Book E2Chess, Wisdom, and the Kalila and Dimna

Thus said the Mobad: On a royal day,The Shah adorned his throne with rich array.

His throne of polished ivory shone bright;Rum’s rich brocade lay gleaming in the light;

A golden, gem-decked crown hung overhead,Whose pearls and rubies fiery luster shed.

He moved the crown above that kingly seat,Until all splendor seemed in him complete.

The palace seemed all throne, the throne all king;The court, an army, formed a guarded ring.

The marzbans and Mobadan filled the hall,From Balkh and Bami, summoned one and all.

Then watchful men brought tidings to the throne,And made the coming of Hind’s envoy known:

“The envoy of the king of Hind has come,With costly gifts; a rich and princely sum.

He brings gold parasols of royal height,Great elephants and Sindhi horsemen bright.

A thousand camel-loads of gifts he brings;He seeks the presence of the king of kings.”

The watchful Shah, on hearing this report,Sent troops to welcome him before the court.

The envoy of that famed and powerful lordCame to the Shah, with homage in accord.

He bowed, as noble custom had decreed,And praised the Maker first in word and deed.

He gave the Shah rich gems from many lands,With elephants and earrings from his hands.

Those Indian parasols were bright with gold,With many jewels in their fabric rolled.

He opened bales within the royal place,And spread their contents out before his face.

Gold, silver, musk, and ambergris were shown,With fresh, sweet aloe-wood before the throne.

Bright rubies gleamed, and diamonds caught the light,And patterned blades from Hind shone keen and bright.

The Raja had amassed from every handThe goods of far Ghanooj and of Mai’s land.

Before the throne they laid the whole display;The sleepless prince surveyed the bright array.

Then to his treasury he sent the hoard,All that the Raja’s wealth had richly stored.

The envoy next brought forth the Raja’s scroll,On silk inscribed, a message rich and whole.

He brought a gift on which great wealth was spent:A chessboard fashioned as a challenge sent.

The man of Hind conveyed the Raja’s word:“May you endure while heaven’s wheels are stirred.

Command your learned men, with toil and care,To set this chessboard and its laws lay bare.

Let them apply their wits and closely scanHow this fine game is played, and learn its plan.

Let them discover how each piece is named,Its square and move, and how its force is framed.

Let them learn footman, elephant, and horse,The Rukh, the king, and the counselor’s course.

Let them discern each piece’s ordered way,And how each moves when battle joins the fray.

If they discover all this subtle game,And prove their wisdom worthy of its fame,

Then, as the Shah commands, I will conveyFull tribute to his court without delay.

But if the Iranian nobles cannot findThe secret rules this challenge keeps confined,

Then, since their knowledge has not matched our claim,Let them demand no tribute in your name.

Instead, let Iran’s tribute to us flow,For knowledge is the best thing man can know.”

Anooshirvan heard the message through,And weighed the challenge placed before his view.

They set the board and pieces near the king;He studied every emblem, rank, and thing.

Half of the set was ivory, clear and bright,The other teak, dark-hued against the light.

The Shah, whose fortune never slept, inquiredAbout the board and pieces he admired.

The envoy said, “O king, this whole displayIs war’s own emblem shaped in artful play.

When you have solved it, you will understandThe tactics, plan, and order of command.

The field of battle and its ranks appearWithin this board when wisdom’s eye is clear.”

The Shah replied, “One week of time I claim;Upon the eighth day we shall play the game.”

They lodged the envoy in a pleasant place,With honor fitting rank and royal grace.

The chiefs and Mobadan, grave men and shrewd,Came to the Shah to share his anxious mood.

Before them lay the chessboard, strange and bright;They studied it by day and into night.

They searched its form and tested every move,Yet found no scheme their reasoning could prove.

One spoke and questioned; one would ponder long,Yet none could say where all the men belong.

At last they left in gloom and inward shame,Unable to unlock that hidden game.

Then Bozorgmehr came to the troubled king,And saw his vexed heart under sorrow’s sting.

He saw, before he undertook the art,The task’s beginning and its hidden heart.

He said, “Great king, whose wisdom frames the law,Vigilant Shah who keeps the world in awe,

I shall discover all this clever game,With wisdom for my guide and fortune’s flame.”

The Shah replied, “This charge shall now be yours;May wisdom open all its hidden doors.

Else now the Raja of Ghanooj will say,‘The Shah had not one counselor that day.’

That would become a mighty public stainOn Mobadan, my court, and royal reign.”

Then Bozorgmehr took board and men in hand,And bent his mind their secret to command.

He tested left and right, and sought to traceEach movement and each piece’s proper place.

He found the game within one day and night,Then hastened to the Shah with inward light.

He said, “O Shah whose fortune wins the field,This board and pieces now their secrets yield.

I studied them and understand them all,Your fortune came in answer to my call.

Now call the Raja’s envoy; let him seeThe game unfolded as it ought to be.

The king of kings should see it first and say,‘A battlefield is shown in this array.’”

The king rejoiced and praised him as one blessed,By fortune favored more than all the rest.

He bade Mobadan, nobles, sages wiseAttend as chess unfolded to their eyes.

He called the Raja’s envoy to the hall,And seated him before the king and all.

Then eloquent Bozorgmehr spoke aloud:“Priest of the Raja, honored by this crowd,

What words did your sun-faced monarch sayWhen he entrusted these to you that day?

What charge did he entrust to you to bear?May wisdom be your friend in every care.”

The envoy said, “The Raja charged me soBefore I left his court, prepared to go:

‘Carry these pieces, ivory and teak,To him whose crown and throne of kingship speak.

Say: Gather counselors and Mobadan near,And set these pieces where they all appear.

If they discover how this game is played,And master every law its craft has laid,

We shall send gold and slaves and tribute then,As much as can be gathered from our men.

A king’s true worth springs more from what he knowsThan treasure, armies, or the wealth he shows.

But if the Shah and sages fail the test,And Hind’s assembled wisdom proves the best,

Let him demand no tribute from our hand,Nor seek our treasure from the Indian land.

Then let his court repent its fruitless toil,And send us greater wealth from Iran’s soil.’”

Then Bozorgmehr set board and men in line,Before the throne where sleepless fortunes shine.

He said to chiefs and Mobadan, “Be wise;Attend his words and judge where counsel lies.”

The sage transformed the board to warlike ground,The king at center, with his troops around.

He drew the forces up on left and right,With eager footmen foremost in the fight.

Beside the king, the counselor had place,To guide his thought when battle changed its face.

On either flank the elephants were set,As though for war the opposing armies met.

Beside them stood the chargers for the fray,With two wise riders placed in that array.

The warrior Rukhs stood mounted on each wing,And fought on right and left to guard the king.

He set the board, then challenged Hind’s own peer,And played three games before the court austere;

Three times they strove, three times the sage prevailed,While all the Indian envoy’s tactics failed.

The envoy out of Hind was vexed and stirred,Amazed by all he witnessed and had heard.

He marveled at that man of sleepless mind,That wizard-sage whose equal none could find.

“He never saw this chessboard or its play,Nor heard our Indian masters teach the way.

I never taught him how these pieces go;How did he learn the rules I did not show?

No other man could hold the post he bears,Or match the depth of judgment that he shares.”

Anooshirvan gave Bozorgmehr high praise,As though good Fortune crowned his sleepless days.

A robe of honor for the sage was made;And royal gems within a cup were laid.

A purse of dinars and a saddled steedHe gave, with praise for such a skillful deed.

The sage returned from court to his own place,And set a board and compass in that space.

He chose a darkened room to sharpen thought,And weighed the Indian subtlety he sought.

He sought a game to make the wise declareIts intricate design a wonder rare.

In meditation, closed from outward sight,He brought the hidden laws of nard to light.

He fashioned thirty counters for the fight,Half dark as teak, half ivory clear and white;

Two cubic dice of bone he made beside,By which the roll of fortune should decide.

Four quarters on the wooden board he planned,As the four seasons rule throughout the land;

Twelve points on either side were scored and set,Like the twelve months where day and night are met.

The board was set as a four-quartered ground;The dice commanded where each troop was bound.

Neither could take the other in the game;The movements granted each were just the same.

Their troops beneath their rule on either sideStood keen for battle, full of warlike pride.

If two friends caught one isolated foe,The pair could strike and lay that lone man low.

The player steers the counter with his skill,Yet waits upon the dice to work their will;

For chess is wisdom, labor, and foresight,While nard joins human skill with Heaven’s might:

Man guides the march, but Fate’s revolving wheelDecrees the fortune that the dice reveal.

So long as neither side was overthrown,The armies held the field before each throne.

