stood;One hand held up a sapling from the wood.

A wild ass on the wood was skewered through;His gorz and gear lay close beside him too.

His other hand held wine within a bowl;His son attended him with watchful soul.

Rakhsh roamed the meadow while the landscape gleamedWhere grass grew, trees rose, and clear water streamed.

He thought, “Is this great Rostam in my sight,Or dawn’s bright sun that fills the world with light?

No famous ancient ever saw or heardOf such a man in deed or spoken word.

I fear brave Esfandiyar may have to yield,And lose his glory on the fatal field.

A boulder then shall crush him unaware,And plunge old Zal and Rudabeh in despair.”

He loosened from the height a flinty mass,And sent it roaring down the mountain pass.

Zavareh saw it hurtling toward the ground,And heard the mountain thunder with its sound.

He shouted, “Pahlevan, look to the height!A boulder hurtles down with deadly might!”

But Rostam neither moved nor set asideThe wild ass, while Zavareh loudly cried.

He waited till the stone had thundered low,While dust rose thick and dimmed the daylight’s glow.

Then with one kick he drove the boulder wide,While son and brother praised him at his side.

Bahman felt sick at heart at what was done,And marked his majesty beneath the sun.

He thought, “If Esfandiyar should face the fray,His glory may be darkened on that day.

Far better for my father to refrainFrom war and seek a peace they might maintain.

For should great Rostam win this fight, his handCould seize the whole of Iran’s royal land.”

He mounted then his wind-swift steed, and toreDown from the mountain, troubled to the core.

When he drew near the hunting ground, the oneUnrivaled, Rostam, saw him at a run.

He asked a comrade, “What is this youth’s name?I think from Shah Goshtasb’s own line he came.”

Then Rostam, with Zavareh and the rest,Went out to meet Bahman as honored guest.

They all went forth in formal ranks to meetBahman, who stepped down from his saddle seat.

They traded courtesies; then, for the truth,Great Rostam put this question to the youth:

“First tell me freely what your name may be;No nameless man gains what he seeks from me.”

The youth replied, “Renowned Bahman am I,Son of Esfandiyar, whose fame stands high.”

The Pahlevan, delighted at their meeting,Embraced him, begged pardon for his late greeting.

They went together to the place of rest,With nobles who their chief with honor blessed.

When Bahman sat, he gave the greetings due,From prince and Shah and Iran’s nobles too.

He said, “Esfandiyar has come like fire,Sent by the Shah to act on his desire.

Obedient to the Shah’s august command,He pitched his camp beside the Hirmund’s strand.

If noble Rostam now will hear from me,I bear the words of Esfandiyar’s decree.”

Rostam replied, “Young prince, you crossed a road;We first must ease your journey’s weary load.

First let us share the bounty we possess;Then all the world is yours to rule and bless.”

He spread soft bread and brought the roasted meat,A wild ass, hot and ready there to eat.

He laid the tablecloth before his guest,And spoke of former days as they took rest.

He seated his own brother at the spread,But called no other nobles to be fed.

Before himself he placed another beast,His customary portion at a feast.

He salted it, then cut and ate his share;Bahman looked on, astonished by the fare.

Young Bahman ate so little, scarce a bite;A hundredfold was Rostam’s appetite.

Then Rostam smiled: “The splendor borne by kingsIs meant to let them taste life’s pleasant things.

If this is all the food that you can stand,How did you cross the Stages of that land?

How do you wield the spear in battle’s heat,O prince, with such a small desire to eat?”

Bahman replied, “Let none of royal birthBe gluttonous or loose of tongue on earth.

Less food, more toil and battle mark his stand;He holds his life upon an open hand.”

Then Rostam smiled and said, “No man should hideHis manhood from mankind or veil his pride.”

He filled a golden bowl and drank a toastTo freeborn men whose honor he prized most.

He gave another: “Pledge a man you choose;Recall whatever name you wish to use.”

Young Bahman feared the cup; Zavareh drewA draft of wine, and spoke the blessing due:

“O royal child, may wine and drinkers beMade glad through you in all their festive glee.”

Then Bahman took the wine-cup in his hand,Still wondering at the hero of the land.

His appetite, his neck and arms so strong,His shoulders held the young man’s wonder long.

They mounted; Bahman gave, in full detail,His father’s words and greetings on the trail.

When Rostam heard, the ancient hero thought;Then answered with the care the message brought.

“I heard the message and rejoice in you;Bear Esfandiyar this answer, firm and true:

‘O lion-hearted chief, a mind made wiseWill weigh the grounds on which its actions rise.

When valor, fortune, treasure, high estateHave joined to make your name renowned and great,

When noble men regard you with delight,As now the world beholds your rising light,

You should not give your heart to evil ways,With all the honors of your present days.

Let us serve God, let justice be our stay;Do not clasp mischief’s hand or choose its way;

Words spoken without cause can bear no fruit,Like scentless trees that stand with barren root.

If greed should take your soul within its hold,Your toil will lengthen, profitless and cold.

A prince should speak with measured thought and skill;His lips should keep no place for words of ill.

Your servant once rejoiced when men would sayNo mother bore your equal in our day.

In valor, learning, wisdom, you excelYour forebears, as the men who praise you tell.

In Hind and Chin your fame is widely known;In Rum and sorcerers’ lands your name has grown.

I thank you for your counsel; I give praiseThrough three night watches, as throughout the days.

I prayed to God that I might see your face,And witness all your greatness and your grace.

Your manhood, love, and splendor I desired,The wish by which my heart was long inspired:

That we might sit in joy and lift the wineIn honor of the Shah, your king and mine.

Now I have reached the wish I sought before;I come in haste, your favor to implore.

Without my troops I come to hear from youThe Shah’s command and all he bids me do.

I bring the ancient royal grants I hold,From Khosrow back to Kay Qobad of old.

Now, matchless hero, look upon my case,My pain, my acts, my service, and my place.

Consider all the deeds that I have done,My hardship, toil, and battles I have won.

From ancient days until this present hour,I served the Shahs and upheld royal power.

If chains are all the wages that I earn,And harm from Iran’s Shah is my return,

Far better never to have drawn a breath,Or, having lived, to find an early death.

I come to speak my secrets, every word;Across the world my voice shall then be heard.

In leopard skin, on foot, I come to stand,A halter on my arm, bound by my hand,

As once I broke the mighty elephant’s neck,And cast it in the Nile, a broken wreck.

Then if some guilt in me is brought to light,Cut off my head, as judgment deems it right.

Keep words that wound away from me; impartTheir bitterness to grieve the Div’s own heart.

Do not speak words that none has spoken yet,Nor think the wind a thing your cage can net.

Great men can find a way through fire; but heWho cannot swim can never cross the sea.

You cannot hide the moon’s resplendent light,Nor set the fox beside the lion’s might.

Do not spread strife across the road I tread;In war my skill has filled the world with dread.

No man has seen me fettered in the field,No raging elephant has made me yield.

Act as a prince should act and take your stand;Do not keep Greed, the Div, at your right hand.

Put wrath and vengeance from your heart; be wise,And do not see the world through youthful eyes.

Cross now the stream in joy; may God bestowHis blessing as you to my household go.

Come feast with me; your servant waits for you,As once I served Kay Qobad, firm and true.

My heart and mind rejoice in you today;Do not remain, my prince, so far away.

If you will come to me with all your train,For two months let your troops with me remain.

Then men and horses shall have rest from toil,While foes grow blind with envy and recoil.

The game afield, the birds upon the stream,Will wait, though long your stay with me may seem.

I shall behold your strength, your sword in play,And see a lion or leopard fall as prey.

When you decide to leave with all your menAnd journey home to Iran’s Shah again,

I shall unlock the ancient treasure store,Won by my sword in years that came before.

All that I gathered by my arm’s own mightI lay before you, open to your sight.

Take what you wish and give the rest away;Do not bring grief upon this joyous day.

When you would see the Shah, I take the roadBeside you, rein to rein, to his abode.

I shall with pleading soothe his anger’s heat,And kiss his head, his eyes, and both his feet,

Then ask the wakeful Shah what cause he foundTo order that my feet should now be bound.’

Remember all my words and make them clearTo noble Esfandiyar when you draw near.”

When Bahman heard what Rostam had replied,A holy Mobad journeyed at his side.

But peerless Rostam lingered on the way,Then called Zavareh, Faramarz, to say:

“Go straight to Zal, who rules in Zabul’s land,And let him hear the charge that I command:

Esfandiyar has now arrived; his aimIs all the world, which he has come to claim.

Set in the halls a throne of shining gold,With royal cloth upon its seat unrolled.

Make preparations fit for royal state,As once for Kavus; now more rich and great.

Make every chamber more resplendent still,And load the tables with a generous will.

Let nothing fail in all the feast we bear;The Shah’s own son approaches; take due care.

He comes with vengeance, seeking out a fight,A famous prince, renowned for martial might.

He would not fear a plain where lions roam;I go to bid him welcome to my home.

If he accepts my welcome, hope remains;For every man hopes good is what he gains.

A crown of gold and ruby I shall bring,If I find kindness in this noble king.

My treasure and my gems I shall provide,With bargostvan and gorz and sword beside.

But if he sends me back with hope denied,No happy day awaits me at his side,

You know my twisted kamand’s coils can holdAn elephant’s great head, however bold.”

Zavareh answered him, “Have no such thought;No man without a grudge has battle sought.

In counsel and in courage, none I knowCan match this prince, wherever I may go.

No evil deed comes from a mind made wise;No wrong from us has come before his eyes.”

Zavareh went to Zal; but Rostam spedToward the Hirmund, full of fear and dread.

He reined in by the stream to wait and hearWhat greeting Bahman brought when he drew near.

When Bahman reached the royal dwelling place,He stood before his father face to face.

Then glorious Esfandiyar asked his son,“What answer have you from the peerless one?”

Then Bahman sat and told what he had heard;He gave his father Rostam’s every word.

He gave first Rostam’s greeting and reply,Then told what he had marked with careful eye.

He told his father what his eyes had seen,Describing Rostam’s strength and mighty mien.

“I never saw among the great or smallA man like Rostam, mightiest of all.

He has a lion’s heart and elephant’s size;He pulls, and from the Nile its great beasts rise.

He came, no jowshan, gorz, nor any traceOf helm or kamand, to the Hirmund’s place.

He longs to see you; yet I cannot sayWhat purpose guides him on his chosen way.”

Then Esfandiyar grew angry at his son,And shamed him in full court for what was done.

He said, “A noble man should not confideHis secrets to a woman at his side.

Send children on a weighty task and seeHow little strength and courage there will be.

What mighty warriors have you seen? Reply!You have not even heard a fox’s cry.

You make him a war elephant and shakeThe hearts of all these chiefs until they break.”

Then privately to Bishutan he said,“This lion still prepares for war ahead.

He bears himself as though still in his prime;He carries lightly all the weight of time.”

The prince commanded, “Saddle up the black;Place now the golden saddle on its back.”

A hundred horsemen from his chosen bandRode with him out beside the Hirmund strand.

He hastened to the Hirmund’s riverbank,His saddle’s twisted kamand at his flank.

Rakhsh neighed aloud upon the nearer side;The prince’s charger called across the tide.

Then Rostam rode from land into the stream;Dismounting, he addressed him with esteem.

When greetings passed, he said, “I prayed in graceThat God would guide you safely to this place,

That you and all your nobles might draw nearWith all your troops and safely meet me here.

Come, let us sit and let our words be wise,And in our talk let happy counsel rise.

Be sure that God Himself looks on and knows,And wisdom guides the words that I disclose.

I seek no glory through the words I share;No lie will pass my lips or cloud the air.

If Siavash now appeared before my sight,My heart could know no greater joy or light.

You seem like Siavash, and none beside,That crowned one whose gifts spread far and wide.

Blessed is the Shah who has a son like you;Your stature and your farr rejoice him too.

Blessed is Iran, whose people gladly waitUpon your throne and ever-watchful fate.

Ill-starred is he who fights you; from his throneHe falls to dust, his fortune overthrown.

May all your foes be filled with dread of you;May all ill-wishers’ hearts be torn in two.

May all your years be fortunate and bright;May Nowruz greet you in the blackest night.”

Then bright Esfandiyar left his royal steed,And clasped the hero, great in word and deed.

He called down blessings on the man of fame,And spoke with joy while praising Rostam’s name:

“Thank God, O chief of chiefs, that I beholdYour mind so bright, your spirit glad and bold.

It is but right that men should hail your worth,Whose fame makes heroes dust upon the earth.

Blessed is he who has a son like you;He sees the fruit upon the branch he grew.

