New Naqqali👶👑🪑👥🗣️🙏⚖️🛡️👴🤝10 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefShiruyeh’s young son Ardeshir takes the throne and speaks to the assembled chiefs, promising to worship God, keep the former Shahs’ justice and Faith, raise the loyal and cut down oppressors, and naming Pirooz Khosrow to command the army. His hearers are quieted.
Now I must tell of young ’s reign,And once more make the tale of kingship plain.
At seven years the child assumed the throne;Before him Iran’s gathered grandees shone.
The famed old chiefs would hear the Shah’s intent,And learn what rule his new-made kingship meant.
Then young Ardeshir spoke before the crowd:“Well-tested warriors, valiant and proud,
Whoever sits upon the royal throneMust worship God and make skilled speech his own.
We will pursue the former Shahs’ high way,Their and Faith, their justice day by day.
May we remember God, the Source of good,And rule with justice as a monarch should.
I will raise those who serve and cast down lowOppressors, making guilty lifeblood flow.
Khosrow shall rule as guide and stay,To steer our troops and council day by day.
With such a , let Iran cheer,And keep your hearts and spirits free of fear.”
His words brought many listeners repose;Contentment in their quiet hearts arose.
👶👑👤✉️🤫🏰🎭👴👶⛓️🤐💀👑😢14 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefGuraz, who helped bring Khosrow Parviz down, writes from Rum denouncing the new Shah and suborns Pirooz Khosrow, the court’s minister and treasurer. At a night drinking party Pirooz clears the hall and smothers the boy king Ardeshir, whose reign has lasted six months.
Then tidings reached , whose treacherous prideHad helped cast Khosrow and his crown aside.
From he sent a messenger to say:“’s crown lies trampled in the clay.
Let hell receive his soul, and let his tombBe overturned beneath that bitter doom.
Who ever saw a cypress proud and grandDestroyed by grass that scarcely marked the land?
, whom time could not outshine,Bestowed on me this lordly rank of mine.
I never swerved from what he bade me do,But served the ruler, steadfast, firm, and true.
Yet fate dethroned him; Fortune turned her face,And Heaven made the grave his dwelling place.
The sun and moon cut short his royal reign;His crown and throne he could no more retain.
They gave the crown to Khosrow’s faithless son,And brought Iran to shame by what was done.
When he too passed and took crown,The people all rejoiced in his renown.
If any share of Iran is my right,He shall not feel its breeze by day or night.
I did not know that wicked men had ledKhosrow to ruin through the words they spread.
I will not let a king like this one reign,Though all the age should kingless still remain.
His head is full of strife; his thoughts have strayed;Another army’s counsel is his aid.
Now I will come with armies in my train,With chiefs of Rum and Iran on the plain.
We then shall see who holds this lordly place,And favors schemes that bring such foul disgrace.
I will uproot him, root and branch and name,So he can make no further royal claim.”
He sent a runner with his message, sealed,To Iran’s army elders in the field.
To Khosrow now he sent a scroll,With altered plans to reach his darkened goal:
“The Fortune of is veiled by cloud;A world-seeker must gird himself, stand proud.
Devise a remedy; let thought make clearWhat plans may serve the task before us here.
Seek helpers from all quarters of the land,And sweep Ardeshir from royal command.
Then all your heart’s desires shall be fulfilled;Live safe and glad, with all your troubles stilled.
But if you let this hidden plot be known,You feed revenge’s blade with blood alone.
I shall lead Roman legions in array,Till darkness blots out all your light of day.
Weigh well my words; consider what I state,Lest Roman vengeance seal your bitter fate.”
When Pirooz Khosrow read Guraz’s scroll,He weighed that self-willed man’s intent and goal.
His heart grew dark; he pondered how to bringDestruction on that child of kings, his king.
The Shah would summon him from day to day,For he was learned and skilled in what to say.
As minister and treasurer, he heldThe Shah’s affairs, and in both posts excelled.
Then one dark night he climbed the royal stairAnd found bright wine and speech both smooth and fair.
Ardeshir sat within his royal hall,Attended by a few, and that was all.
When Pirooz Khosrow came before the throne,It seemed his head beyond the heavens shone.
He called for music; all the palace rangWith instruments and songs the minstrels sang.
At midnight, Pirooz drank a man of wine;The guests were drunk, their senses in decline.
He drove the bards and counselors away;He would allow no other men to stay.
He and the Shah remained alone inside;Then outrage rose where royal trust had died.
He clamped the royal mouth, cut off his breath,And held that tender throat in silent death.
Thus Ardeshir six months of kingship filled;By Pirooz’s treachery the Shah was killed.
👤🪖👑😠👥💰⚠️🏇🏹🎯🩸💀👥🏃👑❓16 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefGuraz marches on Tisfoon, crowns himself as Farayin, and empties Ardeshir’s treasury on his followers. His two sons argue whether gold or royal blood makes a king. Ormozd Shahran Guraz of Istakhr conspires with the nobles and shoots him in the back on a hunt.
The palace filled with swords and arrows then; Khosrow was joined by all those men.