Thus Bozorgmehr invented nard and wentTo tell the Shah the wisdom that it meant.

He showed each detail to the king whose heartWas filled with wonder at the sage’s art.

The Shah reviewed the movements of the game,Responding now with praise, and now with blame:

“O ardent soul, may you forever stayAs young in fortune as a springtime day.”

He bade the keeper of the camels bringTwo thousand beasts before the court and king.

He loaded them with tribute, tax, and storeFrom Rum and Chin and many a distant shore,

From Heytal, from Makran, from Iran’s land,And from the treasury under his command.

When camel-loads were fixed in full array,The caravan stood ready for the way.

That care then lifted from the monarch’s heart;He called Hind’s envoy near before the start.

He spoke of knowledge, wisdom, and the throne,Then wrote the Raja counsels of his own.

His letter brimmed with counsel, sense, and grace,With pleasant speech in every balanced place.

He first gave praises to Yazdan of light,His refuge from the Div’s consuming might.

Then said, “High Raja, famed through Hind’s wide land,From Sind to where Ghanooj’s waters stand,

Your envoy came before us, wise and great,With elephants and parasols of state,

With escort, tribute, and the game of chess;I heard the Raja’s challenge, his address.

The task is done; we asked for time to seeHow chess was played and what its rules might be.

A prudent Mobad, holy in his deed,Sought how the game was played and found its seed.

Now that wise Mobad comes before your gate,At high Ghanooj, with gifts of royal state.

Two thousand heavy camel-loads he brings,As worthy gifts from him, the king of kings.

For chess we have exchanged the game of nard;Let Hind’s wise men now test this challenge hard.

If Hind’s wise Brahmans can discern the play,And bring its hidden workings into day,

The Raja may consign to his own storeThe wealth we send, and keep it evermore.

But if the Raja and his counselors tryTo solve this nard and fail beneath the sky,

Then by our covenant he must commandAs many camels loaded from his land

As we have sent, and send them back with ours,With every load and gift within his powers.

Such is our pact, our bargain, and our word;Let wisdom judge the answer it has heard.”

When sunlight stood radiant in the sky,Bozorgmehr left the Shah with purpose high.

With baggage, letter, and the game of nard,He rode with purpose, watchful and on guard.

From Iran he came before the Raja’s seat,The Brahman guiding him with willing feet.

He stood before the Raja’s lofty throne,And saw his crown and fortune brightly shown.

In Pahlavi he praised the Raja’s reign,Then gave the scroll, its message to make plain.

He spoke the verbal message of the king,With all the weight that royal words should bring.

The Raja’s face grew bright with joy that day,As gracious pleasure on his features lay.

The message told of chess and all its pains,The tribute sent, the stakes, the hoped-for gains.

It told how chess had fared, its rules and play,The pieces and the king’s appointed way.

It told how king and counselor should move,And every battle-plan the pieces prove.

It told as well the triumph of the sage,Who made nard as a rival on the stage.

It ended, “Let the Raja read and act,And swerve not from the right nor break the pact.”

The Raja’s face grew pallid at the word,When chess and nard together had been heard.

A high official came with welcome kind,And fitting lodgings graciously assigned.

A cheerful residence was soon prepared,And wine and harp and minstrelsy were shared.

The Raja asked for seven days of grace;The lights of learning gathered in one place.

He summoned all the elders of his court,And laid before them nard, the Persian sport.

For one whole week the shrewdest nobles pored,Heads bent together, on the Persian board.

They sought through rivalry, through fame and pride,To learn the rules its hidden moves implied.

Upon the eighth day, one sage spoke in shame:“No mind among us understands this game.

The player needs a sage’s discerning soulTo read these pieces and discern the whole.”

The Raja’s heart grew troubled at their word,And sorrow crossed his brow at what he heard.

Upon the ninth day Bozorgmehr drew near,His face intent, his purpose firm and clear.

He said, “The Shah gave me no leave to stay,Nor should I burden him with long delay.”

The learned nobles then withdrew aside,And owned their ignorance without their pride.

When Bozorgmehr had heard, he took his place,While all the sages watched with solemn face.

He set the board of nard before their eyes,And showed the movements hidden from the wise.

He showed the leader and his warlike train,The royal power and order of campaign.

He showed how pieces moved, how battles grew,And brought the hidden rules to open view.

The Raja and his counselors were amazed,The whole assembly wondering as they gazed.

At Bozorgmehr the chiefs all cried acclaim,And hailed him holy sage of learned fame.

The Raja questioned him about his lore,And every answer satisfied him more.

Then from the sages and the scholars cameA rising cry that magnified his name:

“Behold an eloquent and learned man,Beyond mere games, beyond the common span.

He is not only skilled at chess and nard,But wisdom’s keeper and her chosen guard.”

The Raja had two thousand camels brought,And loaded tribute there as honor taught:

With camphor, ambergris, and aloe rare,With gold, rich garments, silver, jewels fair.

One year’s full tribute also he supplied,And sent it from his court in royal pride.

From his own treasure came a crown and robe,Renowned throughout the kingdoms of the globe.

He gave them both to Bozorgmehr with praise,And honored all his suite with lavish ways.

So from Ghanooj the honored sage withdrew,His head held high beneath the heavens blue.

He bore his first two thousand loads, restored,With gifts and tribute added to the hoard.

No one had seen so vast a caravan,Nor wealth so great since counting first began.

A letter from the Raja praised the king,In Hind’s own script, which he was glad to bring.

On silk it read: “The Raja and his peersBear witness freely, with no threats or fears,

That none has ever seen a Shah so great,Nor heard his equal named in any state.

No priest has told us of a king so wise,Nor minister whose peer has met our eyes.

His treasury of knowledge is the sky;Before such wisdom, earthly stores run dry.

The tribute for the year was sent before,And more shall come if you demand still more.

The stakes concerning both the games are sent,According to the bargain and intent.”

When news arrived that Bozorgmehr drew near,His mission crowned with triumph and good cheer,

Glad at the news, the Shah gave his commandThat chiefs go forth with warriors of the land.

They rode with joy the honored sage to meet,And brought him in with splendor through the street.

His entry through the city seemed the sameAs one who came from conquest, crowned with fame.

When that wise counselor approached the Shah,He praised him long with reverence and awe.

The Shah embraced him, asking of the road,The Raja, and what hardships fate bestowed.

Then Bozorgmehr recounted all his way,The turns of fortune, Heaven’s help each day.

He brought the Raja’s letter to the throne,And laid it where its message could be known.

The Shah commanded Yazdegard the scribeTo come and read before the learned tribe.

When he had read the Raja’s letter through,The gathered court stood wondering at the view:

They marveled at the counsel of the sage,And at the Shah, the glory of the age.

The Shah then said, “Give praise to God above,Who gave me such a sage to serve with love.

The great serve gladly underneath my crown,And love for me has bound their spirits down.”

Give thanks to Him, Yazdan of moon and sun,Through whom both mastery and victory are won.

The tale that follows now is stranger stillThan Bozorgmehr’s renowned and wondrous skill.

Of Talkhand and of chess I now shall tell,And how that ancient wonder first befell.

Thus Shahvi spoke, the ancient sage of old,Attend now well to what his tale has told.

There lived a king in Hind in former days,Mighty in arms and crowned with wealth and praise.

Jamhur his name, renowned in every land,Whose valor passed famed Foor’s heroic hand.

So ardent was this king, so watchful-wise,That all men honored him beneath the skies.

From fair Kashmir as far as Chin’s wide bound,All chieftains bowed where his command was found.

The world lay in his grasp through power and grace,And Sandali became his dwelling-place.

There stood his throne, his treasures, and his court,His signet-ring, his crown, his royal port.

Jamhur was reverent, learned, rich in lore,Preeminent in wisdom’s guarded store.

His lieges, courtier, townsman, servant, all,Blessed his rule in market, street, and hall.

He had a worthy wife, a prudent queen,Learned, accomplished, gentle, pure and keen.

One night she bore a son like him in face;The king beheld the child with royal grace.

He named the infant Gav, his royal boy;But brief was Jamhur’s time to share that joy.

Jamhur grew weak as sickness worked its will,Then joined the dead when life at last grew still.

He left to Gav a world where justice shone,Though infant Gav could not yet rule alone.

For crown and girdle he was still too small,And dust was heaped upon the chieftains all.

Their hearts were sorrowful because he died;The world remembered bounty, feast, and pride.

His justice, lavish gifts, and royal nameRemained among them like a living flame.

The chiefs and townsfolk gathered, filled with fear,And took their counsel when distress drew near:

“This little infant knows not court or state,Nor justice, throne, command, or royal fate.