Blessed is he who has in you a stay;No evil fortune strips his peace away.

In you I see Zarir, that lion’s might,The chief who felled great elephants in fight.”

Then Rostam said, “O wise and watchful chief,Whose spirit shines, hear now my wish in brief:

I have one wish, and if that wish were won,My heart would rest content beneath the sun.

Come visit me in state, and make my soulBright with your sight, restored and glad and whole.

Though little there may suit your royal state,We shall provide the best within our gate.”

Esfandiyar replied, “O hero, youSurvive the mighty men the whole world knew.

All Iran takes delight in your great name,And in a man of such enduring fame.

Your counsel must not lightly be dismissed,Nor should your land and dwelling place be missed.

Yet I may not, in private or in sight,Turn from the Shah’s command to left or right.

He did not bid me linger in this land,Or fight the nobles here at his command.

Act so that fortune’s fruit remains your own;Walk in the path the king of kings has shown.

Set bonds upon your feet without delay;A monarch’s bonds bring no disgrace your way.

When I bring you in bonds before his eyes,The blame for this on him alone then lies.

Though seeing you in bondage wounds my heart,I shall serve you and never stand apart.

You shall not stay in bonds till day is through;If any hurt or harm should come to you,

Regard it all as good; the Shah will sendNo harm to you, on that you may depend.

When I am crowned and rule throughout the land,I shall entrust the world into your hand.

No sin before the just God shall I bear,Nor shame before the Shah whose crown I wear.

When you return to Zabul in the daysWhen garden roses bloom beneath your gaze,

You shall receive much treasure from my hand,Enough to grace and beautify your land.”

Then Rostam said, “O noble prince, I soughtFrom God the joy your presence would have brought:

To find my heart made happy at your sight,And in your words to find my soul’s delight.

We both are wise, one old and one still young,Two watchful Pahlevans from honor sprung.

I fear the evil eye may break the deepContentment, waking us from pleasant sleep.

The Div finds room between us in this hour,And bends your heart to crown and throne and power.

Such an affair would bring me lasting shame,A wound forever fastened to my name:

That such a chieftain, high-born, brave, and great,Should not come as my guest within my gate.

Come gladly to my house and be my guestWithin this land; then let our quarrel rest.

Cast out your enmity and strive to quellThe Div by working on him with a spell.

Your words bring joy; I yield to your command,Except these bonds upon my foot and hand.

Bonds bring defeat and shame; none shall see meAlive in chains. That is my firm decree.”

Esfandiyar replied, “O heroes’ pride,Your words are truth; let falsehood stand aside.

No man gains light through lies; Bishutan knowsThe Shah’s commands that sent me where he chose.

If I should come as guest within your hall,While you refuse the Shah’s command and call,

My day would darken; should we come to fight,I would assume the leopard’s wrath and might.

For should I fight with you, our bond would break,The right of bread and salt I would forsake.

My claim to noble birth would be in doubt,If I should cast that binding duty out.

But if I disobey the Shah’s desire,My dwelling in the next world will be fire.

Yet since you wish it, let one day be spentWith wine in hand, and hearts on peace intent.

Who knows what fate tomorrow will allot?We need not weave a tale of what is not.”

Said Rostam, “I agree; I shall go backAnd shed the clothes I wore upon the track.

For seven days I hunted, and insteadOf lamb, on meat of wild ass I have fed.

Call me at mealtime when you take your seatAmong your kin, and I shall come to eat.”

He mounted Rakhsh, his thoughts a troubled weight,And hurried homeward to the palace gate.

He saw the face of Zal, great Sahm’s own son,And said, “Famed chief, the meeting now is done.

I went today to see Esfandiyar,A prince like cypress, graced with royal farr.

He is a man of wisdom, grace, and light,With royal glory shining in my sight.

Fereydoon seemed to place within his careHis greatness and his wisdom, both to bear.

His presence stands above what rumor tells;Imperial farr within his being dwells.”

When Rostam left the Hirmund’s riverbank,Esfandiyar in troubled silence sank.

Then Bishutan, his counselor, drew near,And came into the prince’s tent to hear.

The hero said, “We held this hard affairToo lightly, giving it too little care.

I have no business in his hall, and heHas no occasion here to visit me.

If he comes not, I shall not call him near;If either’s mortal measure fills up here,

The living heart will burn for him who dies,And tears of fond remembrance fill his eyes.”

Then Bishutan replied, “What brother standsLike famed Esfandiyar in all these lands?

By God, when I saw you two face to face,And neither sought a quarrel in that place,

My heart became like springtime in its cheer,For Rostam’s sake and yours together here.

But looking at your case, I saw the wayThe Div blocks reason’s path and leads astray.

You know this matter well and understandYour father’s counsel and our God’s command.

Take care; do not endanger your own life;Hear now your brother and avoid this strife.

I heard his words; his greatness came to light,With noble kindness joined to all his might.

No bonds will chafe the feet of Zal’s great son;Your bond will not be lightly sought or won.

That horseman of the world will not, in play,Put his head in a snare and be its prey.

I fear this quarrel may grow fierce and long,Between two proud men, each so great and strong.

You are a mighty prince, whose wits exceedGoshtasb’s, and stronger in each warlike deed.

When one seeks feast and one pursues a feud,Judge which of these displays the nobler mood.”

“Defy the Shah?” the prince said. “Men would cryAgainst my choice, and God would ask me why.

Both worlds for Rostam I will not let go;No needle has sewn shut the world’s eye so.”

Then Bishutan said, “All advice I knewTo help your soul and body, I gave you.

I have said all; now choose the nobler way;A prince should lift his heart from wrath today.”

He called upon the cooks to bring the fare;He sent no man to bid Rostam to share.

His meal now done, he called for wine and toldOf deeds at Ruyin Dezh, both brave and bold.

He drank to the Shah amid his martial boast,Recalling his own valor with the toast.

But Rostam stayed within his palace wall,And did not eat, still waiting for the call.

A long while passed; no messenger drew near,Though Rostam watched the road for one to appear.

When feast-time passed and patience ebbed away,The hero would no longer bear delay.

He smiled and said, “My brother, deck the board;Summon the noble men with one accord.

If this is Esfandiyar’s chosen way,Remember well his custom from today.”

He bade them saddle Rakhsh and make him fineWith saddle trappings made in Chin’s design.

“I go to speak to him, who chose to slightOur business, treating all its weight as light.”

Like some great elephant, he climbed astride;Rakhsh’s loud neigh rang out two farsangs wide.

He hurried toward the river and the men;The troops pressed close to gaze on him again.

All hearts chose love for him as on he came;They cried, “He seems like Sahm, that chief of fame.

He sits, an iron mountain, on that steed;Rakhsh seems like Ahriman in strength and speed.

Should he oppose an elephant, its headWould have dark indigo upon it spread.

The king must have a mind bereft of light,To send such farr and prowess into fight:

The moonlike prince, Esfandiyar the great,Against this chief, to meet a deadly fate.

Goshtasb grows more greedy for his gold,More proud of seal and crown as he grows old.”

Esfandiyar came forth to show respect,And gave the welcome Rostam could expect.

Said Rostam, “Pahlevan, young prince of state,Your ways are new; your fortune has been great.

Your guest, it seems, was worth no summons sent;Your promise was a wind that came and went.

Remember all I say; do not be boldIn senseless rage toward one who has grown old.

You think too highly of yourself today,And find these mighty chiefs get in your way.

You hold my courage light, my counsel small,And think my knowledge hardly counts at all.

Know I am Rostam; through me shines the lineOf Nariman, whose lineage is mine.

The black Div gnaws his hand; I make him quail,And send the sorcerers into a jail.

When chiefs beheld my babr armor’s might,My mount, a roaring lion in their sight,

They left the field before a blow was thrown,Their bows and arrows left behind, alone.

Kamus, that warrior, felt my kamand’s coil;The Khan of Chin was dragged down to the soil.

I dragged them from their saddles to defeat,And bound them captive, both their heads and feet.

I guard the Shahs and all Iran; I standBehind the brave in each and every land.

Do not mistake my plea, nor hold your headAbove the heavens for the words I said.

Your farr and royal state drew me to you,To seek your counsel and your friendship too.

I do not wish a prince of such renownTo fall through me, by Fortune broken down.

I call great Sahm a hero; at his strideThe lions left the woods and fled aside.

I am his memory living on the earth,O royal prince of valor, fame, and birth.

Long have I been the world’s great champion, freeOf evil deeds that leave their stain on me.

I cleansed the world of foes; the toil and strainHave lined my face with wrinkles born of pain.

I thank my God that in these later daysI see my peer, a prince of royal praise.

You shall avenge the Faith; on every tongueYour praise throughout the world shall then be sung.”

Then smiling, prince Esfandiyar replied,“O son of Sahm, I see your wounded pride.

No summons came; you took it as a slight.I sought no glory through it, nor delight.

The day was hot, the road was long to ride;I would not trouble you; put wrath aside.

I said, ‘At dawn I shall set out; I needTo seek your pardon for my graceless deed.

To see old Zal would fill my heart with cheer,And you would gladden me when I drew near.’

But since you came yourself and rode this way,And left your home to cross the plain today,

Sit down and rest; take up the cup of wine,And let no wrath disturb this feast of mine.”

He placed great Rostam on his left-hand side;The gathering was graced by him, its pride.

The Pahlevan said, “This is no place for me;I sit where I decide my place shall be.”

Upon the right, he ordered them to layHis seat, arranged precisely in his way.

He told the prince in anger, “Open wideYour eyes; behold my stature and my pride.

Regard my prowess and my noble seed;From valiant Sahm I spring in word and deed.

A man needs merit and a noble start,A generous hand, a just and giving heart.

Though you may have no seat to match my state,My wisdom, judgment, triumph still are great.”

Then came the order; to the royal seatThey brought a golden chair, set at its feet.

Rostam, still angry, sat upon the gold,A fragrant citron in his hand to hold.

Then Esfandiyar spoke thus to Rostam’s face:“O kindly chief, whom fame and honor grace,

From Mobadan I heard this tale of old;From chiefs and wakeful sages it was told:

That Zal was base, and from a Div was born;His lineage merits nothing more than scorn.

They hid the child from Sahm for many a day,And deemed him born to bring the world dismay.

His face and hair were white, his body dark;Sahm saw him and despaired of that strange mark.

He bade them take him to the sea, away,Where birds and fish might make the child their prey.

The Simorgh came, her wings spread out to fly;No noble bearing, no farr met her eye.

She carried him aloft to her retreat,Where no one found the infant’s presence sweet.

Though hunger gnawed, the Simorgh’s scorn was plain;She held his body worthless, in disdain.

He ate the carrion scraps that she had shed;Unclothed, despised, on cast-off flesh he fed.

In time the Simorgh came to love the child;And so the years passed by him in the wild.

She took him to Sistan, his body bare,After he lived on carrion for his fare.

Childless, Sahm took him; what a foolish mind!What ways of Divs, what manners, crude in kind!

The Shahs and mighty men from my own race,My forebears and well-wishers gave him place.

They gave him rank and goods in full supply;Years passed, and he grew cypress-like and high.

That cypress branched; its crown stayed whole; it grew,And bore its fruit in Rostam; namely you.

Through manhood, stature, looks, he rose so great,His fortunes seemed to climb to heaven’s gate.

Thus, he gained kingship, swollen in his pride,And cast the ways of piety aside.”

Then Rostam answered, “Take heed of my word;Why speak such things as no one gladly heard?

Your heart breeds crookedness; the Divs supplyThe nourishment that lifts your spirit high.

Speak as befits a king whose rule is just;A Shah speaks only truth, which men may trust.

God knows that Zal, great Sahm’s illustrious son,Has wisdom, greatness, and fair honor won.

And Sahm was born to noble Nariman,That hero, sprung from mighty Kariman.

Hushang, the crowned king, stands within our line,Whose royal ancestry is also mine.

You must have heard of peerless Sahm’s renown;No other name in his age wore such a crown.

First came the dragon, ravaging Tus’s land,From whose fierce grip no man could free his hand.

At sea a nahang, leopard on dry ground,Its fire scorched rock and earth the country round.

It burned the fishes’ heads in waterways,And scorched the vultures’ wings amid the blaze.

It sucked in elephants; the thought aloneCould turn a cheerful heart as cold as stone.

Another was a Div of malice, vast,Its head in heaven, on earth its body cast.

The sea of Chin came halfway up its frame;The sunlight harmed it with its burning flame.

It lifted fish from water far below,Its head beyond the heavens’ dome would go.

The sun would roast the fish it held on high;It made the wheeling heavens weep and cry.

These two great monsters both lay lifeless then,By Sahm’s sword slain, that mighty chief of men.