Both heroes and new seekers after fameAnd power gave their aid to serve his aim.
Pirooz Khosrow sent a lengthy scroll;A camel courier bore it to its goal.
It went to ; when the envoy came,His somber soul grew bright as solar flame.
From those parts he led forth such armed arrayThat ant and gnat alike could find no way.
Like wind toward he drove his train;His soldiers’ hands were dark with blood and stain.
No soldier dared to speak, but bowed instead;Most people in that city dwelt in dread.
He set the crown upon his head;Whatever crossed his mind, said:
“Let me be king awhile, and take my seatUpon this throne, where joy and kingship meet.
Far better this than sixty years to spendIn service, bowed by toils that never end.
When I am gone, my son shall take my place,And wear the crown with confidence and grace.”
His elder son then spoke to him aside:“You wear the crown, and rule the country wide.
Do not feel safe; take thought for all your gold;Make firm the world you now are crowned to hold.
If any scion of the royal raceShould come, you will not long remain in place.”
The younger said, “You hold the royal crown,With troops and treasures, master of renown.
Yet one without a hoard must labor still;Treasure gives kingship force and royal will.
What forebear of , ’s son,Had worn the crown before his own was won?
He gave the world to three sons, blessed and bright,And found in justice all his heart’s delight.
With men and treasure keep your kingship’s might;No man is born possessing royal right.”
The younger son’s advice pleased him the best;He told the elder, “Let such folly rest.”
He set the royal muster in the halls,And summoned all the troops within the walls.
He scattered robes and gold in wanton sport,And squandered honors freely through the court.
Within two weeks, Shah ’s whole storeHeld not one shaft’s feather’s worth anymore.
When Guraz sought the garden for his wine,He brought but amber candles there to shine.
Eighty before him, eighty in the rear;His helpers followed close, all gathered near.
His basins shone in silver or in gold;The gold was gem-inlaid, a joy to behold.
He feasted through the watches of the night.The nobles’ hearts were dark with hate and spite.
By night, in drunken pride, his steps were bentThrough gardens; to the riding-ground he went.
In all Iran no friend remained to stay;The tide of Fortune turned the other way.
He lost all justice, wisdom, bounty, grace;An ignoble heart had taken honor’s place.
For gold he shut his eyes to wrong and right;For coins he would have sold the world outright.
He shed the blood of innocents at will,Then turned upon the troops in anger still.
The people cursed him; all desired his death,And met in secret, speaking under their breath.
, a horseman bold,From ’s city, famed in deeds of old,
The glory of the chieftains, spoke one nightIn secret to the men of Iran’s might:
“O chiefs, Farayin’s tyranny grows severe;He scorns Iran’s great lords and feels no fear.
Why have your hearts grown narrow, courage small?Through him all eyes must weep, all hearts turn gall.
Is no physician to be found for pain?Must this disease of kingship still remain?
No Kayanian, nor of ’s race,Why serve him, girded, to your own disgrace?
Either your hearts have fled out of your breasts,Or courage fails you in the hour that tests.”
The troops replied, “Since none of worth was left,The throne of fitting rulers stood bereft.
None thinks to vie with him for royal fame,Or turn against this man of tainted name.
Tell us from all the stores of lore you knowHow we may bring this hot-brained Shah down low.
How shall Iran be freed from such a one,Whose thought and word and deed no good have done?
May no good blessing reach him.” Then the chiefReplied, “Iran has borne him long in grief.
If you will do me no harm, stand for right,And act as warriors, then by God’s might,
I shall cast him from horseback to the dust.”They answered, “In your purpose we will trust.
May no harm touch you; all the troops todayStand as your shields and helpers in the fray.
If evil falls from this, we stand with you.”He heard and knew what valiant men could do.
Proud Ormozd sought the tyrant to overthrow,And strike for royal blood this mortal blow.
One day the monarch ordered forth the train,And rode out from the city to the plain.
He went to hunt, and with him rode a bandOf Iranian lords and warriors of the land.
He spurred his steed, as though his head were flame,Like , famed by its fiery name.
The s rode with him in the chase,And hunted, urging on their steeds apace.
When they turned back toward the city gate,Shahran Guraz resolved to seal his fate.
He chose a shaft from out his quiver’s store,Straight, steel-tipped, fit to drink a tyrant’s gore.
He spurred his black steed while the watching bandBeheld the bow he carried in his hand.
He raised the bow to breast and head in play,And nocked a shaft as though in sport that day.
He drew until the point was hidden tight,Then loosed his thumb and let the shaft take flight.
The arrow struck the monarch in the back;His loosened fingers let the whip fall slack.
The shaft sank to its feathers, stained with red;Out through his navel thrust the iron head.
Headlong he fell; his blood began to flowIn streams upon the trampled earth below.
He writhed upon the dust and groaned in pain,And gave a bitter sigh upon the plain.
The soldiers drew their swords; a cloud of dustRose through the night as blade met savage thrust.
All night they plied their swords and blindly fought,Not knowing whom their swinging edges sought.
Each took from others in that darkened fight;Some earned a curse, and others praise that night.