The realm will suffer if no grown king reigns;A child cannot hold rule through such domains.”

The monarch had a brother, wise and strong,Fit for the throne and royal rule lifelong.

His name was Mai; of Danbar he was lord,Where idols stood, in rich attire adored.

The veteran chiefs who searched to choose a kingTurned all to Danbar for the royal ring.

From Sandali they turned their faces round,And chiefs from Chin’s far march desired him crowned.

The potentates of Kashmir all agreedTo hail him king, the ruler they would heed.

The noble Mai from Danbar took his seatUpon the throne, his rise to rule complete.

He placed Jamhur’s bright crown upon his head,And justice with his bounteous rule was spread.

He took Gav’s mother as his wife and queen,And cherished her, his life, with love serene.

By Mai that fairy-faced fair queen conceived;Her fortune rose, in heaven’s grace received.

She bore Talkhand within that royal land;The mighty monarch blessed him, hand in hand.

He loved that infant with his whole heart’s fire,And cherished him with every fond desire.

Talkhand was two, and Gav was seven years old;And Gav already showed a warrior’s mold.

He grew a mighty warrior, strong in frame,While youthful glory gathered round his name.

Then Mai fell ill; his glad heart turned to care,And grief began to thicken in the air.

He languished, sick, two weeks in bitter dread,Then left the world and joined the silent dead.

All Sandali was sorrowful and cried,And burned with anguish when the monarch died.

They mourned their king for one full month in grief;The troops assembled, seeking some relief.

The great men and the warriors of the state,All versed in wisdom, met to settle fate.

They weighed the matter long in grave debate,Until one sage arose to set it straight:

“This lady, once great Jamhur’s honored bride,Has kept from evil, pure and firm in pride.

In both her marriages she sought the right,And followed justice with a constant light.

This lady comes from high and noble birth,Just, upright, and revered throughout the earth.

Let her be queen and keep their memory whole,The legacy of kings of just control.”

The whole assembly gave assent to this,And deemed her rule the way to keep their bliss.

Then spoke the sage before the wise queen’s face:“Take now the throne for both sons in this place.

This course will make for greatness; there is noneMore fit until their childhood’s years are done.

When they are fit to claim the royal throne,Resign the realm and wealth to be their own.

Then be their counselor and closest friend,And guide their reigns with wisdom to the end.”

The lady, favored by the turn of fate,Gave luster to the crown and royal state.

She graced the throne, grew kinder, just, and wise,And joy rose through the realm before men’s eyes.

She chose two men, both traveled, learned, and pure,Accomplished, holy, steady, and mature.

To them she gave the princes as a charge,Two sons of lofty lineage, bright and large.

Yet not a day would pass without her care;To see them thrive was all her joy and prayer.

As both increased in knowledge and in might,Their royal promise rose before men’s sight.

At times one came alone before the queen,And asked what future signs in him were seen:

“Which of us two is fitter for command,More high of heart and shrewder in the land?”

The mother answered both in measured phrase,“To learn which one excels in royal ways,

Show prowess, counsel, faith, and practiced skill,With gracious speech and judgment free from ill.

For wisdom, modesty, and just commandAre marks of those who merit crown and land.

Since both of you from royal blood descend,You both must prove what virtues crown the end.”

When either came alone and made his claim,And asked whose throne and crown would lift his name,

“Which of us two shall wear the royal crown,And hold the troops and treasures of renown?”

She answered him, “The throne shall fall to you;Your wisdom, counsel, fortune make it due.”

She said the same to each one in his turn,Until this hope in both began to burn.

Thus each expected throne and crown and fame,The army, wealth, good fortune, and great name.

With baleful tutors guiding either youth,They reached manhood and wandered far from truth.

Through mutual envy both endured distress,And both desired crown and wealth’s excess.

The whole realm and the army split in two;Good men grew fearful of what strife might do.

Impassioned by their tutors’ poisonous speech,Both sons came near their mother, each by each.

They cried, “Which one is best in good and ill?Which one is meekest and of stronger will?”

That prudent lady answered, “First conveneWith sages, men whose hearts are pure, serene.

Resolve this question peacefully with them;Let wisdom be your crown’s first diadem.

Then you and both your tutors should inquireOf famous great men what your rights require.

Ask those in counsel skilled throughout the stateWhat course should govern this divided fate.

Whoever seeks to rule and reign alone,Needs wisdom, treasure, troops, and strength his own.

For when a tyrant holds the royal crown,The world grows hot and weighs its people down.”

Shrewd Gav spoke to his mother, grave and fair:“Do not deflect my question into air.

If I am not the realm’s own luster, say;But do not turn from truth another way.

To young Talkhand yield throne and crown and land,And I will serve beneath his just command.

But if by age, by wisdom, and by birth,As sprung from great Jamhur, I hold more worth,

Then bar him from a rash and lawless claim,Before his anger sets the realm aflame.”

His mother answered, “Curb your rash intent;Do not let royal blood be vainly spent.

Whoever takes the throne must understand:Stand ready, with a free and open hand.

He must guard his pure soul from inward ill,And walk the sage’s path with knowledge still.

He must be wary of the foe in fight,And heed what keeps his reputation bright.

The Master of the sun and moon will weighHis just and unjust acts on judgment’s day.

If kings oppress a gnat by wrongful deed,Their spirits mourn in hell for that misdeed.

The world is darker than the deepest night;Men’s hearts need hairlike subtlety and sight.

Thus soul and body both are kept from ill,For guile can never serve a righteous will.

When one is crowned and rules by justice shown,The world rejoices and his fame is known.

Yet brick and dust shall be his final bed,Or funeral fire, when breath and power have fled.

Of such a stock as this Jamhur was sprung;No deed of ill lay hidden on his tongue.

He died before the time that fate had planned,His younger brother heir to all the land.

Great Mai from Danbar came, still young and wise,A counselor beneath auspicious skies.

All Sandali went out to welcome him,With eager hearts when fortunes looked most dim.

He sat upon the throne of royal power,With girdle girt and open hands each hour.

He sought me as his spouse, and we were wed,So cares of state might be more wisely led.

Since you are elder both in years and mind,Do not let crown and wealth make spirit blind.

Strive not to vex your soul for rank or state,Nor treasure, crown, or power’s fleeting weight.

If I choose one, the other will be filledWith pain and anger, and his heart be chilled.

Shed no blood for the sake of crown and store;This world stays with no mortal evermore.”

When fierce Talkhand had heard his mother speak,He liked it not; his heart was hard, not weak.

He answered her, “Your judgment favors him;You make my rightful claim grow faint and dim.

Though Gav is elder by the years he bears,Age by itself no sovereign worth declares.

Within this land and realm are many menAs old as vultures in a mountain den.

Yet such men never sought the royal seat,Nor crown, nor throne, nor treasure at their feet.

My father died while young and gave to noneThe throne of majesty beneath the sun.

I see your foolish heart inclined that way,And all your preference clear as open day.

Yet I could mold his like from clay. May shameBy God’s grace never stain my father’s name.”

His mother swore a solemn oath and said,“May heaven’s azure vault forsake my head

If ever I desired of God to makeGav king, or held that wish for Gav’s own sake.

Think charitably on this royal case,And do not rail at heaven’s changing face.

All good is God’s; on Him your hopes rely;Put no trust in the ever-turning sky.

I gave you all the counsel that I could;If counsel fails, then do what seems most good.

Consider better things and make them live;Let wisdom be the food your actions give.”

She summoned all the wise men of the land,And told them what the trouble would demand.

She brought the treasury keys of both dead kings,Where guarded wealth lay stored with royal things.

She showed the riches gathered and retainedBefore experienced men whose minds were trained.

She gave her sons an equal share of all,And sought to satisfy each rival call.

Then Gav spoke out to young Talkhand and said,“You seem good-hearted, yet are falsely led.

Jamhur, as you have heard, was greater farThan Mai in counsel, years, and royal star.

Your sire, that virtuous man of noble name,Showed no ambition for the throne or fame.

He felt no shame in serving as a liege,Nor sought the crown by stratagem or siege.

See if the righteous Judge approves that IShould serve my younger brother beneath the sky.

Our mother spoke with justice in her breath;Why should your heart rejoice in justice’s death?

Let us call chiefs and bid them all appear,Wise men whose knowledge spans the turning sphere.

We shall attend to what the sages say,And grant their judgment in this royal fray.

We shall gain knowledge from their measured art,And understanding shall inform each heart.”

The two wise tutors, men of counsel, met;Long arguments before the court they set.

Gav’s tutor claimed that Gav should be the king,And hold first place beneath the royal ring.