My mother, Mehrab’s daughter, shares his line;He made the realm of Sind in splendor shine.

Five fathers back, her lineage reached the crownOf Zahhak, high among kings of renown.

Who has a nobler lineage than this?No wise man trades the truth for falsehood’s kiss.

Throughout the world, wherever heroes be,They ought to seek their skill and strength from me.

I hold the grant that Kavus gave me first;Against me no excuse may be rehearsed.

I hold one too from righteous Kay Khosrow,Whose like no Kayanian king could show.

My wanderings have covered all the earth;I slew the unjust kings and proved my worth.

When I crossed Jihun, Afrasiab took flight;To Chin from Turan fled that man of might.

For Kavus, at war in Hamavaran,I went alone into Mazandaran.

Arzhang and White Div fell beneath my hand;Nor could Sanja, Pulad Ghandi, or Bid stand.

And for our monarch’s sake, I slew my son,My wise, brave boy, the best beneath the sun.

No warrior matched Sohrab in strength and name,In courage, tested skill, and battle fame.

Six hundred years and more have passed awaySince I was born of Zal, until this day.

The world’s Pahlevan, so men called me, trueIn public and in private, through and through.

As noble Fereydoon once wore the crown,And hurled Zahhak with head and diadem down,

And Sahm, our forebear, with discerning mindLeft knowledge and alchemy far behind,

So, third, when I put on the warrior’s belt,The crowned king’s ease throughout the world was felt.

No days had known such joy; no outlaw’s traceWas found about the fortress in that place.

For I was then triumphant through the land,With sword and heavy gorz within my hand.

I speak so you may know what I have told;You are the Shah; the chiefs are in your fold.

You are a newcomer, though you may glowWith all the royal farr of Kay Khosrow.

You see yourself alone; you cannot findThe hidden matters kept beyond your mind.

Enough of words; I shall take up the wine,And crush this anxious thought, this care of mine.”

When Esfandiyar heard what Rostam said,He smiled; his heart with swelling joy was fed.

He answered, “I have heard your toil and pain,The deeds and cares that made your spirit strain.

Now listen to the deeds my hand has done,The place above the chiefs that I have won.

For Faith I cinched my belt and cleared the landOf idol-worshippers on every hand.

Earth disappeared beneath the heaps of slain;No warrior had seen such war and pain.

Goshtasb, my father, comes of Lohrasp’s line;The seed of those two kings is also mine.

Lohrasp was son of Aurand, king of state,Whose name and standing in his time were great.

Aurand from Kay Pashin’s lineage came,Whose father’s blessings honored Pashin’s name.

Pashin came from Kay Qobad’s royal seed,A king of wisdom, just in thought and deed.

Pursue my line to Fereydoon, whose throneAdorned the world he ruled and called his own.

My mother, too, is Caesar’s child; his reignHolds Rum, the realm he rules as his domain.

And Caesar springs from Salm, whose noble seedHas farr and justice, ordered law and creed.

Salm was the son of Fereydoon; his nameAmong the kings won sovereign rank and fame.

I speak, and none can say my words are lies;Wrong paths are many; few are right and wise.

Before my fathers, wakeful, great, and brave,You and your forebears held the rank of slave.

No hidden mystery lies in what I say;My kings bestowed your greatness, though your way

Was quick toward vengeance. Hear what I recount;Raise up your hand for truth in the account.

Since Shah Lohrasp gave Goshtasb the throne,My belt stays cinched; my strength and luck are known.

For those who went to Chin, revenge their aim,No voices rose thereafter in acclaim.

Then, at Gurazm’s words, my father boundMe, far from feasts where merriment was found.

Then ruin reached Lohrasp while chained I lay,And Turkish forces hid the earth that day.

Jamasp brought smiths to free me; they were slow,While all my heart was set to strike a blow.

I shouted at the smiths; my patience fled,And from their hands I pulled myself instead.

I rose up from my seat, and with my handBroke shackles, chains, and every binding band.

Then I went to that field of bitter fate,Where Fortune had diminished Goshtasb’s state.

Before me fled Arjasp and his array,The famed companions fleeing on their way.

I girded my belt, with courage, for the chase,And followed like a lion, fierce of face.

You heard what in my Seven Stages came:The Divs and all their mighty group of fame.

By guile I entered Ruyin Dezh and hurledConfusion through its realm, upturned its world.

I sought revenge for all Iran; I tiedMy belt for blood of chiefs who fought and died.

You heard my deeds in Chin, and all the strainOf toil and hardship in Turan’s domain.

No gur from any leopard ever tookSuch pain, nor nahang’s mouth from fisher’s hook.

High on a mountain, far from human call,There stood a fortress towering over all.

Its people worshipped idols; all around,Confused as drunken men, they could be found.

Since days of Tur and Fereydoon of fame,No man in all the world had named its name.

By valor I took all that fortress held;Its idols, dashed to earth, I broke and felled.

I raised the Fire that Zardosht bore in flame,Within a brazier; from Paradise it came.

Through victory the one just God bestowed,I took again to Iran’s homeward road.

No enemy remained in any place;No Brahman in the temples left a trace.

Alone I sought the battle and its strain;No man in combat bore for me my pain.

Our words have lengthened; let them come to rest;Lift up the cup if thirst is in your breast.”

Then Rostam spoke to prince Esfandiyar:“Our deeds endure; no time their fame can mar.

Now hear in simple justice what I say,A famed old man whose words you ought to weigh.

Had I not crossed Mazandaran alone,My heavy gorz across my shoulder thrown,

Where lay the Shah, Gudarz, and Tus in chains,Their eyes grown dark beneath their grief and pains,

Who would have torn the White Div’s heart and brain?Who hoped his arm could meet so great a strain?

I brought the king from bonds back to his throne;Iran rejoiced; good fortune was his own.

I cut the heads from all the sorcerer crew;No vault, no shroud, no grave became their due.

Through Seven Stages, Rakhsh was at my side;My sharp sword won the world, both far and wide.

When Kavus went to Hamavaran’s seat,They fastened heavy fetters on his feet.

I took an army of Iran to fight,To where the chieftain held his place of might.

I killed their king amid the battle’s roar,And made its famous throne a throne no more.

The monarch Kay Kavus lay in their snare,Worn down by grief and burdened by despair.

Afrasiab held Iran in that hour;The world lay sick with pain beneath his power.

One dark night, I went on alone, ahead;I sought for fame, not ease upon a bed.

He saw my shining banner drawing near,And heard my Rakhsh’s neigh ring loud and clear.

He fled Iran, and Chin became his goal;The world gave thanks when justice took control.

Had blood poured from Kay Kavus’s neck, how thenCould Siavash have come among us men?

Had no blessed mother borne Kay Khosrow, whoWould crown Lohrasp, as Khosrow lived to do?

Why boast of Lohrasp’s crown and royal state,Of Goshtasb’s throne, and call their kingship great?

He bids you bind these hands! What vain design!Not even high heaven shall bind hands like mine;

Without me, where would you have found your throne,Your crown, your ivory seat to call your own?

You are the world’s Pahlevan; your seedIs Kayanian, royal in its breed.

From boyhood to this hour of age and gray,No man had spoken so, until today.

My pleading brings me shame; my soft addressDiminishes my worth to something less.”

Prince Esfandiyar laughed at Rostam’s stand,Then firmly gripped the mighty hero’s hand.

He said, “O Rostam, elephant in frame,All men have spoken truly of your fame.

Your arm is thick as any lion’s limb;Your chest and neck, a dragon’s, strong and grim.

Your leopard’s waist is narrow, lean and slight,And twists and turns upon the day of fight.”

He squeezed the hand of Rostam as he spoke;The old man laughed at youth, as at a joke.

From Rostam’s nails the yellow fluid ran;Yet all that pain could not stir such a man.

Then Rostam took his hand and gripped it too:“O king who worships God, I speak to you:

Blessed is famous Shah Goshtasb today,To have a son whose fame none can gainsay.

Blessed is he who gains so fine a son;Through you the world has greater glory won.”

He spoke and held the prince’s hand; the redOf blood across the prince’s features spread.

The prince’s nails welled bloody water; painDrew tight his brows beneath the gripping strain.

Then fortunate Esfandiyar laughed free,And said, “Renowned Rostam, hear this from me:

Drink wine today; tomorrow in the fightWill see you writhe and lose the feast’s delight.

When my black steed is saddled for the frayWith gold, and I don my royal helm that day,

I shall unhorse you, striking with my spear;No feud or vengeance will you seek from here.

I shall bring you, hands bound, before the throne,And say, ‘No fault in him to me was shown.’

I shall entreat him; every point at stakeBetween you shall be settled for your sake.

I shall free you from grief and bitter strain;You shall have wealth and treasure after pain.”

Then Rostam smiled at prince Esfandiyar,And said, “You shall have war enough, by far.

Where have you seen the clash of battle’s course?Where felt the wind of heavy gorzes’ force?

If this is now the aspect of the sky,Love between two such men will fade and die.

Revenge shall come in place of ruddy wine,And bow and kamand, ambush and design.

Tabiras’ roar shall take the harp’s own place;With sword and gorz we then shall greet your face.

Then, glorious Esfandiyar, your eyesWill see the rush and pulse of battle rise.

Tomorrow, when you fight, we two shall standAs man meets man upon the battle land.

I shall seize you from saddle in embrace,And carry you to Zal’s exalted place.

Then seat you on the famed ivory throne,And crown you with the crown I made my own,

The crown of Kay Qobad, the heart’s delight;May Paradise make glad his spirit bright.

I shall unlock my hoards; their riches, too,I shall array in full in front of you.

I shall relieve your troops of all their dearth,And by that act shall raise your crown in worth.

Then I shall go before the Shah; the wayShall see me glad, triumphant, light and gay.

By valor I shall crown you and shall earnThe gratitude of Goshtasb in return.

Then I shall gird my belt to serve, as whenI served the Kayanian kings of men.

I shall clear all the garden’s thorns, and throughMy joy make this old body fresh and new.

When you are Shah and I your Pahlevan, whoCould keep his life and stand against us two?”

Esfandiyar replied, “Enough of speech;These endless words have nothing more to teach.

My belly hungers; half the day is gone;Our talk of strife and battle still runs on.

Bring what you have; let food be served instead,But call no man who talks too much,” he said.

When food was spread and Rostam took his seat,They watched amazed at how the chief could eat.

Esfandiyar and all his heroes laidBefore him lambs in lavish spread displayed.

He ate them all, while prince and people stared;The prince’s wonder all his people shared.

The prince said, “Bring a cup; let raw wine pourIn place of cooked wine served to us before.

Now see what Rostam seeks in wine today,And what of Kay Kavus he has to say.”

The cupbearer brought wine; the cup was wideEnough to let a ship sail on its tide.

He drank to the king of kings; that spring of redHe drained till dust rose from its empty bed.

The young cupbearer turned again and boreThe royal wine, replenished as before.

Then Rostam spoke to Bishutan aside:“Why must your water in this wine reside?

Why pour in water, weakening the biteOf ancient wine and robbing it of might?”

Then Bishutan gave orders: “Fill the bowlWith wine and let no water spoil the whole.”

Wine came; they called the minstrels to the feast,And still their wonder at him had not ceased.

The hour of parting neared; the ruby shineRose in great Rostam’s face, suffused with wine.

Then Esfandiyar spoke: “May joy attendYour life as long as time has days to spend.

May wine and all you ate bring you delight;May truth sustain your soul and give it might.”

Then Rostam said, “O prince, may wisdom’s voiceAdmonish you and guide your inward choice.

The wine I drink with you is sweet; it bringsSustenance to the soul where wisdom springs.

If from your heart this hatred you release,Your greatness and your wisdom will increase.

Come from this field, my happy guest to be;Spend some time in my house, in joy with me.

Come grace our house with joy, and do not stayApart from me, your servant, far away.

Then I shall keep each promise I have made,With wisdom brought before you for your aid.

Rest, shun all ill; let human kindness beYour aim, and let your mind awake and see.”

Esfandiyar, the hero, answered so:“Sow no such seed; no shoots from it will grow.

Tomorrow you shall see what heroes do,When I bind tight my girdle facing you.

Do not praise yourself; return today,And make your preparations for the fray.

In battle you shall see me and shall findThe selfsame man with whom at wine you dined.

Accept my counsel, heed the Shah’s commands;Come, let the royal bonds enclose your hands.

Know, before God, the Shah’s command is oneWith God’s own word; give thanks and see it done.

When I leave Zabul, I shall make my wayTo Iran, where the Shah and heroes stay.

You shall see more prowess than words express;Seek not to bring me, through this work, distress.”

Then grief and thought weighed down great Rostam’s breast;The world appeared a forest of unrest.

He thought, “To give my hands into his chain,Or rise and hurt him, both are shame and stain.

Both courses are inglorious and base;Both set a bitter precedent in place.

If bonds are mine, my name will suffer blame;Goshtasb will bring my end to grief and shame.

Wherever men repeat this tale, the stainOf lasting blame shall on my name remain.

They will say, ‘A youth came to Zabul; flightFailed Rostam, and his feet were fettered tight.’

Then all my fame will rot in lasting shame;No hue or scent will linger of my name.

But if he falls upon the battlefield,My face before all kings will pale and yield.

They shall declare, ‘He slew the youthful heirBecause the prince’s taunts he could not bear.’

When dead, they will revile me where I lie,And call me faithless underneath the sky.

Again, if I should perish by his hand,All Zabul’s hue and scent will leave the land.

The name of Dastan, Sahm’s own son, will fall;No man from Zabul will find fame at all.

Yet men at least shall quote good words from me,When I have passed beyond what eyes can see.

If any word of counsel stayed unsaid,Then wisdom would demand my life instead.”

Then to that noble-minded prince he said,“Concern has made my face grow pale with dread.

Why speak so much of bonds before my sight?I fear they bring you sorrow, grief, and blight.

Unless high heaven wills it otherwise,No man can read the turning of the skies.

These counsels come from Divs, and now you turnFrom wisdom’s words a prudent man should learn.

You are still green and guileless; understandYour death is sought by him who rules the land.

While Goshtasb holds the royal seat and crown,He will not set his thirst for kingship down.

He keeps you roaming through a world of pain,And rears you through its hardships, strain on strain.

He searched the world with wisdom’s axe in hand,His wit an adze to shape the work he planned:

To find a famous man who would not yieldOr turn from fighting you upon the field,

So that the warrior’s hand might do you harm,And crown and throne be subject to his arm.

For this, I may cry curses on the crown,And on a pillow made of dust lie down.

Will you expose my soul to lasting blame?Why will you not examine well your aim?

You bring this pain upon yourself; beware:Think ill and ill will be your coming share.

Do not act boyishly, O prince; refrain;Delight not in the ill that brings us pain.

Do not bring sorrow on our souls today;Keep harm from both our lives, I beg and pray.

Respect both God and me; do not betrayMy life or yours by taking such a way.

You have no need to fight with me, or bendYour strength toward this assault, or thus contend.

Fate drives you with your troops toward your last breath;My hand will bring you ruin and your death.

My name will live in shame; may Goshtasb seeAn evil end for what he brings on me!”

When proud Esfandiyar had heard him through,He said, “Famed Rostam, hear what I tell you:

Recall the words an ancient sage once said,When wisdom and his soul were joined and wed:

‘An aged trickster is a fool; successAnd wisdom do not make his folly less.’

You ply these tricks, still hoping to evadeThe collar and the bonds for you now laid.

You wish all those who hear your words to takeYour fair speech for the truth, for your own sake;

To call my counsel foul, and you the manOf wisdom, doing all the good he can.

They will say, ‘With fair bearing Rostam cameAnd offered hope; the prince deserves the blame:

He turned from Rostam’s words, though Rostam’s partHad been to treat him well, with generous heart.

He held each plea in scorn; his tongue let fallIts bitter words in answer to them all.’

Know that I will not turn away, disownThe Shah’s command, for either crown or throne.

Through him come good and evil; in his handMy Hell and Paradise together stand.

May what you ate today bring strength to you,And harm to all who wish you evil too.

Now go to Zal in safety and repeatAll that you saw and heard when we did meet.

Prepare your weapons; all for battle layIn readiness and have no more to say.

Come fight at dawn; prepare, and do not stayProlonging this affair with more delay.

Tomorrow, on the field, before your sightThe world will darken, losing all its light.

You shall learn how the valiant meet and fight,How true men wage their battles in their might.”

Then Rostam said, “O prince of lion’s heart,If this is your wish, I shall do my part.

On swift Rakhsh I shall greet you face to face;Your head shall taste my gorz’s hard embrace.

You heard the men around you; what they saidYou took on trust, and kept within your head:

‘No sword, however fierce the battle’s strife,Can harm Esfandiyar or end his life.’

Tomorrow you will see my spear, and feelHow, with the reins drawn round, my horse can wheel.

Thereafter you will never seek a fightWith men renowned upon the field of might.”

The young man laughed; his noble nature gaveWay to that laughter and became its slave.

He said, “O seeker after fame, take heed;Why did our talk rouse anger with such speed?

Tomorrow you shall learn on battle’s plainWhat proven men can do through strife and pain.

My horse is like a mountain; here I stand,One man alone, without a warrior band.

Should my gorz’s wind touch your head, then weepYour mother shall, with liver’s anguish deep.

If you live, I shall bind you fast and rideTo the Shah, with you upon my saddle tied.

So that no servant, trusting in his arm,Shall rise in war to do his sovereign harm.”

When Rostam left the tent, he paused to wait,And stood a while before its outer gate.

He spoke to it: “O house of hope and fame,Blessed were the days when Jamshid through you came.

Great were your days when mighty Kavus reigned,And under Kay Khosrow that joy remained.

Your door of farr is shut; no worth is shownBy him who sits upon your royal throne.”

Esfandiyar heard Rostam’s words and cameOn foot to meet the warrior of fame.

He said, “O man of judgment, why displaySuch anger at this royal tent today?

A sage might call this land Ghulghulistan:‘The land of uproar’ suits Zabulistan.

A guest, once fed, repays his host with blame,And speaks with scorn the gardener’s very name.”

Then to the tent: “Ill were the days you knewWhen Jamshid found his shelter here in you.

Yet he forsook the path that God had shown,And lost earth’s joy and Paradise his own.

You served Shah Kavus as a sheltering wall,And spread your shade above his soldiers all.

He sought God’s mysteries; he searched the skiesTo see the stars made clear before his eyes.

He filled the earth with tumult and with raids,With clubs and plunder, and with khanjar blades.

Goshtasb now owns you, and Jamasp is near,Before his presence, honored, wise, and clear.

On one side sits Zardosht; from ParadiseHe came with Zand-Avesta’s wise advice.

Good Bishutan sits facing him; his mindLeaves worldly grief and pleasure far behind.

In front stands glorious prince Esfandiyar,Who gladdens turning heaven, every star.

Good hearts revive through him; his sword has madeThe wicked bow in bondage, all afraid.”

The mounted hero left; the prince’s eyeFollowed the famous horseman passing by.

He turned to Bishutan: “We cannot hideSuch valor; prowess must not be denied.

No horse or horseman like him have I known;How he will fare in battle is not shown.

If armed he comes to meet me, breast to breast,He looms, an elephant on Mount Gang’s crest.

His farr and handsome form delight the sight;I fear tomorrow brings him down in fight.

The glory of his face inflames my heart,Yet from the Maker’s word I will not part.

When Rostam comes tomorrow to the field,By me his shining day to night shall yield.”

Then Bishutan replied, “Now hear my plea;My brother, stop; this must not come to be.

I told you once and now repeat my view:My heart will never turn from what is true.

Oppress no man; no noble will remainWith head bowed down to injury and pain.

Rest here tonight; at dawn, with none beside,Go to his palace; let this grief subside.

Let us make glad the day within his hall,And answer what they ask us, one and all.

Among the mighty and among the least,His deeds bring good to all, from west to east.

He will not turn from what you bid him do;I find his heart keeps faith and pledge with you.

Why speak with hate and wrath? Wash hate awayFrom your heart; clear your eyes of wrath today.”

The prince replied, “The rose garden has borneWithin one corner an unwelcome thorn.

A man of pure religion would not chooseSuch words as those you now have dared to use.

If you are Iran’s dastur, heart and earAnd eye of warriors, then make this clear:

How can you praise a course, however wise,That brings the Shah’s dishonor to our eyes?

Then all our cares and labors go to waste,And Zardosht’s faith lies openly disgraced.

It teaches those who break the Shah’s commandWill find their place in Hell’s consuming land.

You tell me, ‘Sin! Reject the Shah today;Turn from the words of Goshtasb; disobey.’

You speak, but how can I pursue that way,And turn from what he thinks and has to say?

If you have fears for me, dismiss them now;Today I break that fear, and show you how:

No man dies till his time; a man of fameDoes not die, for he leaves a mighty name.

Tomorrow you shall see me face and fightThis clawed nahang and show a warrior’s might.”

Said Bishutan, “O king, why must you dwellOn battle still, with more of it to tell?

Since first you reached the age of gorz and bow,Iblis had never thought to find you so.

You let the Div into your heart, and spurnThe counsel of this guide, which you should learn.

Your heart is obstinate in strife; I tearTo shreds the very garment that I wear.

How can I cast this terror from my heart,When I am breaking utterly apart?

Two warriors, two lions; who can guessWhose back the other’s weight to earth will press?”

The prince gave no reply; no word was said;Pain filled his heart, and pride possessed his head.

When Rostam reached his palace, he stood byAnd watched his comrades with a searching eye.

Zavareh came and found him pale with grief;The hero spoke in gloom, beyond relief:

“Bring me my Indian sword and battle gear,My jowshan and my helmet; bring them here.

Bring bow, bargostvan, tiger-skin to wear,My kamand, heavy gorz, jowshan to bear.”

Zavareh bade the treasurer obey,And bring the arms that lay concealed away.

When Rostam saw his gear, he shook his head,And drew a deep sigh from his breast, and said:

“O zereh, you have rested for a whileFrom battle’s noise and danger’s bitter trial.

Now stand firm in the task that waits for you;Be fortune’s shirt in all that we must do.

What field is this, where two bold lions fight,Both roaring as they meet in all their might?

Now what will Esfandiyar bring to bear?What move will he attempt? What will he dare?”

When Zal had heard these words, his heart grew sore;The ancient man grew troubled more and more.

He said, “Famed Pahlevan, what words are theseThat strip my troubled spirit of its ease?

Since first you mounted battle’s saddle, youHave kept one heart, sincere and firm and true.

Obeying Shahs, you always held your headOn high, your heart released from pain and dread.

I fear your days are drawing to their close,Your star is falling into deep repose.

They will uproot the house of Zal and throwIts wives and children to the dust below.

If young Esfandiyar should take your lifeUpon the field, amid the battle’s strife,

No water, soil, or height of Zabul’s groundWill last; where high land stood, a pit is found.

Yet if through you some harm should fall on him,Your own exalted fame will fade and dim.

Those telling this will shatter your renown,And bring your ancient glory crashing down.

Men say, ‘He slew a prince of Iran’s land,A valiant rider perished by his hand.’

So, stand before him as a loyal man,Or leave your home and hide while still you can.

Seek some obscure retreat unknown to fame,That none on earth may ever hear your name.

This wrong would darken all your soul with fear;Beware the youthful prince; do not draw near.

With wealth and toil redeem the words you said;Set no axe where Chin’s brocade is spread.

Prepare rich robes to give his men; bestowYour wealth upon him; buy release from woe.

As soon as he departs the Hirmund’s tide,Mount lofty Rakhsh and journey at his side.

Once safe, attend the prince along the way,Until you see the Shah in his array.

How can he wrong you when he sees your face?Would such a deed bring Iran’s monarch grace?”

The ancient hero Rostam answered Zal:“Do not think lightly of this strife at all.

Long have I lived and known both good and ill;Through years of manhood, I have faced them still.

I reached the Divs within Mazandaran,And fought the men of fierce Hamavaran.

I fought Kamus and Chin’s great Khan; the groundBeneath his steed shook, trembling all around.

If I should flee the prince, retain no moreYour Sistan halls and gardens as before.

When I put on my tiger-skin to fight,I drag the moon to dust from heaven’s height.

You spoke of pleas; I pleaded, as you said,And all the book of humble service read.

He scorns my words and holds my counsel light,And turns from wisdom and discerning sight.

But if he bends his head from Saturn’s height,And greets me warmly with a heart upright,

No gems or treasure would I grudge that guest;No gorz, no club, no sword, no armored vest.

Through many sittings I have said my part;I hold but wind for all my speaking art.

Tomorrow, if he is resolved to fight,Let not your heart be troubled for his plight.

I shall not take my sword in hand to slay;I shall not wound his body in the fray.

I shall rein round to meet him; he shall feelNo gorz-blow, nor my spearhead’s wounding steel.

I shall block his path, grasp him round the waist;My strength shall hold him, firmly clasped and braced.

From saddle I shall lift him in embrace,And welcome him with all a monarch’s grace.