Talkhand’s own tutor then arose to speak,And pressed his claim with arguments oblique.

They wrangled there until the princes stoodAt odds in heart, abandoning the good.

Within one hall two thrones were set to vie;The princes sat as rivals, eye to eye.

Each had his ardent tutor on his right,Each coveting inheritance and might.

They summoned all the nobles to the hall,And seated ranks of great men, one and all.

Then those two sages loosened tongues and cried,“O famous men whose names are magnified,

Of these two chiefs of royal blood and fame,Who guard ancestral customs and their name,

Which youth will you accept to rule this land?Which seems more holy, fitter for command?”

The priests, the nobles, and the wise of heartWere lost in wonder at this dangerous art.

The princes sat, each on his separate seat,While both ill-omened sages plied deceit.

The citizens and soldiers knew full wellThat only war and strife could rise and swell.

The empire would be rent apart through pain;The wise withdrew in worry and in strain.

Then one among the throng raised up his head,Rose to his feet, and thus with caution said:

“How can we judge what profits crown and king,Before two famous youths who claim this thing?

Let us assemble when tomorrow breaks,And weigh among ourselves the rival stakes.

Then we shall give our sentence to them both;Perhaps they will accept the council’s oath.”

They left the hall in murmurs and in spite,With sorrow in their souls, with sighs that night.

They said, “This business has grown hard to bear,Beyond the counsel even wise men share.

We never saw two kings confronted thus,With evil ministers to counsel us.”

All night their faces carried worry’s trace;At dawn the sun rose over mountain’s face.

The great and wise convened at break of day,While Sandali roared round them in dismay.

On every side each man expressed his view,And argued as his private judgment drew.

One warrior cried for Gav and took his side,Another praised Talkhand with equal pride.

Their tongues grew tired; no firm accord was made;At last the great assembly broke and strayed.

The citizens and soldiers turned away,Each toward the prince whose cause had won his day.

To Talkhand one gave homage, heart and hand,And cursed Gav’s cause throughout the troubled land.

Another came to Gav with gorz and sword,And pledged his life to him in firm accord.

Confusion gripped all Sandali; the throngSplit into rival factions, massed and strong.

The sage declared, “When two command one hall,That house is certain in the end to fall.”

To Gav and to Talkhand the news was fanned:“Each quarter holds its own chief in command.

Each ravages the city day by day;The princes must not let this evil stay.”

This news filled both with fear; they kept strict guard,Through every hour, their vigil long and hard.

One day those princes chanced to meet alone,Without their Pahlevans or guards well known.

Their tongues were loosed in anger, face to face,With frowning brows and hearts devoid of grace.

Gav heard the news and sorrow filled his breast;His troubled heart could find no peace or rest.

He said, “My brother, do not act this way;For us, this matter has gone far astray.

Be satisfied and follow no mad scheme;The wise can see such lures are but a dream.

As you have heard, Mai’s service never wanedWhile great Jamhur sat on the throne and reigned.

When boundless Jamhur died, I was too smallTo rule the realm or govern you at all.

They could not give the throne to one so young;The land still kept his justice on its tongue.

The world had grown so just beneath his reignThat none dared seek his seat through greed or pain.

His brother was to him as soul and frame;All wished that Mai should rule in Jamhur’s name.

Had I been fit to claim the crown to own,No man would then have called on Mai alone.

Let us pursue the precedents of kings,And hear what wisdom on this question brings.

I am your better both by years and sire;Do not let false ambition feed your fire.

You say, ‘I am the chief, the better one,’But say that not beneath the turning sun.

Seek not, without the right, the throne of kings,Nor fill the realm with strife and bitter things.”

Talkhand replied, “Enough of subtle speech;No man gains power through the arts you teach.

This crown and throne I took from my own sire;I hold the seed he planted through desire.

From this day forth I guard the realm and store,With scimitar and battle evermore.

Speak not of Mai, nor Jamhur’s mighty name;If crown you seek, then fight and win by fame.”

They turned away, their heads with anger rife,And entered Sandali to ready strife.

The soldiers and the citizens took arms,And filled both princes’ courts with war’s alarms.

For Talkhand one whole faction took its stand,While Gav’s supporters gathered, sword in hand.

The battle-cry rose at the princes’ doors;No standing-room was left on city floors.

Talkhand was first to arm himself for fight,For restless courage drove him through the night.

He opened up his father’s treasure hoard,And gave out helms and armor that it stored.

The state was rent asunder; wise men feared,And asked what end from heaven now appeared:

“What has the sky intended in its will,And which young prince is fated blood to spill?”

News of both kings was spread through all the realm,And troops from every side took shield and helm.

Talkhand was first to put his armor on,And bathe his hands in blood before the dawn.

Gav donned his jowshan and his helmet too,And called his father’s spirit into view.

Embittered thus, the princes housed each beast,And saddled elephants from west to east.

The very earth seemed tense, as if in thrall,And longed for battle at the city wall.

The city filled with gongs and Indian bells;The karnays blared through all the hills and dells.

The two young kings marched out to take their stand,Each bearing his own life within his hand.

That battlefield filled heaven with amaze,And dust of troops obscured the watchers’ gaze.

The karnay flourish and the cymbal clashWent up from both lines like a thunder flash.

The wings were drawn to left and right in line;The earth seemed mountain-like beneath that sign.

The fronts ran two farsangs, extending wide;Their countless ordered ranks stretched side by side.

Each mighty king rode forth with proud command,High on an elephant above his band.

A tiger on one banner was displayed;A homa on the other was portrayed.

The footmen stood in front with spear and shield,All ready for the slaughter of the field.

Gav looked and saw the air with streaks arrayed,Like markings on a savage leopard made.

Each throat was choked with dust, the plain with blood,And lances led the way through battle’s flood.

Though Gav was angered by Talkhand’s intent,His wisdom kept his rage from being spent.

He chose a fluent noble from his side,A chief among his lords, in speech well tried.

He said, “Go now to young Talkhand and say:‘Do not pursue this wrongful warlike way.

Do not wage war against your brother’s life,Nor drown the land in such a wicked strife.

For bloodshed here will meet you after death,When judgment measures every mortal breath.

Give ear to Gav’s advice; do not go wrongThrough evil counsel whispered all day long.

Let no reproach be left to mark our name,That Hind became a realm of blood and shame.

Let not this realm lie desolate, a denFor lions, leopards, beasts of mountain glen.

Forbear this wanton strife and bloody deed;Let wisdom’s net restrain ambitious greed.

Bring peace to make my grieving heart rejoice;Let royal wisdom still your anger’s voice.

From this broad march to Chin extend your hand;Take all you wish, and peace shall bless the land.

I shall esteem your love as my own soul,And set you as my crown, my heart’s bright goal.

Let us share kingship as we shared the wealth;The throne and crown are not worth blood or health.

But if your heart toward strife alone has grown,To scatter all the flocks beneath your throne,

In this world you will carry blame and stain,And in the next be judged for all this pain.

Incline not, brother, toward the way of wrong;Against the right, no wrongful thing stands long.’”

Before Talkhand when Gav’s good envoy came,He gave the message in his master’s name.

Talkhand replied, “Return to Gav and say:‘Do not use subterfuge in war this way.

I call you neither brother nor a friend;No kinship joins us to a common end.

No blood or spirit binds your heart to mine;You doom the realm by treachery’s design.

You come against my gallant troops in pride;The knaves are with you, gathered at your side.

They serve you now, but when God weighs the soul,The guilt is yours; you answer for the whole.

Ill-famed, misborn, and cursed you stand in shame;The blessings shall be mine, and yours the blame.

For all blood spilled by you from this day forth,Your name shall bear the guilt from south to north.

You said, “Let us divide the realm we own,”But all the kingdom’s power is mine alone.

The land, the rites, the ivory seat and crown,From sun to Fish, are mine in field and town.

So long as you play king and claim my share,My soul would leave my body in despair.

I would rather lose both body and soul,Than see you gaze on crown or kingly goal.

My army is set; the air like brocade glowsWith gold-shot arrows, darts, and spearhead rows.

So thick the shafts and spearpoints crowd the skies,No rider knows the path before his eyes.

I will scatter heads across the battlefield,And make Gav’s troops a wailing harvest yield.

I will lead such a band in warlike pride,That none shall stand where my fierce ranks abide.

I will lead Gav in bonds before my face,While all his troops behold their own disgrace.

From slave to prince, no man shall dare to fight,Or put on battle-armor in my sight.’”

The prudent envoy heard his harsh reply,Returned, and spoke beneath King Gav’s clear eye.

Gav’s heart was saddened, for he saw no loreIn young Talkhand, but rage and nothing more.

Full of care, he called his sage aside,And spoke of all the answer, hurt in pride:

“Suggest a remedy for this affair,You seeker after wisdom, just and fair.

The desert fills with blood and trunkless heads,While souls go to the Judge all heaven dreads.

This battle, when all reckonings are done,Must not bring ill fortune beneath the sun.”

The sage replied, “O king, no man need teachYour wisdom how far counsel’s hand can reach.

But if you seek my counsel, let me say:Be gentle with your brother in this fray.

Send one more envoy to him yet again,A man of rank and eloquence and ken.

Give him another message; he may ceaseTo nurse his hatred, and incline to peace.

Resign to him the treasures others gained,The wealth by toil of former hands obtained.

Prefer your brother’s life to royal store;No treasure should be valued even more.

Since crown and signet-ring belong to you,Do not fight over wealth as rivals do.

I have observed the signs that heaven displays;They mark the ending of his numbered days.

Of all the planets, not one favors him;His star has set, his fortune has grown dim.

Moreover, he will perish on this field;You need not press him till his strength must yield.

Give him whatever wealth or steeds he asks,And keep your heart from later grief’s harsh tasks.

Keep back the signet, crown, and throne alone,Lest troops believe your courage overthrown.

But you, as king and fortune’s chosen lord,Know heaven’s purposes with deeper accord.”

When Gav had heard his tutor’s speech, he triedA new endeavor, sorrow at his side.

With wet face, for his brother’s sake in pain,He chose a man whom stars had favored plain.

A man of rank, of eloquence and grace,And sent him toward Talkhand’s hard-hearted face.

He said, “Go now to young Talkhand and say:‘Gav wastes in sleepless trouble and dismay,

About the purpose heaven sets in sight,And all the danger of this coming fight.

He prays the Judge almighty over allWill stir up love before your fortunes fall.

May prudence rise again within your breast,So you renounce this strife and war’s behest.

If by your sage, who haunts and darkens you,Your soul has grown so fierce in what you do,

Yet none can flee the course that heaven has spun;No man escapes what destiny has done.

Ask the twelve signs and seven planets nowHow this unjust work ends beneath their vow.

Foes compass us, and all the world is filledWith wicked men by harsh ambition willed.

Kashmir’s great lord and Chin’s own Faghfoor pressOur realm; against us both they stir and stress.

On both sides we shall be mocked by chiefs,By warrior-lords who watch our blood and griefs.

They will say, “Why should Talkhand and Gav contend,And fight for throne and crown to no good end?

Are they not of one stock by royal birth,Both sons of holy sires of honored worth?

Yet when evil counselors inflame their blood,They put their hands to slaughter’s crimson flood.”

If you will leave your men and come to me,Your friendship will from darkness set me free,

I will bestow on you fine cloth and gold,Brocade and steeds, with treasures manifold.

The provinces and jewels shall be your own,With royal crown and carved ivory throne.

These from an elder brother are no shame;I do not seek a battle’s bitter fame.

If you do not attend to this advice,At last repentance will exact its price.’”

Swift as a torrent to Talkhand he sped,And stood before that dark-souled prince, and said

All Gav had told him, adding even moreOf kingship, wealth, gold coins, and royal store.

When proud Talkhand had heard the envoy speak,And heard the prudent path that Gav would seek,

He would not yield to what his brother said,For heaven had another purpose spread.

He answered, “Say to Gav: ‘Be schemer still;May your tongue fall beneath the sword of ill.

May Magian fire burn your body through;I know the craft behind what comes from you.

Your crude proposals I have heard and seen;Your only craft is treachery dark and lean.

How can you offer me the royal treasure?Who are you among such men of measure?

By truth, your life must nearly now be spent,Since you show such prolonged anxiety’s bent.

The armies’ ranks extend for farsangs today;The world is filled with elephants in array.

With men and horses, standards, jowshan, spear;March forth and set the battle-order clear.

You came to fight; why do you dally still?You shall see prowess shaped by royal will.

The stars themselves shall seal your final hour,When my assault has burned away your power.

You know but practice, craft, and lying art,And sense that downfall reaches toward your heart.

You have grown far from counsel, crown, and throne;No wise man calls such fortune yours to own.’”

The envoy came, his boastful message grim,And told Gav all Talkhand had said to him.

Thus until dark night showed its face on high,Envoys went back and forth beneath the sky.

They camped upon the field to wait for day,And dug a trench around their armed array.

The outposts made their rounds around each line;So passed the night beneath the watchful sign.

When Sol rose into Leo, earth was bright,A sea of gold and splendor to the sight.

The dome of lapis-lazuli turned gold,While in the east the burning dawn unrolled.

From both enclosures, karnays’ blaring rang,And kousts with deep and warlike thunder sang.

The flags of both young princes rose and spread,While armies formed to right and left ahead.

At either center those exalted twoStood, each with his sage minister in view.

Gav bade his sage proclaim to every chief:“Raise standards now; let fear find no relief.

Let every warrior hold his sword in hand,But none advance without my clear command.

No footman shall abandon where he stands;Keep ranks and hearts alike in careful hands.

No sober, wise, and prudent man should fightWith reckless haste that clouds his judgment’s light.

I wish to see how young Talkhand deploys;Let none be lured by tumult’s maddened noise.

The counsel of all-holy God alonePrevails from sun to dust and star to stone.

I hope Almighty God will grant our sideA glorious fate, with fortune as our guide.

We tried all counsel, pleaded more and more,But young Talkhand has closed his heart and door.

If now our army wins the field today,And sun and moon support us in the fray,

Shed no blood for spoil or plundered gain;You shall receive rich treasure for your pain.

If any famous warrior from our sideBreaks toward the center in his battle-pride,

And comes upon Talkhand amid the fight,He must not cast him down by force or might.

Let none stand in the raging elephants’ way,With girdles bound, prepared to join the fray.”

The soldiers shouted, “We will do your will,And make your counsel our adornment still.”

Upon the other side Talkhand addressedHis troops, with warlike fury in his breast:

“You warders of the throne, draw every sword,Confide in God and strike the hostile horde.

That we may be victorious in this hour,And fortune’s star may ripen into power,

Slay all the foe. When Gav is seized alive,Let no man kill him, though the battle thrive.

Do not address him harshly in your hate,But bring him bound before my royal state.

Bring Gav down from the beast on which he rides,And lead him bound where my own tent abides.”

Then karnays blared before the royal tent;The air with neighs and booming kousts was rent.

Steeds neighed, chiefs raised dust with charging cries,And massive gorzes whirled beneath the skies.

The hills and streams re-echoed with the roar;It seemed that heaven shrank before the war.

At shouting, axe-blow, sword, and battle sound,No head from foot was known upon that ground.

The sun withdrew its skirt from shafts that sped,And eagle plumes above the ranks of dead.

Earth seemed a sea of blood, with heads and handsLike pebbles sunk beneath red-flowing sands.

The princes from the center came in might,Like elephants released upon the fight.

From both arose the warning, loud and clear:“Keep far away from my two-headed spear.

O Brother, be not forward in the fray;Beware my sword’s hard edge, and keep away.”

Thus each cried out against the other’s fame,While earth became a blood-filled sea of flame.

The valiant swordsmen wheeled around the field,With blows that shattered helmet, jowshan, shield.

Beneath the warriors’ blows, the blood and brainFlowed out in streams across the trampled plain.

Thus till the sun had left the sky the strifeSurpassed all bounds and drained the field of life.

Then from the field a shout from Gav was heard,And all the combatants received his word:

“You warriors, take no revenge todayOn those who seek safe quarter in the fray.

Know that my brother now has turned away,And left alone, cannot abide this day.”

Then many chiefs asked quarter; many moreWere slaughtered on the field in streams of gore.

Talkhand’s whole army scattered in dismay,Their shepherd gone, their broken ranks gave way.

When young Talkhand was stranded and bereft,Upon his elephant, with no one left,

Gav called, “My brother, leave this battlefield;Go home, where palace walls can be your shield.

By truth, you shall not suffer harm from me,Nor from my men, if you from battle flee.

Give thanks to God, the source of all good things,For life preserved amid the strife of kings.

But this is not the time for long advice;Go now, before new blood demands its price.”

When young Talkhand had heard his brother’s word,He writhed with shame, and all his soul was stirred.

He wept, and toward Morgh he left the fight,Where troops came flocking to his standard’s might.

He opened magazines and gave supplies;His men grew glad, content before his eyes.

He gave each worthy man a robe of grace,And paid the soldiers in that troubled place.