I shall seat him high on our splendid throne,And open wide each treasury I own.

When he has stayed three days as guest with me,Upon the fourth, when dawn makes darkness flee,

When day casts off its lapis robe of night,The yellow jeweled cup comes into sight,

Then I shall gird myself and leave this placeWith him, to look upon Goshtasb’s face.

Then seat him on the ivory throne and crownHis head with that bright joy of high renown.

I shall gird up, his slave with all my heart,And from Esfandiyar I shall not part.

You know the deeds I did for crown and state,Before Kay Qobad’s throne in years of fate.

Yet now you bid me hide in some retreat,Or yield my hands in chains before defeat!”

Zal laughed to hear the words that Rostam said,Then paused in thought and slowly shook his head.

He answered, “Son, your words lack head and tail;Only the mad could credit such a tale.

Qobad sat gloomy, with no crown to wear,No throne, no ancient treasure in his care.

Do not equate him with Iran’s own king,Whose wealth is old, whose judgment guides each thing.

Esfandiyar’s name is graven as a signUpon the Chinese ruler’s signet fine.

You say, ‘I shall lift him from his saddle’s seat,And bear him in my arms to Zal’s retreat.’

No elder should speak thus; do not pursueThe path of thanklessness in what you do.

I told you what my counsel is; you knowMy judgment, chief; now choose the way you go.”

He bowed his head to earth in humble praise,And blessed the Maker of the world and days.

He prayed, “Victorious Judge, turn ill away;Avert from us the grief of this dark day.”

Until the sun rose from the mountain height,His tongue prayed tirelessly throughout the night.

When day arrived, brave Rostam’s frame was casedIn jowshan, tiger-skin above it placed.

He tied his kamand to the saddle tight,Then mounted Rakhsh, an elephant in might.

He summoned brave Zavareh to his side,And spoke at length of troops he must provide.

“Go marshal all the men and take your standUpon those sandy hills with steady hand.”

Zavareh went and mustered for the frayThe troops that toward the battlefield made way.

When matchless Rostam from his palace came,Spear in his hand, the troops blessed him by name.

“May horse and gorz and saddle never knowYour loss,” they cried, “wherever you may go.”

Zavareh followed, trusted in command,As Rostam rode toward Hirmund’s river strand.

His lips were full of boasts, his heart of thought,As to the riverbank his way he sought.

His brother and the troops stayed at their base;Alone, he neared Iran’s lines at wary pace.

He told Zavareh privately, “This manIs Div-like, ill in nature and in plan.

Even now I would restrain the prince from fight,And lead his soul toward understanding’s light.

I fear I must fight him; I do not knowWhat afterward the course of things will show.

Remain here; keep the army in your hand;I go to see what fortune now has planned.

If I shall find him furious in his mood,I will not call the chiefs to join the feud.

Alone I fight and spare my men the painOf wounds received upon the battle plain.

The man whose heart is just will, in the end,Win joy and victory, with fate his friend.”

He left the riverbank and sought the height,Amazed at how the world turned in his sight.

He called, “Esfandiyar, renowned and great,Your match has come; prepare for war; I wait.”

The prince heard Rostam calling from on high,An ancient lion’s roaring battle-cry.

He laughed: “I rose from sleep prepared to fight;Look, I am ready now to meet your might.”

He bade them bring his helm, his breastplate’s steel,His spear and ox-head gorz, for war’s ordeal.

He donned his jowshan, set upon his headHis Kayanian helm, as he had said.

He bade them saddle up his charger black,And bring it to him, harness on its back.

He saw the sable horse; his strength and prideOf manhood stirred him at the horse’s side.

He set his spear’s butt firmly on the ground,Then vaulted to the saddle with a bound.

As when a leopard lands upon the backOf some wild ass that cries at the attack.

The soldiers watched him, marveling at the sight,And blessed their famous champion’s strength and might.

He rode, and saw upon his steed aloneGreat Rostam, with no comrade of his own.

He called to Bishutan upon his steed,“To fight this man, no friend or mate I need.

Since he stands there alone, I too shall go,And mount that lofty height before the foe.”

Both rode to war as though the world had ceasedTo hold a place for revelry or feast.

Old man and youth drew near, two chiefs of might,Two proud and noble lions poised to fight.

Their chargers neighed; the field seemed split and rent,As through the battlefield their voices went.

Then Rostam shouted, “Man of happy star,Of joyful heart, whose fortunes prosper far,

Do not contend like this; let evil cease,And hear a wise man’s counsel here in peace.

If war and spilling blood are what you choose,If such a bitter struggle you would use,

Then let me bring Zabul’s brave horsemen here,In jowshans, Kabul khanjars for their gear.

Call Iran’s warriors also to the test,To show whose skill and valor prove the best.

Let both great armies meet, and battle rage,While you and I stand back, their strength to gauge.

Bloodshed will meet your wish upon the ground;You shall see men rush in and grapple round.”

“Vain words! At dawn, to fight, you left your hall,And from this height,” the prince said, “made your call.

Why set these traps and tricks? It would appearYou see decline and straitened fortune near.

Why should I bring war down on Zabul’s plain?Why should Iran and Kabul both be slain?

May this be foreign to our custom still;Our faith does not permit so great an ill.

Why should I send Iranians to fall,And crown myself as monarch over all?

I lead against whatever foe draws near,Though claws of leopards face me, I stand here.

If you need helpers, summon whom you choose;I need no helper’s strength for me to use.

God helps me in the fight, and fortune’s graceWill smile upon my labor in this place.

You seek a fight, and I desire it too;Without our troops, I shall contend with you.

Then we shall see if my steed turns away,And riderless returns to stall today,

Or Rostam’s charger, masterless, alone,Turns back toward the palace he has known.”

The champions agreed that none should aidEither of them, whatever blows were made.

They fought at length; their spearpoints would assailThe jowshans; rivets scattered in a trail.

Their spearheads broke beneath the strokes they plied;Then each must draw the sharp sword at his side.

They raised their sharpened swords and wheeled to fight,Both charging, now to left and now to right.

Their tempered swords broke under blows they dealt;They drew their gorzes, each from his own belt.

They rained down gorz-blows in the savage clash,Like stones that tumble from a height and crash.

Like raging lions, wrathful, both men pressedTheir blows upon the battered limbs and chest.

The heavy gorzes’ hafts broke stroke by stroke;Their hands were balked when those stout handles broke.

They gripped a leather belt, prepared to strain,Their chargers’ breasts uplifted on the plain.

One end was in Esfandiyar’s strong hand;The other Rostam held to make his stand.

Both pulled toward themselves with all their might,Two brazen-bodied champions in the fight.

Each strained against the other, yet no forceCould shift one lion seated on his horse.

The riders drew apart; their horses’ strainBore witness to the battle and its pain.

Their mouths held foam with blood and dust ingrained;Their jowshans, bargostvans, in shreds remained.

The heroes fought; the struggle held them fast,Zal’s son was long delayed as hours passed.

Zavareh brought his troops from farther ground,Their hearts seared, bent on vengeance, battle-bound.

He asked the Iranians, “Where is Rostam? WhySit silent on this day as hours go by?

You came to meet the nahang in the fight,And now are caught in Rostam’s grip of might.

You shall not bind his hands; this is no dayTo sit upon the field and shun the fray.”

Zavareh cursed; his speech was harsh to hear,Unseemly words that struck the listening ear.

A famous son of Esfandiyar heardThose taunts, and anger rose at every word.

His name was Nush Azar, renowned and bright,A joyful youth who felled horsemen in fight.

He faced the Sagzi in a raging mood,And loosed his tongue in words both harsh and rude.

He said, “A noble warrior takes his standAnd slays the wicked at the Shah’s command.

Esfandiyar has not commanded usTo fight with dogs and make a battle thus.

Who turns from his command or judgment’s light?Who dares to break the pledge he gave outright?

But if you choose to wage an unjust fight,And strike the first blow, scorning what is right,

Then you shall see how fighting men engageWith sword and spear and heavy gorzes’ rage.”

Zavareh cried, “Now strike, and do not spare;Set crowns of blood upon each chieftain’s hair.”

Zavareh rode before his troops; a cryOf battle rose into the air on high.

They slew Iranians, countless, in the fight;Nush Azar joined the battle at that sight.

He mounted on his noble dun, astride,An Indian sword held flashing at his side.

A warrior named Alva, proud of heart,Felled horsemen, glad to play a warrior’s part.

He bore Rostam’s spear; he would not strayFrom close behind him as he went his way.

When Nush Azar saw Alva far away,He drew his sword out, ready for the fray.

He struck his head; his blade came down, well placed,And cleft the famous rider to the waist.

Zavareh spurred his warhorse toward the slain,And cried to Nush Azar across the plain:

“You felled him; now stand firm, and face my might;I never counted Alva fit to fight.”

Zavareh drove his spear into his chest;His head fell to the earth, his life at rest.

When famed Nush Azar on the field lay dead,His army’s Fortune faltered, turned, and fled.

His brother, Mehr-e-Nush, in anguish cried;His heart seethed at the loss of him who died.

The swordsman’s heart grew sorrowful; he spurredHis massive steed, by bitter sorrow stirred.

He rode before the lines; in grief’s deep throes,The foam of anguish to his lips arose.

Then Faramarz came fiercely to the fight,An Indian sword in hand, with tusker’s might.

With him the noble Mehr-e-Nush engaged;On either side the troops cried as they raged.

Both noble youths were of a lordly strain,A prince and Pahlevan upon the plain.

Like raging lions both rushed in to close,And with their swords exchanged each other’s blows.

Though Mehr-e-Nush fought fiercely in the field,He lacked the strength to make the hero yield.

He raised his sword to strike the famed man dead,And cast into the dust that noble head.

But his own steed’s neck took the falling blade;Its severed head upon the earth was laid.

Then Faramarz slew him, now forced to standOn foot; his blood made rubies of the land.

When Bahman saw his brother lying slain,The earth beneath him red with rose-like stain,

He came to prince Esfandiyar in grief,Where battle raged around that mighty chief.

He said, “O fierce male lion, see the powerOf Sagzi troops who fight us in this hour.

Both Nush Azar and Mehr-e-Nush lie slain;The Sagzi brought them low upon the plain.

You fight, while we are grieving; dust is spreadUpon our youths and princes lying dead.

Eternal shame will rest upon our race;These fools have dragged our honor to disgrace.”

The chief’s heart filled with anger; in his brainRose rage, while tears flowed for the newly slain.

He said, “O wicked Rostam, can this beThe pact of chiefs, the pledge you made to me?

You said, ‘I will not bring my troops to fight.’You have no care for honor in men’s sight.

No shame before your God or me you know;Fear when He asks what your account will show.

Do you not know that men who break their wordWin no men’s praise when all the tale is heard?

Two Sagzi killed my sons; in folly stillThey persevere and will not turn from ill.”

When Rostam heard, his heart grew sore with grief;He trembled like a branch with every leaf.

He swore by sun, the Shah’s own life and head,By field and scimitar, and sternly said:

“I never bade them fight so; theirs the blame,And those who joined won none of my acclaim.

My brother’s hands I bind, if he has ledThe men to this foul deed where blood is shed.

And Faramarz, his hands bound, I shall bringBefore you, God-revering prince and king.

Slay them for those dear sons and let your mindBe free of this vain deed; leave it behind.”

Esfandiyar replied, “It is not rightTo shed snake’s blood for peacocks in my sight.

Such vengeance would be ugly in our eyes;The custom of proud kings this act denies.

You wicked man, take thought for your own fate;Your time draws close; prepare, and do not wait.

With arrows I shall mix both thighs of yoursWith Rakhsh, as milk with water blends and pours,

So servants, after this, will not opposeTheir masters, seeking vengeance as their foes.

If you survive, I bind your hands today,And take you to the Shah without delay.

But if my arrows kill you on this ground,Revenge for both my noble sons is found.”

Then Rostam said, “What profit can we claimFrom all this talk, except a loss of name?

Turn toward God; to Him your heart confide,For He alone to goodness is our guide.”

They took their bows and arrow shafts in hand,And darkness seemed to fall across the land.

Their arrowheads struck fire; the shafts they spedStitched armor to the flesh like needle-thread.

Esfandiyar grew troubled in the fight;His brow and face were furrowed at the sight.

When he reached for his arrows and his bow,No man escaped the shaft that he let go.

The hero drew his mighty bow; the lightOf the sun grew pale before his fearful might.

His arrowhead was adamant; beforeIts point made jowshans paper, nothing more.

When shafts flew from Esfandiyar’s strong bow,Both Rostam and great Rakhsh received the blow.

The prince rode round him; Rostam’s arrows flew,But none could pierce that body through and through.

Each shaft the prince released left Rostam sore;His own shafts failed; he could withstand no more.

Bewildered at such fighting, Rostam cried,“Esfandiyar has brass for flesh and hide!”

When Rakhsh grew weak, the arrows lodged in him,And horse and rider bled from every limb,

The rider, swift as wind, sprang from his steed,And turned toward the heights in bitter need.

Then wounded Rakhsh went homeward on his own,And left his master on the height alone.

Blood poured from Rostam’s body like a tide;As if Mount Bistoon shook, its strength denied.

Esfandiyar laughed loudly at the sight,And cried, “Famed Rostam, where has gone your might?

Why has the raging elephant grown weak?Why do these arrow-wounds such havoc wreak?

Where now are gorz and manhood, farr and name,Your warlike eminence and ancient fame?

Why have you fled away and scaled the heightBecause a lion’s voice has filled the fight?

Why has the elephant turned fox? Your forceHas failed you now; your hands have stayed their course.

You made the Divs weep, and the wild beasts feelAs though they roasted in your burning steel.”

Zavareh saw the glossy Rakhsh return,Wounded and riderless, and felt grief burn.

The world grew dark before Zavareh’s eyes;He hurried toward the field with grieving cries.

He saw great Rostam’s wounds, still open wide,Unbound, with blood that flowed on every side.

“Rise, mount my horse,” he said. “For you I wearRevenge’s jowshan; yours shall be my care.”

But Rostam answered, “Go to Zal and say:‘The glory of Sahm’s race has passed away.

Seek out a cure for wounds that grieve me so;What remedy is there for all this woe?

If I survive these arrows and this strife,Know, Zal, my mother gives me newborn life.’

Go now, and find a cure for Rakhsh, I pray;I shall come after, though I long delay.”

Zavareh left his brother in despair,And turned toward Rakhsh, whose wounds were hard to bear.

Esfandiyar remained below the height,And called to famed Rostam, still in his sight:

“Famed Rostam, on the height why do you wait?Who now will guide your steps and set them straight?

Throw down your bow; cast tiger-skin aside;Unfasten now the girdle at your side.

Repent, yield both your hands to bondage now;No further hurt from me shall touch your brow.

Wounded, you shall be brought before the throne,And have no guilt laid on you as your own.

Before you fight, set your affairs in hand;Appoint a guardian to protect this land.

Ask God to pardon all your sins; He mayForgive them when you turn to Him and pray.

Perhaps the righteous Judge will be your guideWhen you depart this world where none abide.”

Then Rostam said, “The hour is growing late;Our hands must cease from battle and from hate.

Return now to your troops; the night is near,Who seeks a battle when the dark is here?

I shall go home, and in my palace lie,To rest awhile and let sleep close my eye.

I shall bind up my wounds and summon allMy people, those I have, to hear my call:

Zavareh, Faramarz, and Zal by name,And all my other kin who have won fame.

And now I will perform what you require,For loyalty to you is my desire.”

Esfandiyar, the brazen-bodied, cried,“Old self-willed man, so swollen with your pride,

You are a mighty man, in combat tried,With spells and schemes and counsel at your side.

I marked your falseness through this whole affair,And long to see your overthrow laid bare.

Yet I will grant you quarter through the night;Go home, but do not scheme to shun the fight.

Fulfill the words you pledged to me before;Spin out no further speeches; speak no more.”

Then Rostam said, “I shall do as you say,And chant to drive my wounds’ distress away.”

Then Rostam turned away; the prince’s eyeWatched how the wounded hero would pass by.

Like some great ship, he crossed the river’s tide,And prayed that God would heal his wounded side.

He said, “O just and holy Judge on high,If from these wounds I fall beneath the sky,

Who of the mighty will avenge me, whoWill take my heart, my judgment, customs too?”

Esfandiyar kept watching as he went,And saw him reach the farther bank, near spent.

He cried, “This is no man! Before my eyes,A mighty elephant of power and size!”

He crossed the water, though his wounds were sore,In anguish from the shafts his body bore.

In wonder stood the prince; his voice was raisedTo God, the mighty Judge, whom thus he praised:

“You shaped him as You wished, by Your command,And graced both earth and time with one so grand.”

When he returned, from out the royal tentRose cries of grief and sorrowful lament.

Then Bishutan came forth, oppressed by grief,For both young princes dead beyond relief.

The prince’s tent lay on the dust; the greatHad torn their garments, mourning that sad fate.

He left his steed; within his lap he laidThe heads of those two chiefs, and mourned, dismayed.

He cried, “Alas, my two young warriors slain!Your souls no more in these weak forms remain!”

Then he told Bishutan, “Rise; weep no more;Let not such tears upon their bodies pour.

I see no gain in all these tears and grief;We must not cling to life, for life is brief.

Both young and old, we all must pass away;May wisdom guide us on our final day.”

In golden coffins, each on a teak bier,He sent them to the crowned Shah, far from here.

He sent his father word: “Your counsel’s treeHas borne its fruit; behold what comes to me.

You launched the ship; you sought for your commandGreat Rostam’s service, subject to your hand.

When Nush Azar and Mehr-e-Nush appearIn coffins, do not lend Jamasp your ear.

My bull is in its hide; none yet can sayWhat fate may bring to me upon my way.

You glory on your throne while I must burn;That throne and ease will end when fortunes turn.”

He sat upon his throne beneath grief’s shade,And weighed the words and warnings Rostam made.

Then he told Bishutan, “A lion drawsAway before a valiant warrior’s claws.

Today I looked on Rostam’s mighty frame,His strength and stature, worthy of his fame.

I praised the holy God, whom we revere,From whom come hope and dread and trembling fear.

His Maker shaped him so; all praise is dueTo Him who made the world and all we view.

His deeds were such: where Chin’s deep waters sweep,His thumb could draw the nahang from the deep.

His breath drew leopards from the open land;Such were the mighty workings of his hand.

Yet I so pierced his body with my bowThat pools of blood lay on the earth below.

He left the height on foot, as he had said,With jowshan, sword, and to the stream he sped.

He came out of the water, wounded sore,His body full of arrowheads he bore.

I think that, when his palace meets his eye,His soul will rise to Saturn in the sky.”

Now Rostam reached his palace; Zal perceivedThe wounds his son in battle had received.

Zavareh wept with Faramarz in grief;His wounds burned in their hearts beyond relief.

When Rudabeh had heard the household cries,She tore her face and hair with anguished sighs.

Zavareh came and loosed his belt; the restRemoved the Babr-e Bayan from his breast.

The learned of his country also came,And sat around the hero’s wounded frame.

Then Rakhsh was ordered brought; the healers, too,Were brought to see what remedies could do.

Wise Zal tore at his hair and bowed his head,And pressed his face to Rostam’s wounds and said:

“Still living, old and gray, I see my son;I never saw him thus, my cherished one!”

Then Rostam said, “What use are grief and cries?What has occurred was written in the skies.

The matter facing me is harder still,And deeper cares my troubled spirit fill.

However much I plead, my words impartNo softness to the prince’s stony heart.

His arrogance commands his word and deed;In every way he seeks distress to breed.

I roamed the world and learned its hidden lore,And learned what lay revealed, from shore to shore.

I seized the White Div’s waist and hurled him low,As lightly as a willow branch men throw.

Yet from Esfandiyar I turn awayBefore his strength and prowess in the fray.

My flying shafts would pierce an anvil’s face,And scorn the strongest shield in any place.

Yet when they struck his armor in the fight,They proved like thorns on stone despite their might.

If I reached out, a stone within my graspWas like a citron resting in my clasp.

I seized Esfandiyar’s belt; my strong handWas humbled, with the strength at its command.

If any nahang saw my blade displayed,It hid beneath the rocks in fear and shade.

Yet that same sword could neither cut nor shredHis jowshan, nor the silk upon his head.

Thank God that night spread darkness through the skies,And in that darkness dimmed the prince’s eyes.

I slipped that dragon’s grip but cannot seeIf from this plight I ever shall be free.

No other course remains for me to try:Tomorrow I shall mount my Rakhsh and fly.

I leave no trace to show him where I fled,Though severed heads through Zabul he may spread.

At last, he will grow tired of evil done,Though slow to tire of it, that wicked one.”

Then Zal replied, “My son, give heed and hear;Remember what I say, and lend your ear.

Each worldly task has doors through which to tread;Death has another door that lies ahead.

I know one remedy; let this be tried:I shall summon the Simorgh as our guide.

If she will guide us now, our lands shall stand;Else ruin comes from that foul prince’s hand.”

When all three fixed upon that bold design,Zal climbed a height beneath the starlight’s shine.

Three censers full of fire he bore that night;Three watchful, valiant men climbed to the height.

Upon the summit, spell-wise Zal now stayed,And drew the feather from its rich brocade.

He lit a censer’s fire amid the gloom,And burned a portion of the Simorgh’s plume.

A watch of that dark night had passed; on highA cloud as black as iron filled the sky.

The bird looked down from heaven toward the height,And saw the fire below her burning bright.

Zal sat before it, sunk in grief and woe;The troubled bird came down to earth below.

Zal came before her, aloeswood to bear,And offered praise and bowed his head in prayer.

He filled three censers with their fragrant store;Down both his cheeks his liver’s blood would pour.

The Simorgh said, “O king, what grief or fearHas made you burn my plume to call me here?”

Zal said, “May this affliction fall insteadUpon the ill-born foeman’s guilty head.

The body of lion-hearted Rostam liesWith wounds that fill my heart with anguished cries.

His wounds have brought him close to loss of life;No man has seen such ruin born of strife.

And Rakhsh, it seems, is near to dying too,So sharply have the arrows pierced him through.

Esfandiyar has come to fight us here;He seeks but war and makes his purpose clear.

He seeks no land or treasure, nor a crown;He wants the tree, its root and fruit, cut down.”

The Simorgh said, “O Pahlevan, take heart;Let grief and fear from your worn soul depart.

Now let me see both Rakhsh and Rostam here,That proud world-giving chief, whom men revere.”

Then Zal sent word to Rostam where he lay:“Bestir yourself and come without delay.

Give orders too that Rakhsh be brought along,And bring him straight to me; do not be long.”

When Rostam reached that steep and lofty place,The knowing bird looked on the hero’s face:

“O mighty elephant, whose hand could dealSuch grievous wounds as those you now reveal?

Why did you seek Esfandiyar in fight?Why set your lap with battle’s fire alight?”

Then Zal replied, “O queen of love and grace,Since you have shown to us your holy face,

Where shall I take my refuge if my sonShould find no cure? Of hope there will be none.

They will destroy Sistan and strip it bareFor lions’ dens and for the leopard’s lair.

Our race will be uprooted from the land;What remedy remains at our command?”

The bird surveyed his wounds with knowing eye,And saw where all the means to heal might lie.

Four arrowheads she drew; her beak appliedTo wounded flesh drew out the blood inside.

She rubbed her feather on each wound he bore;Great Rostam’s strength and farr she did restore.

She said, “Bind up your wounds and rest one week;Avoid all danger; safety you must seek.

With milk, wet one of my own feathers through;Then stroke the wounds the arrows dealt to you.”

She called for Rakhsh, then pressed her beak to aidHis right foreleg, where arrow-wounds were made.

Six arrowheads she drew; his neck was freed,And no wound marred the body of the steed.

Then Rakhsh neighed out, and Rostam laughed for joy;No grief remained their gladness to destroy.

The Simorgh said, “O elephant in might,Most famed of all the warriors who fight,

Why seek to fight Esfandiyar, whose frameIs brass, a prince whose wars have won him fame?”

He answered, “Had he not proposed my chains,My heart would not be troubled by these pains.

For death is easier than shame to bear,Should I hold back from fighting and not dare.”

She said, “To bow your head before his might,Down to the dust, brings no disgrace or slight.

He is a warrior-prince, both pure and bright;He bears God’s farr, the grace of sacred light.

If you will make a covenant with me,Repent this fight and let your anger flee,

Seek not to prove your strength exceeds his mightWhen you contend with him in open fight.

Tomorrow, plead with him, and let him takeYour flesh and soul, offered for his own sake.

Then if his time is moving toward its end,He will reject the pleas that you extend.

Then I shall find the means, and, this once done,Shall raise your head as high as heaven’s sun.”

When Rostam heard, his heart was filled with cheer;The thought of being bound brought no more fear.

He said, “I shall obey what you have said,Though swords rain from the sky upon my head.”

The Simorgh said, “In love I now revealThe hidden doom that heaven’s signs conceal.

Whoever sheds that hero’s sacred bloodWill meet dark fortune rising like a flood.