When all had taken pay, and in his heartHis warlike rage had lessened in its part,

He sent this message back to Gav in scorn:“You are to throne as weed to garden born.

You shall burn soon; your spirit shall be maimed,Your eyes sewn up, your former courage shamed.

Do not suppose I cannot harm your soul;Do not let self-deceit become your goal.”

When Gav had heard the savage words he sent,All brotherly affection withered, spent.

His heart filled up with anger, and he saidTo his own sage, with grief around him spread:

“Behold this monstrous thing, this savage mind;What remedy can royal wisdom find?”

The sage replied, “O king, whose worth is shown,You keep your father’s memory as your own.

In knowledge, none can equal your command;In might, you stand above the royal band.

I told my lord the truth by sun and moon,That this proud prince’s end would follow soon.

Until he falls and writhes upon the dust,He will not turn from strife or raging lust.

In this dispute, be patient and delay;Reply not harshly, seek a peaceful way.

Restore the bond of kinship and accord,Though all his works but aim at strife and sword.

What can he do? It is the will of God;If he fights on, we too will tread that sod.

He hurries forward; we have strength to wait,And patience is a shield against hard fate.”

King Gav then called the messenger to him,And spoke with courtesy, though eyes were dim.

He said, “Go say to my brother, ‘Do not beSo violent, brutal, and from judgment free.

Such fury ill befits your noble stem;Your father’s honor was his diadem.

I see that you reject alliance still,And turn aside my counsel and good will.

Yet still I wish your fame to flourish bright,Your name well honored in all people’s sight.

Now I will show you all within my heart,And speak the purpose held in secret part.

Your evil minister has sundered youFrom quiet, wisdom, and advice most true.

Speak only what is just, for all the world,My brother, is but wind and mockery hurled.

Incline to peace, and I shall send you allThe wealth, and loyal lieges at your call.

Your doubtful soul will see within my heartNothing but justice, plain in every part.

May everyone be joyful in your life;My words and purpose do not point to strife.

If you, self-willed, will heed the words I say,This realm may yet be spared a darkened day.

But if your heart is wholly bent on fight,And peace and pact find no place in your sight,

I shall array my warriors for the field,And they suffice to make a kingdom yield.

Let us go out beyond all peopled lands,And lead both armies beside the sea’s far sands.

There dig a trench around them, deep and wide,To hold our armies in on every side.

Then flood that trench with water from the main,And drive the men to fight as fates ordain.

So that the worsted army cannot flee,Nor break away through field or hill or sea.

The one of us who wins that bounded placeShall shed no blood upon that narrowed space.

But take the foemen captive in the end;May God shield us from sword and shaft, my friend.’”

Swift as the wind the envoy crossed the land,And placed the message in Talkhand’s own hand.

When he had heard all that the message said,His heart grew fierce; he would not bend his head.

He summoned leaders of his troops to hear,And seated each according to his sphere.

He told them Gav’s reply and stated the case,Then asked their judgment, looking face to face:

“What is your judgment on this sea-side warThat Gav proposes near the water’s roar?

Shall we turn his fancy into fact and fight?Will any man draw back from battle’s sight?

If you are one with me, then not a manWill shrink a moment from my battle plan.

What matter whether sea or mountain stand,When we seek battle with a kingly hand?

If you will be my comrades in the strife,The leopard does not fear the fox’s life.

All we who seek high fame from all the worldShall see our highest hopes in glory furled.

The aspirant should rather die with fameThan live to decorate a victor’s name.

Whoever bears himself stoutly in fight,His bearing shall bring wealth and honor bright.

He shall receive from me abundant store,With servants, steeds, and treasures more and more.

From fair Kashmir down to Chin’s eastern sea,The states will bring their homage all to me.

I shall bestow their cities on my menBefore the crown and throne are mine again.”

The chieftains bowed their faces to the ground,And all their voices made one martial sound:

“Our choice is fame; our king shall win the field,And Fortune make the world before you yield.”

Then from Talkhand’s gate arose a cry,And troops stirred every province far and high.

He led his army seaward, proud and grim;The troops of Gav appeared confronting him.

The two kings camped, each one desiring blood,Each seeking vengeance in that iron flood.

Around both armies they dug trenches deep,And let the sea-water within them sweep.

Both armies drew up face to face in wrath,While foam was on the horsemen’s lips and path.

The wings were marshaled out on either flank,The baggage lodged along the salt sea’s bank.

Those royal kings, with anger in each heart,Prepared two elephants to play their part.

Each at his army’s center took command,And set his warlike will upon the land.

The earth grew black beneath the darkened sky,With spears and silken banners lifted high.

Dust darkened; tabiras, karnays all cried,While gorz and ax struck hard on every side.

The sea itself appeared to boil and roll,While the nahangs cried blood from bank to shoal.

At battle-ax and gorz and sword’s hard blow,A red mist from the deep began to flow.

As that dark veil was drawn across the sun,The world’s face vanished where the war had run.

The air seemed filled with swords that fell like rain,And planted crimson tulips on the plain.

The fallen lay so thick across the ground,No vulture dared to wheel above the mound.

Some lay within the trench where bloodstreams ran;Some headless on the field in death’s dark span.

The sea rose with the wind; the armies pressed,Troop after troop, with fury in each breast.

The plain was filled with livers, hearts, and brains;The horses’ hoofs were clogged with crimson stains.

Talkhand looked from his elephant; blood spreadLike flooding Nile, and turned the whole earth red.

The wind blew hard; he hungered, parched and worn,Yet found no rest beneath the battle horn.

No refuge showed from sun, wind, scimitar;He swooned and died beneath his evil star.

He died upon his golden saddle fair,And left Hind’s realm to Gav through battle’s snare.

When loss befalls the man whose heart seeks gain,How fierce his grief, how bitter grows his pain.

Since gain and loss alike must pass away,Enjoy, wise sage, the pleasures of today.

However great the wealth your labor brings,The world is not worth grief for all such things.

Gav from the center failed to see the sign,The prince’s flag above Talkhand’s far line.

He sent a Pahlevan to wheel ahead,And search before the elephants with dread.

“Search all the foemen’s front for farsangs round,And learn where Talkhand’s scarlet flag is found.

That banner shadowed horsemen everywhere;The fight seems halted, unless dust blinds my stare.”

The horseman came and searched both field and line,But did not see the chief’s red battle-sign.

He saw the foemen’s center in dismay,The horsemen seeking their lost prince that day.

He turned away and came as quick as dust,And gave King Gav the tidings, plain and just.

Gav then dismounted, and on foot he wentFor two farsangs, in tears and long lament.

When he beheld dead young Talkhand, aghast,And saw the soldiers’ faces overcast,

He searched the body, scanning head to heel,But found no wound of arrow or of steel.

Then that exalted monarch wailed aloud,And sat beside the corpse with anguish bowed.

He said, “Alas, young warrior, you are gone,Your wounded soul in anguish traveling on.

You died beneath the malice of your star;Else no cruel wind had struck you from afar.

You cast your teachers’ counsel all away,And darkened now your mother’s heart today.

Much did I warn you with all kindliness,But my advice could bring you no success.”

When Gav’s own sage beheld Talkhand lie dead,The world-aspiring prince, his spirit fled,

And saw his brother wailing on the plain,With cries that pierced the sky in bitter pain,

He too lamented, grieving at Gav’s side,And cried, “Alas, young prince,” and deeply sighed.

Then turning lips toward counsel, he addressedGav, whose grief was thunder in his breast:

“Exalted king, what profits grief and tears?He has passed beyond these mortal years.

What had to be has been; now give God praise:No hand of yours cut short your brother’s days.

Did I not tell you of his end before,From Mars and Saturn, sun and moon’s own lore?

This youth would bear himself in fight this way,And end the measure of his mortal day.

His work is wind; through ignorance he fell,His strength is gone, his toil an empty shell.

This mighty army burns with wrath and grief,And every eye looks to you for relief.

Content yourself, and make us satisfied;Let wisdom now become your royal guide.

When soldiers see their king in sorrow strayOn foot, and weeping helpless on the way,

His luster lessens in their watching eyes,And even base men dare at last to rise.

A king is like rosewater, pure and bright;Let no harsh blast destroy his royal light.”

Gav heeded what the prudent sage had said,And through the camp his proclamation spread:

“You men of name, brave warriors of the king,Let none remain where battle’s weapons ring.

The armies now are one; division ends.Let all give praise, united now as friends.

Be all beneath my shelter and preserveMy brother’s memory with the love you serve.”

He called the chiefs; from lashes then he shedHis own heart’s blood for Talkhand lying dead.