Throughout his life, he shall not find reliefFrom pain; his treasure, too, shall come to grief.

Ill fortune in this world will bring him pain;Beyond this life, more hardships shall remain.

If you agree with all that I have told,Against your enemy you shall be bold.

This very night a wonder I shall show,And stop the evil words your lips let flow.

Go mount on Rakhsh; a khanjar you must choose,Whose steel is bright with gleaming water’s hues.”

He fastened tight the belt around his waist,Then mounted Rakhsh, and toward the sea he raced.

He reached the sea; above him, all grew dimBeneath the Simorgh flying over him.

When Rostam came beside the water’s face,The noble bird descended to that place.

A tamarisk stood rooted, rising high;The royal bird perched there against the sky.

She showed a dry path; musky fragrance stirredUpon the wind that blew about the bird.

She called him close and gently stroked his head;And then the knowing Simorgh spoke and said:

“Choose out the straightest slender branch on high,Its tip raised up toward the open sky.

This tamarisk is Esfandiyar’s doom;Do not mistake it for mere wood or bloom.

Before the fire, make straight this shaft you hold;Choose one fine arrowhead, well made and old.

Set the feather and arrowhead in place;I have revealed the harm that he must face.”

When Rostam cut the branch, he left the shore,And rode toward his halls; the branch he bore.

The Simorgh still above his head remained,And guided him until his house was gained.

She said, “When prince Esfandiyar seeks fight,Plead kindly, speak the truth, do what is right.

Sweet words may turn him back, and call to mindThe days of old that he has left behind:

How long, in service to the great, you boreHard toil and pain throughout the years before.

If he rejects your pleas with scornful face,And counts you with the low-born and the base,

Then string your bow, and nock that arrow rare,The tamarisk that wine has helped prepare.

Aim both your hands, as gaz-parast men do,Straight at his eye, and keep that eye in view.

Then Destiny will guide the shaft in flightStraight to his eye, and there its point will bite.”

The Simorgh bade farewell to Zal, alliedAs weft to warp, bound closely side by side.

She rose with happy heart, her pinions spread;And Rostam watched her soaring overhead.

He kindled fire, the arrow to prepare,And steeped the wood in wine with patient care.

One sharpened arrowhead he fitted tight,Then feathered the straight shaft and set it right.

When dawn broke from the heights and night withdrew,Across the dark its early brightness grew.

He donned the arms of battle he would bear;He called upon the Maker in his prayer,

Then rode toward Esfandiyar’s camp to fight,And cried for vengeance with a warrior’s might:

“O battle-seeker, why still sleep so sound?For Rostam’s Rakhsh stands saddled on this ground.

Awake, and close with Rostam, spear to spear;Rise from sweet sleep; revenge has brought him near.”

When prince Esfandiyar had heard the cry,His heavy arms seemed worthless in his eye.

He said to Bishutan, “No lion’s mightCan stand against a sorcerer in fight.

I thought that Rostam could reach home no moreWith jowshan, helm, Babr-e Bayan he wore.

His Rakhsh bore shafts so thick across his chestThat none could see the charger’s wounded breast.

Now I have heard that Zal can reach the sunThrough magic, when some work has to be done.

In wrath he leaves all sorcerers behind;I failed to weigh this with a prudent mind.”

Bishutan answered, weeping in his woe:“May grief and anger fall upon your foe.

What has come over you, so pale today?You must have watched until sleep fled away.

What ails these two great heroes? Why should griefIncrease, with so much toil and no relief?

I know not whose good fortune falters so,To bring fresh vengeance and renew our woe.”

Esfandiyar put on his battle gear,And donned his jowshan, combat drawing near.

He saw him, roared, and called a curse of shame:“May all the world forget your very name!

Have you forgotten, Sagzi, how I wageMy wars, my bow, a hero’s warlike rage?

Zal’s sorcery has made your body sound;Else you would lie already underground.

You turned again to sorcery’s old lore,And hastened back to fight me as before.

Today I crush your neck, and you shall beNo living son for Zal to ever see.”

When Rostam saw him thus, he breathed a sigh,Cold from his liver, then made this reply:

“O prince Esfandiyar,” he said, “you stillSeek war, and yet have never had your fill.

Fear God, the pure; do not consign your witAnd heart to lie together in the pit.

I did not come for battle; here I frameMy plea, concerned for honor, name, and shame.

Your fight with me flouts what is just and wise;You draw a veil across both reason’s eyes.

By Zardosht’s Maker and the noble creed,By Nush Azar and farr, give earnest heed;

By sun and moon, by Zand-Avesta’s light,Turn from this evil and embrace the right.

Forget the bitter words exchanged before,Though they could split the skin and leave it sore.

Come then and see the dwelling where I stay;Your will shall rule my life, and I obey.

I shall unlock my ancient hoards for you,The wealth I gathered as the long years flew.

I shall load beasts; your treasurer shall goAhead with all the wealth that I bestow.

I also shall ride onward at your side,And do before the Shah as you decide.

If there he slays me, I shall be content;If he commands my bonds, I will consent.

Recall the ancient sage and comprehend:‘May no ill star become your lifelong friend.’

I shall try every means, still trusting fateMay make you weary of this war and hate.”

Esfandiyar replied, “I am not oneTo be deceived when battle has begun.

Why speak of house and hall? You do not ceaseTo wash anew the very face of peace.

If you still seek to live, then first be chained;By bonds alone may further life be gained.”

Then Rostam answered him again and said,“O prince, renounce the wrongful path you tread.

Do not disgrace my name or bring me low;From such a war, no good can ever grow.

You shall have royal gems in thousands, rare,With armlets, necklaces, and earrings fair.

Thousands of honey-lipped young pages, bright,Shall serve your throne and never leave your sight.

A thousand Khallokh maidens I shall bring,Fit for the crown and fortune of a king.

O peerless prince, I shall lay bare beforeYour eyes Sahm-e Nariman’s and Zal’s store.

I shall set all before you and shall leadMen from Zabulistan to serve your need.

They all shall follow every word you say,And break your enemies in open fray.

As your attendant, I shall take the wayBefore the vengeful Shah, and there obey.

But, prince, put vengeance from your heart away;Do not let the Div beside your reason stay.

You worship God; you rule and can commandMore than these bonds; my fate is in your hand.

These bonds would leave me lasting shame to bear;The evil of the act would be your share.”

Esfandiyar replied, “How long will allThese worthless words upon my hearing fall?

You bid me turn from God’s appointed way,And from the Shah whose orders I obey.

Whoever leaves the Shah’s commands behindHas worked deceit upon his master’s mind.

Choose bonds or battle; nothing else will do.Let no more idle words be heard from you.”

When Rostam knew his pleas could not prevail,And all entreaties to the prince would fail,

He strung his bow and set the shaft in line;Its head had been made ready with the wine.

He set the tamarisk upon the string,And prayed in secret to creation’s King:

“O pure Creator of the shining sun,Through you are wisdom, strength, and glory won.

You see my life, my soul, and all my might;You see my spirit, pure before your sight.

I strove to turn Esfandiyar away,To make him turn his head from this affray.

You know his quarrel with me is unjust;He boasts of war, and in his strength puts trust.

Creator of the moon and Tir, I pray:Do not make me for this transgression pay.”

Esfandiyar perceived his long delay,And saw that Rostam kept the fight at bay.

He said, “Ill-thinking Sagzi, has your fightNot sated you with shaft and bowstring’s might?

Now Goshtasb’s arrow you shall come to know,And Lohrasp’s point; a lion’s heart I show.”

Then Rostam quickly fitted to his bowThe shaft, as Simorgh taught, to strike his foe.

The arrow struck his eye and quenched the light;Before the prince, the whole world turned to night.

His cypress stature bent; his wisdom fled,And all his glory vanished as he bled.

The pious prince’s head bowed toward the land;His bow of Chakh fell slackly from his hand.

He clutched the black steed’s forelock and its mane;His blood turned ruby-red the dusty plain.

Said Rostam, “You have brought this evil seedTo fruit through stubborn pride in word and deed.

You said, ‘My form is brass; my might and worthCan dash the vault of heaven to the earth.’

One shaft has turned you from the battle’s course;You lie asleep upon your noble horse.

Your head will soon be leveled with the ground,Your mother’s heart will burn with grief profound.”

The famous prince fell headlong from his steed,And lay awhile in blood and bitter need.

Then consciousness returned; he sat upright,And listened, though his eyes were robbed of sight.

He seized the arrow’s end and drew it out,While blood from point to feather flowed about.

Then Bahman heard the news of that dismay:The royal farr had darkened in the fray.

It was to Bishutan that Bahman sped:“Our battle now to bitter pain is wed.

The mighty elephant is on the ground;Dark night has closed on all the world around.”

On foot they hurried from the troops in grief,And ran together to the wounded chief.

They saw the warrior’s chest all stained with gore;His hand the bloodied shaft that struck him bore.

Then Bishutan cast dust upon his head,And tore his robe, with cries for one near dead.

Bahman rolled in the dust; his face he laidIn warm blood, weeping as the farr would fade.

Then Bishutan said, “What great man can findThe world’s deep secret, what religious mind?

For Faith he drew the scimitar of wrath,With valor as he trod the vengeful path.

He swept idolatry from every land,And never raised a tyrant’s heavy hand.

Yet in his youth destruction struck him down;Dust took the head that used to wear the crown.

The wicked man who makes the whole world ache,And causes noble souls to grieve and break,

Lives long, while year on year he passes through,And never knows the harm that battles do.”

The two youths cradled him with grieving care,And wiped the blood that stained his face and hair.

His face was stained with blood, his heart was torn,As Bishutan lamented, left to mourn:

“Alas, O warrior Esfandiyar,Great prince, from kings descended like a star!

Who tore this mountain-warrior from his place?Who overthrew this lion in disgrace?

Who tore the noble elephant’s tusks free?Who filled with waves the Nile’s wide-spreading sea?

What evil eye has struck our royal line?Yet evil falls on those of ill design.

Where are your heart, your wisdom, faith, and star,Your strength, your ways, your fame that spread so far?

Where is your gracious voice in festive hall,Your battle arms that answered every call?

You purged the world of foes; no dread was near,No lion, nor an elephant, brought fear.

And now the profit of your toil is found:Time sees you lying here upon the ground.”

Esfandiyar, in wisdom, made reply:“O man well versed in all that passes by,

Do not destroy yourself before me so;The moon and heavens dealt this share of woe.

The living body has the dust for bed;Do not lament because my blood is shed.

Where now are Hushang, Jamshid, Fereydoon?They came as wind, a breath gone all too soon.

Our pure, exalted fathers left their placeTo us; none stays within this passing space.

My labors in this world were manifold,Both those made plain and those no eyes behold,

To carry out the will of God on high,With reason as the guide I journeyed by.

Through me this word shone bright across the land;From evil deeds was bound Ahriman’s hand.

Then Time stretched out its sharp claws; I could seeNo way to flee the fate that fell on me.

I hope my heart and soul may reap the grainThey sowed, in Paradise, beyond this pain.

The son of Zal has slain me not by might;See in my fist the wood that quenched my light.

This wood has brought my days to their last hour,Through Simorgh’s aid and Rostam’s cunning power.

Zal made the spells and bonds that served this plot;He knew the world’s deceits, each binding knot.”

When Rostam heard, he writhed and wept in pain,And grief shook him; his tears fell on the plain.

He said, “Through that discordant Div, my shareFrom Time has come as suffering to bear.

All that he said is true; his valor’s rootWas never crooked, nor was false its fruit.

Since first I bound my belt to face the fight,I sought proud warriors, testing all their might.

No rider like Esfandiyar I found,In jowshan, armor, all the world around.

In helplessness I turned to seek redress,And gave myself up wholly in distress.

I turned away, no strength to match his own,His bow, his chest, his thumb to me made known.

I fitted fate itself upon my bow,And loosed the shaft that laid the warrior low.

Had further days remained for him to see,How could the tamarisk have worked for me?

We all must leave this dark earth; none can stay,Nor caution gain one breath against decay.

The wood was but the pretext; mine the nameWithin this darkened tale of death and shame.”

Then Esfandiyar spoke to Rostam so:“My time has ended; now my life must go.

Hold back no longer; rise and come this way,For now my counsel changes with the day.

Hear now the counsel that I have to give,And know my worth while I have breath to live.

Strive to fulfill the charge I now confide,And let your greatness serve you as a guide.”

Then matchless Rostam heard the prince’s word,On foot drew near; his cries of grief were heard.

His eyes poured blood, his heart was filled with shame;He mourned in gentle tones the prince’s name.

When Zal received the tidings of the fight,He left his palace with the wind’s own flight.