He made a narrow coffin, rich and bright,Of ivory, gold, and turquoise in the light,

Of teakwood too, and wrapped his brother’s faceIn glossy Chin silk with a mournful grace.

Thus Hind’s great chief from light and life had passed;They sealed the lid with pitch and resin fast.

With musk and camphor sealed, the coffin lay,Then Gav marched onward, tarrying not one day.

The princes’ mother neither slept nor ate,Since they had chosen battle’s fatal gate.

She rested not, but fasted in despair,And watched the road each day with bitter care.

When army-dust rose thick along the road,The wakeful watchman saw the moving load.

He saw the flag of Gav appear in sight,And all the realm’s face filled with troops and might.

From two farsangs he scanned the battle-land,For Talkhand’s elephant and standard grand.

He failed to mark them in the crowded field,And sent a horseman swiftly, truth revealed:

“The army comes from mountainside today,And Gav is with his warriors in array.

No sign of Talkhand reaches ear or eye,No elephant, no flag, no battle-cry.”

His mother wept blood tears that would not dry;Her breast was drenched beneath the bitter sky.

When tidings came that empire’s light was dim,And young Talkhand had died through fortune grim,

That on his golden saddle he had diedAnd left Gav king, she tore her hair and cried.

Into Talkhand’s own palace-hall she ran,And beat her head on every wall and span.

She tore her cheeks and rent her royal gown,Then burned the hall, the treasury, and crown.

She raised a mighty pyre to burn upon,By Hind’s old rite, when hope and sons are gone.

She meant through sorrow to reveal her pain,And join Talkhand beyond the mortal chain.

When of his mother tidings reached the king,He sped the road, his heart with sorrowing.

He came and clasped her, pleading through his grief,With bloody eyes and words that sought relief:

“O loving mother, listen to my plea;No wrong was ours in that field by the sea.

It was not I, nor any comrade’s hand,Nor warriors of this noble army’s band,

Who slew him. None dared breathe on him with scorn;He died beneath the star to which he was born.”

His mother answered, “Wicked man, on youShall fall high heaven’s curse, your rightful due.

You slew your brother for a crown to own;No good man calls such fortune yours alone.”

“O loving mother,” Gav replied in grief,“Think no such evil of me or my chief.

Be calm, and I shall tell the tale entireOf king and band and battle’s bitter fire.

Who would have dared to go and fight with him?Whoever planned such conflict dark and grim?

Now by the Judge who fashioned sun and moon,The night, the day, and heaven’s changing rune,

The signet, throne, and steed, the gorz I brace,The sword and crown shall never see my face

Unless I clear this matter to your soul,And turn your heart from harshness to control.

I shall prove plain that no man’s hand or breathOn young Talkhand brought down the stroke of death.

What man escapes from death upon this earth,Though steel and helm protect his royal worth?

When the bright lamp fails, none can gain one hour,However brave, against death’s hand and power.

If what I prove does not content you now,Then by God’s Lordship and my solemn vow,

I mean to burn my body in the fire,And gladden all my foemen’s dark desire.”

His mother, hearing this, had pity’s light,And feared that Gav might burn his life outright.

She said, “Then show me how Talkhand could dieUpon his elephant beneath the sky.

Unless this matter is made clear to me,My heart will burn, and never shall be free.”

Gav sought his palace full of grief and shame,And called his sage, whose counsel carried fame.

He told what passed, and how his mother’s wordHad angered him until his oath was heard.

They sat alone to weigh the king’s despair;The sage then spoke of how to meet his care:

“My gracious sovereign, this cannot be doneBy us alone beneath the moon and sun.

Let us call sages, men whose fame is sung,From every region and from every tongue.

From Kashmir, Danbar, Morgh, and Mai’s domain,Summon the shrewdest seekers of the plain.”

Gav sent his horsemen out to every side,Wherever sages of true guidance bide.

They came before the portal of the king,To that famed court where learned voices ring.

He held a session of the wise and great,Nobles learned in counsel and debate.

Gav’s sage described the battle and the war,The prince, the trench, the sea-fight, and yet more.

They talked with that sharp-witted man all night,Of trench and water, battle, death, and right.

Not one among them slept, nor sought his bed;They talked until the dawn rose, gold and red.

At daybreak, tabiras began to sound;They called for ebony, and it was found.

Two ingenious counselors carved a board,Foursquare, to show the trench, the field, the sword;

Full sixty-four the squares they scored and lined,As eight by eight the battlefield defined.

They carved two armies, teak and ivory fair,With two crowned kings possessed of royal air.

Both horse and foot were figured on the field,In two opposed arrays with sword and shield.

The steeds and elephants stood in array,With counselors and warriors for the fray.

As armies fight according to their art,Some pressed attack while others held their part.

The king stood posted at the army’s heart,His faithful minister not far apart.

Beside the king his minister was set,To aid his counsel when in danger met;

On either flank two raging elephants stood,With indigo caparisons of wood;

Beside the elephants two steeds of war,Whose riders watched the field and what it bore;

And on each outer wing a warrior-Rukh,Whose furious charge the ranks opposing shook.

The footman’s task was always to advance,And lend the battle strength at every chance.

When he had crossed the field from end to end,He served as counselor, the king’s own friend.

The counselor could move one square, no more,To join the battle in this mimic war.

The armored elephant leaped two squares wide,To strike the foemen on the further side;

The horse moved three, but turned along its track,One square aside to carry its attack.

The warrior-Rukh could range along each way,And charge across the field throughout the fray.

Each fought within the station he was given,And kept the bounds by which his course was driven.

When one beheld the king exposed in fight,He cried, “Beware, O King!” with all his might.

The king would shift his square and seek escape,Until the tightening battle closed its shape.

When Rukh and horse, the minister and men,And elephant had closed each passage then,

The king looked out across the foursquare field,And saw his beaten ranks compelled to yield.

The trench and water blocked his paths of flight;His broken troops could offer no more fight.

With foes before, behind, and either side,He stood hemmed in with nowhere left to ride.

Exhausted, parched, the king succumbed to fate;The turning heavens brought him to checkmate.

King Gav, the great and good, took deep delightIn chess, born from the tale of Talkhand’s fight.

His mother watched each piece and studied long,Her heart consumed by grief, her sorrow strong.

Hour after hour she sat before the game,While anguish fed within her like a flame.

Her eyes remained fixed always on the board;For Talkhand all her thought and longing poured.

Her whole desire was centered on his fate,And grief within her heart grew ever great.

She shed red tears and turned to chess for aid,As though its moves might soothe the wound it made.

She neither ate nor stirred from where she stayed,Until her span of mortal life decayed.

Such is this ancient world: its joys depart;No lasting gladness dwells in any heart.

And here the tale I heard of old is done,An ancient story, passed from father to son.

That chessboard from those days remained to tellThe memory of all that once befell.

Mark what Shadan, Barzin’s son, revealed,A matter long from human knowledge sealed.

When Anooshirvan was king of kings, may famePreserve through endless time his royal name,

He gathered sages learned in every sort,To lend a greater luster to his court.

The whole world rested under his command,The chiefs, the wise, the brave of every land.

Physicians, speakers, those who led their peers,And dream interpreters of practiced years.

Among them stood a sage of high renown,Barzvi, physician, honored by the crown.

He was an orator, advanced in age,Acclaimed in every learning as a sage.

One day Barzvi approached the royal place,And spoke before the Shah with reverent face:

“O Shah, a friend to knowledge, keen to learn,Who seeks and keeps the truths for which hearts yearn,

Today I pored upon an Indian leaf,And found a marvel passing all belief.

It said, ‘Upon the mountains of Hind growsA herb like Roman silk that softly glows.

If one expert should gather it with art,And knowledge guide the hand, the mind, the heart,

Then if he strews it on a lifeless frame,The corpse will speak and life return like flame.’

Now, with the king’s consent, I shall set out,And test that wonder, sifting truth from doubt.

With learning as companion on the way,I shall explore what those strange pages say.

It fits Anooshirvan’s great reign aloneThat dead men rise and speak, by wonder shown.”

The Shah replied, “This hardly may be true,Yet still the effort is the thing to do.

Take now my letter to the Raja’s hand,And see the wonders of that Indian land.

Seek comrades fit to aid you in the quest,And fortune, wakeful, riding in your breast.

You may reveal some marvel to the earth,For some deep meaning gave these wonders birth.

Bear worthy gifts before the Raja’s eyes;He will provide the counsel of the wise.”

Then Anooshirvan opened wide his hoard,And brought out gifts fit for a sovereign lord:

Gold coins and Roman silk and beaver-skin,With fragrant musk and amber packed within;

Three hundred horsemen, disciplined and bold,Escorted him with caskets of pure gold;

With royal letters and a costly load,Barzvi set forth upon the Indian road.

He reached the Raja, bowed, and gave the scroll,And laid its charge before him, clear and whole.

When that king read the Shah’s command inside,He honored Anooshirvan and then replied:

“Our persons, troops, and treasuries are one;What he commands through justice shall be done.

By throne, by grace, by Fortune’s high estate,The pious Shah may turn the course of fate.

The Brahmans of the mountains, one and all,Shall answer freely to your every call.

My minister, my treasury and store,My hoarded wealth; all Hindustan, and more,

With all its good and ill, its least and best,Are yours beneath my power, at your behest.”

They lodged the envoy in a splendid place,Beside the Raja, honored with all grace.

They gave him food, rich carpets, fine brocade,And robes of honor, sumptuously made.

All night the Raja spoke with priests and sages,The great of Ghanooj, learned from many ages.

When daylight opened over hills afar,And earth was kindled by the morning star,

He called physicians learned in every cure,And those whose knowledge stood most firm and sure.

He bade them seek Barzvi and each make knownThe knowledge that long practice made his own.

The erudite, well versed in medicine’s art,Went with Barzvi, each ready for his part.

On foot Barzvi searched every mountain slope;His learned guides went with him, filled with hope.

He gathered herbs both dried and fresh with dew,The green, the withered, every kind he knew.

He ground the herbs, then scattered what he madeUpon the lifeless bodies there displayed.

No corpse revived, though every herb was tried;Each healing virtue withered up and died.

The seekers climbed each ridge and searched each slope;Their toil brought back no fruit and left no hope.

Then Barzvi knew, “This power is God’s to own;He lives forever on His deathless throne.”

Thoughts of the Shah and chiefs of high renownFilled him with shame and weighed his spirit down.

He thought of all the treasure he had brought,And grieved at his own speech and fruitless thought.

Chagrined, he said, “Why did that witless sageSet down such folly on an Indian page?

Why write in levity and cause such pain,Such weary toil and travail for no gain?”

Thereafter he addressed the Indian wise:“Experienced chiefs, revered in learned eyes,

Do you know one more learned in this land,Whose knowledge passes all within your band?”

The sages said together in accord,“There dwells an ancient man of wisdom stored.

He passes us in knowledge and in years,And bests each chief whose learning still appears.”

Barzvi replied to those of Hind’s renown,“O ardent souls, whose names wear honor’s crown,

Exert yourselves yet more to be my guide,And lead me to that sage who may decide

How best to help us now and lend his aidIn this pursuit where all our hopes have strayed.”

They led Barzvi to him with anxious care,Full of concern and many words to share.

When eloquent Barzvi approached the sage,He told his toils and all that filled the page:

The writing he had found, the experts’ speech,The mountain search that failed beyond their reach.

The ancient sage replied in ample word,And made the hidden meaning plain when heard:

“We found the selfsame matter in those lines,And once pursued the same elusive signs.

Now I will tell you what we came to know;The noble heart must listen as words flow.

The herb stands for the sage, the mountain, lore;He lives apart, increasing wisdom’s store.

The corpse is one who does not understand;His folly troubles all throughout the land.

In truth, it is through knowledge men revive;Blessed are those whose ceaseless labors thrive.

When ignorance has left a man as dead,Kalila brings him life through what is read.

Within the monarch’s treasury there liesA book that teaches rulers to be wise.

It shows the road to knowledge and to rule,And lifts the ignorant from folly’s school.”

Barzvi rejoiced at what the sage made plain;Like wind, his labors passed, with all their pain.

He blessed the sage and hastened to the throne,And praised the Raja in a joyful tone:

“Live while Hind shall last beneath the sky.There is a book concealed from common eye.

O mighty Raja, there is, I am told,A book called Kalila within your hold.

It lies beneath the royal seal and ward,Within the monarch’s carefully guarded hoard.

It is a guide to knowledge and to rule,A book of counsel and a royal school.

Kalila is the herb in mystic speech;O king of Hind, now place it in my reach.

If I am not too troublesome, commandYour treasurer to place it in my hand.”

The Raja’s heart grew troubled at the word;Upon his throne his heavy sigh was heard.

He answered Barzvi, “None has sought this thingIn former days from any Indian king.

Yet if Anooshirvan asked from meMy body or my soul, both would be free.

No treasure would I keep from his demand,Whether concealed or known throughout the land.

But you shall read it only in my sight,And set no words upon a page to write.

Let none learn what you write within your heart;Read here before me till you know each part.”

Barzvi replied, “O king, your words have shownThe very wish that I would call my own.”

The Raja’s minister brought Kalila out;Barzvi perused it, banishing all doubt.

As each new chapter opened to his view,He spent the day learning its order true.

He read no more than memory could retain,And kept each passage clear within his brain.

Each day he wrote a chapter out to sendIn secret to the Shah, his royal friend.

By this device, the Indian book was broughtTo Anooshirvan, who prized the lore it taught.

So Barzvi stayed there hale and deeply pleased,His ardent soul by streams of knowledge eased.

At last the answer to his letters came:“The Sea of Lore has reached us, clear in fame.”

He sought the Raja’s leave to take the roadBack to the Shah and to his own abode.

The Raja treated him with gracious care,And had an Indian robe prepared to wear:

Two precious armlets and two earrings bright,A jeweled torque fit for a monarch’s sight,

An Indian turban and an Indian bladeOf watered steel, magnificently made.

From Ghanooj Barzvi took the homeward road,With Indian learning as his precious load.

Returning to the court, he bowed his head,Then told the Shah all that the Raja said:

How knowledge had been found instead of herbs,And how its force the ignorant heart curbs.

The Shah replied, “O man of noble soul,Kalila has restored and made me whole.

Take from my treasurer the key in hand,And choose whatever wealth your deeds demand.”

The sage went to the treasury and stayed,Yet little claim upon its riches laid.

Gold coins and jewels lay on left and right,Yet he chose only one robe rich and bright.

He put that costly royal raiment on,And sought the court from which he had withdrawn.

When he approached the throne, he kissed the floor,And praised the king whose justice all adore.

The monarch said, “O man of toils and care,Why take so little, leaving riches spare?

Why bring no gold or jewels from my hoard?Your labors surely merit more reward.”

Barzvi replied, “O king whose crown is higherThan sun and moon in their celestial fire,

The man who wears a robe the monarch gaveHas found the fortune that all men would crave.

When people see my humble self arrayedIn royal robes, my foes will shrink afraid.

My friends’ cheeks will keep their bloom and light;Their hearts will glow, their faces still be bright.

Yet there is one request I make of you,To keep alive the trials I went through.

Let Bozorgmehr, when copying this great book,Upon Barzvi’s endeavors kindly look.

Let him recount my deeds in Chapter One,By order of the Shah, when all is done,

So when I die, my journey and my painWill not be lost among the learned train.”

“A great request,” the Shah replied, “yet youHave asked with modesty, as it is due.

Yet still your labor has deserved as much,Though rank alone might not be fit for such.”

Then to Bozorgmehr came the Shah’s command:“Let this request be granted by your hand.”

So when the pen was fashioned from the reed,The scribe wrote Barzvi’s name and worthy deed.

In Khosrow’s letters, Pahlavi aloneWas used to make the royal message known.

They kept the book with honor in the store;None looked with scorn upon its treasured lore.

In Pahlavi the book was guarded long,Untouched by alien hand, and safe from wrong,

Until the house of Abbas rose, and thenMen turned the work to Arab speech again.

To Rudaghi the chapters were rehearsed,Till all the tales were harmonized and versed.

King Nasr then had it set in Dari speech,Its cultivated wisdom fit to teach.

King Nasr heard it, eager to be wise,And wisdom showed the road before his eyes.

He wished by every means the world might holdHis name among its lasting records told.

They brought interpreters to read each wordTo Rudaghi, who shaped the prose he heard.

The poet joined its scattered words in rhyme,And strung its shining pearls in measured time.

For those who understand, its words are bright;For those who do not, pardon is their right.

The scattered words were gathered, joined, and whole;Their verses filled the mind and stirred the soul.

Long life to Mahmud; may his name endure,With time and earth beneath his rule secure.

How glad the heart, if men of evil waysReceived less bounty in Shah Mahmud’s days.

Yet let no grief for this disturb your mind;Few days remain; leave such regrets behind.

Each day brings alternations, loss and gain,At times assistance, then at times new pain.

But neither joy nor sorrow long can stay;Both pass like travelers upon their way.

Since life has journeyed far toward its end,Abandon hope that earthly days extend.