Zavareh, Faramarz, and chiefs rode hard,Like men gone mad, by grief and sorrow marred.

A wail rose upward from the battle’s ground,And sun and moon seemed darkened by the sound.

Then Zal said, “Son, for you I grieve the more;My aching heart is wounded to its core.

I heard a sage of Chin proclaim this fate,And Iran’s star-readers the same relate:

‘Whoever sheds the blood of that great chiefWill find his days cut short in bitter grief.

In this world, pain and hardship he shall know;Beyond it, ill fortune shall be his woe.’”

Esfandiyar then said, “O Rostam, hear:Your hand has brought no evil to me here.

Such was the time; what happened now is past.Hear all my words and hold their meaning fast.

You were the pretext; father was my fate,Not Rostam, Simorgh, shaft, or bow of hate.

He told me, ‘Go, burn Sistan to the ground;Let Nimruz nevermore on earth be found.’

He strove to keep the troops and crown and store,While I was left to suffer more and more.

Now Bahman, this renowned young son of mine,My watchful counselor of wise design,

Receive from me as though you were his sire;Remember all the things that I require.

Keep him in Zabul, glad in heart and mind;Recall the deeds of men of evil kind.

Teach him the ordering of war’s array,The feast’s due seating, and the hunter’s way.

Teach wine and music, polo, work, and mirth,And greatness, and enjoyment of this earth.

Jamasp—may all his name be lost to view,And may his wishes never once come true;

Foretold that Bahman would preserve my name,A king more high and glorious in his fame.”

When matchless Rostam heard, he stood upright,His right hand on his breast, his pledge forthright.

He said, “Though you depart, my word shall stand;I shall fulfill each part of your command.

Upon the ivory throne he shall be crowned,A lovely circlet on his forehead bound.”

The prince then heard the pledge that Rostam told,And said, “Take up the new; this has grown old.

God is my witness; let His witness stand,My guide within the Faith, by His command:

For all your kindness and your deeds of worth,The kings you nurtured here upon the earth,

Your noble name has turned to ill repute;Because of me, the world will not be mute.

My soul has grief allotted as its share;Such was the Maker’s will that I must bear.”

Then to Bishutan spoke the dying chief:“A shroud is all I seek beyond this grief.

When I depart this world and life is done,Arrange the troops; return with every one.

When you have reached Iran, say to my sire:‘Seek no excuse; you have your heart’s desire.

The age has turned to serve your will and fame;Now every seal is subject to your name.

I hoped for better things from you, but seeWhat your dark soul deemed fitting now for me.

I set the world right with the sword of law;None dared speak ill of you but stood in awe.

When Iran’s Faith was firmly set in place,Then kingship was my claim, with royal grace.

Before the chiefs your counsel sounded fair,Then secretly dispatched me to death’s snare.

Now you have gained the longing of your heart;Sit at your ease and play the monarch’s part.

Since you are safe, go drive death from your halls,And feast in peace within your palace walls.

The throne and crown are yours to keep and wear;The toil, the coffin, and the shroud, my share.

The old dehqan, who knew the world, spoke true:“Even the arrow’s point must perish too.”

Trust not your wealth, your crown, your armed array;My soul awaits your coming on the way.

When you arrive, we both shall have our sayBefore the Judge and hear His words that day.’

Then leave him; tell my mother, ‘Death drew near,And came this time to seek a battle here.

Jowshan is wind before death’s arrow-flight;Its shafts would pierce a mount of steel outright.

You soon will follow when my days are done;Do not torment your soul or blame your son.

Do not unveil your face before the crowd,Nor look upon my face within the shroud.

That sight will only make your sorrow grow,And wise men will not praise such public woe.’

Go to my sisters and my wife, and tellThose noble women where my secrets dwell:

To those wise women bear the words I say:‘Farewell forever, now I pass away.

My father’s crown has brought this ill to me;My life unlocked his wealth; it was the key.

I send it now to him, that he may knowThe shame his darkened soul deserves to show.’”

He spoke, then drew a sharp and sudden breath:“From Goshtasb came this wrong that brings my death.”

His pure soul left the wounded body bare,Cast on the darkened dust, beyond all care.

Then Rostam tore his breast and robe apart,With dust upon his head and pain at heart.

He cried, “Alas, O warrior, royal son,Whose father ruled, whose grandfather fought and won!

I had a noble name through all the earth;Goshtasb has stained my ending and my worth.”

Long time he wept, then spoke above the slain:“O monarch peerless on the mortal plain,

May Paradise receive your soul in light;May your foe reap the harvest of his spite.”

Zavareh said, “You should not undertakeThe charge he gave, nor take it for his sake.

Have you not heard the old dehqan relateThe ancient tale that warns us of this fate?

‘If you should raise a lion’s cub, behold:Its teeth grow sharp; its heart grows fierce and bold.

It grows, then seeks its prey; its first attackFalls on the one who raised it, turning back.’

Both sides are stirred to anger; grief is drawnFirst to the realm and people of Iran.

Since such a prince as Esfandiyar is dead,You too will see ill days around your head.

From Bahman, harm to Zabul shall arise;The elders of Kabul shall writhe with cries.

When he is crowned, he will recall the fight,And seek revenge for Esfandiyar’s plight.”

Then Rostam said, “Against the turning sky,Both good and evil thinkers vainly try.

I chose what reason’s eye would look uponWith praise, that my good name might still live on.

If he does ill, Time’s pain shall be his share;Do not stir trouble’s eye to wrath; beware.”

An iron coffin Rostam made; he laidA cloth of silk from Chin, a rich brocade.

He coated one iron face with pitch, then spreadMusk and abir upon that pitchy bed.

They spread a shroud of silk and woven gold,And nobles wailed above the prince grown cold.

In satin silk they swathed his body bare;They crowned his head with turquoise bright and rare.

They sealed the iron coffin; never moreThat royal tree would yield the fruit it bore.

Then Rostam chose out forty camels tall,In Chinese brocade housings, one and all.

Two camels bore the coffin of the slain;Troops flanked it, led, and followed in the train.

With faces torn and hair plucked out, they criedHis name; their souls still sought him at their side.

Tabiras overturned, the banners torn;In blue and purple, all were dressed to mourn.

Before the troops, Bishutan led the steed,Its forelock, tail both shorn; a mournful deed.

The saddle on its back was turned around;The gorz hung from the saddle, firmly bound.

His famous helm and battle-coat he wore,His robes and warrior’s coif, the saddle bore.

The troops moved on; young Bahman stayed to weepIn Zabul, shedding heart’s blood, anguish deep.

The matchless Rostam took him to his hall,And cherished him as life through sorrow’s pall.

When news reached Goshtasb of that bitter blow,The famous monarch bowed his head in woe.

He tore the robes that covered breast and frame;His head and crown into the dust both came.

A wail rose from the palace, heard afar;The world cried out the name Esfandiyar.

Throughout the realm, wherever tidings spread,Each noble took the crown from off his head.

Goshtasb cried, “O champion pure and true,No age shall see another chief like you.

Not since Manuchehr’s old and royal dayHad such a prince appeared in war’s array.

You stained your blade; you kept the Faith unstained,And each great lord’s appointed place maintained.”

The nobles of Iran, inflamed with ire,Cast off respect for him, the prince’s sire.

They cried, “Unlucky king, you prize your throneAbove a prince whose peer was never known.

You sent great Esfandiyar to be slain,That you might keep the crown and royal reign.

Shame on your head beneath the crown you wear;May fortune hasten off and leave you bare.”

The nobles left the palace, all the crowd;Dust filled his court and halls as with a shroud.

His mother, sisters, heard the news and cameWith daughters from the palace, grief aflame.

Bareheaded, barefoot, all their robes were torn;Their feet were thick with dust as they would mourn.

When Bishutan came weeping on his way,The black steed followed with the bier’s array.

The women clung to him with tears of blood,And cried as grief rose round them like a flood:

“Unfasten now this iron coffin’s lid,And show the wounded prince the coffin hid.”

He stood among the women, crying loud,And tore flesh from both arms before the crowd.

He asked the smiths for sharp files straightaway:“For me this is the Resurrection Day.”

He opened up the covering of the chest;Then started fresh to mourn, with grief oppressed.

His mother and his sisters saw his face,His black beard filled with musk in death’s embrace.

The golden-haired ones swooned beneath their grief;Their darkened souls could find no more relief.

When sense returned within each stricken breast,They came to Soroush, fortunate and blessed.

They left the prince’s bier and went to standBeside the black steed, wailing in a band.

They stroked its mane and breast with loving care;And Katayun wept blood upon its hair.

That charger bore the prince when fortune fled;Upon its back in battle he lay dead.

“O shameless steed!” the mother cried in pain,“On you the Kayanian king was slain.

Whom will you bear to battle from this hour,To nahang’s claws, beneath that creature’s power?”

They clasped its mane and clung in their despair,And cast the dust upon its head and hair.

The army’s outcry reached the clouds on high;Then Bishutan approached the Shah nearby.

He gave no homage, would not bow his head,But came up to the royal throne instead.

“O chief of chiefs, your fortune turns away;The sign of its reversal comes today.

You have done evil to yourself this day,And made Iran cry out in deep dismay.

Your farr and wisdom both have left your side;God’s punishment shall humble all your pride.

Your famed support is broken; from this hourYour fist holds only wind, bereft of power.

To save your throne, you sent your son to die;May crown and fortune both your cause deny.

The world is full of foes and evil men;Your crown will not endure the ages then.

Reproach will be your portion in this sphere,And Judgment Day will bring your reckoning near.”

He turned to Jamasp, crying in disdain:“Ill-born, ill-starred, your deeds are foul with stain.

You speak no word except deceit and lies;By knavery you rose before men’s eyes.

You sow discord among the Kayanian line,And set them on each other by design.

You teach them nothing but the road to ill,To leave the good and follow evil will.

You sowed one seed; in secret and in sight,And you shall reap its fruit and feel its bite.

A noble prince through your advice was slain;The days of all the great have turned to pain.

You taught the Shah the evil path to choose,Old fool, whose mind has no more sense to lose.

You said, ‘The hero-prince’s life is crossed,And in famed Rostam’s grasp his days are lost.’”

Then Bishutan resumed; he now conveyedThe counsels, every one, the prince had made.

He told of Bahman’s charge to Rostam’s care,And made the hidden matter plain and bare.

When Shah Goshtasb had heard the final word,Remorse within his guilty heart was stirred.

When all the nobles left, the sisters came,Homahyi and Bih Afrid, grief aflame.

Before their father, they tore cheek and hair,In anguish for their brother, deep despair.

They cried, “O famous monarch, is it rightThat Esfandiyar’s ruin seems so slight?

He first avenged Zarir and broke the foe,And saved the Gur-e-Khar from lion’s blow.

He took revenge upon the Turkish band,And made your kingship firm throughout the land.

At slander’s word you bound him, fettered fast,With heavy bars and kamand round him cast.

While he lay bound, Lohrasp was slain that day,The army’s fortune turned and fell away.

When from Khallokh Arjasp came to Balkh’s gate,Our lives were crushed beneath distress and fate.

We, who had kept our faces veiled before,Were dragged into the street from the palace door.

When Nush Azar Zardoshti was struck down,Arjasp then seized the kingdom and its crown.

You saw your son raise smoke and dust that day,And drive the breath of all your foes away.

He brought us from the Ruyin Dezh to you,And guarded realm and crown, both firm and true.

You sent him from this place to Zabul’s land,With many counsels given as command,

So that for crown and throne he might be slain,And all the world might writhe and weep in pain.

Not Simorgh, Zal, or Rostam struck him dead;You killed him; cease these tears of grief you shed.

Shame on your old white beard, and on your crown!For love of rule you brought your own son down.

Before you, worthy kings had ruled the land;None gave their sons or kin to death’s dark hand.”

The Shah told Bishutan, “Arise and go;Pour water on the children’s fiery woe.”

Then Bishutan came forth and led the trainOf women from the royal court in pain.

He told his mother, “Why, so stricken, pourYour grief out, beating fiercely at the door?

He sleeps in joy, his soul serene and bright,Weary of realm and ruler, freed from night.

Why keep your heart in anguish, so distressed?In Paradise he dwells, at peace and blessed.”

His mother took the pious words as guide,And with God’s justice rested satisfied.

For one full year, through Iran’s streets, the cryOf mourning rose, a wail that would not die.

For many years they mourned the tamarisk shaft,And all the bonds of Zal’s enchanted craft.

Bahman remained where Zabul’s gardens grew,With wine and hunting to delight him too.

Rostam taught riding, wine, and courtly graceTo that young prince within his dwelling-place.