Dawn’s yellow brocade spread; each mountain’s backSeemed like a leopard’s, mottled gold and black.
For fifty days alone his rule remained,Till blood and dust the usurper’s glory stained.
The mighty army scattered in dismay,Like sheep that see a wolf and flee away.
Long did they live without a king to reign;No claimant came the royal crown to gain.
They searched through every province for a sonOf royal blood, but of that line was none.
👸👑⚖️🕊️🎁💰👥🤝🤒💀😢11 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefPoorandokht takes the throne, promising to keep the nobles together, enrich the poor and drive out the foe. She has Pirooz Khosrow bound to an unbroken colt and dragged to death, rules mildly for six months, then sickens and dies.
was her name; when she ascended,To heal the realm her royal care extended.
They seated her upon the royal throne,And chiefs spread jewels where her glory shone.
She said, “I will not break this gathered band,Nor scatter those who now before me stand.
I will enrich the poor from royal store,That none need suffer hardship anymore.
May no one in this realm endure such pain;His grief is mine; beside him I remain.
From all our land, our foes shall be expelled;The customs of our kings shall be upheld.”
She sought for Khosrow; then there cameA trusty man with tidings of that name.
She chose renowned men from the ranks that day;They brought Pirooz to hear what she would say.
She cried, “Foul-hearted villain, face your fate;Receive the dark reward your crimes create.
Now you shall pay for all the wrong you sow;I shall make a stream of blood from your neck flow.”
She bade them lead a wild colt from its stall,That never yet had felt the saddle’s gall.
They bound him, firm as stone, upon its back,A noose about his neck that held no slack.
The untamed colt was led, with Pirooz bound,Into the open, on the riding-ground.
She sent some riders out across the course,Each with a strapped upon his horse.
The wild steed plunged and reared in frantic flight,And dashed the traitor down in all men’s sight.
His skin was torn; the blood began to flowOut of his body, seeping soft and slow.
Pirooz at last surrendered breath in pain,And died in shame upon that dreadful plain.
Why should the wrongdoer seek justice then?The harm he dealt returns to him again.
Poorandokht ruled the world with gentle hand;No harsh wind lifted dust across the land.
But when six months had run their measured course,Her life’s revolving circle lost its force.
She died, a week of sickness having known,And carried fair renown with her alone.
Such is the working of the turning sphere:All-powerful, while we are powerless here.
👸👑📜⚖️👥🤝⏳🤒💀🪑🚫11 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefAzarmidokht is crowned, pledges justice and the ancient way, and promises the gallows to anyone who breaks faith with her, Iranian, Arab or Roman. She fills the throne four months; the fifth brings her death, and the crown stands empty again.
Another lady, by name,Assumed the crown and rose to royal fame.
She sat upon the throne,And made the world’s dominion all her own.
Her first words were: “O sages, veterans all,Who know the world’s affairs, how fortunes fall,
We shall uphold the ancient law with pride,Till in the grave, on bricks, our heads abide.
To those who love me I shall be a stay,A lord who will sustain them, come what may.
But he who breaks my pledge forsakes the roadOf wisdom and rejects the rightful code;
I shall hang him, shamed, on the gallows high,Iranian, Arab, Roman; he shall die.”
Four months she filled the throne in royal state;The fifth brought ruin through the turns of fate.
With her, the realm lost virtue’s shielding light;Her star was dimmed, eclipsed in fortune’s night.
She died; the throne was left without a king,To those who wished her ill, a welcome thing.
The turning sphere makes hatred plainly knownToward those it nurtured once and called its own.
👨👑🙏⚖️👥⏳🗣️🧔👁️👸🗣️👑😠⛓️⚠️👑💀17 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefFarrokhzad is brought from Jahram and promises to protect the guiltless. A month later the slave Siyah Chashm, imprisoned for courting a serving maid and then pardoned, poisons his wine. He lingers seven days and dies, and the poet turns to spending while one lives.
From they called to reign,And raised his seat above the royal plain.
There with a pious heart, he first was heardTo praise his God, then spoke this royal word:
“A son am I of kings of honored name;I seek the world’s repose: that is my aim.
While I am Shah, no mischief-maker’s handShall rise to honor anywhere in the land.
Who from the heart pursues the rightful way,And works no mischief, I shall love each day.
As my pure soul, I hold such people dear,And harm no guiltless man through wrath or fear.”
The army blessed him: “May you long remain;May earth and time your presence still retain.”
Yet when his throne had lasted one short moon,His head and Fortune fell to dust too soon.
He had a slave, a cypress in his height,Fair, vigorous, pleasing to the outward sight.
May turning Heaven never bring to birthAnother upon this earth.
One day a serving maid came into view;Within his heart a love for her then grew.
He sent to say, “Meet me in such a place;Great gifts shall crown your life with jeweled grace.
I will adorn your crown with gems and gold.”She answered nothing, keeping silence cold.
She went and told the matter to the king;Farrokhzad burned at hearing such a thing.
His anger burned; his sorrow ran so deepThat he could neither take his food nor sleep.
He fettered Siyah Chashm by both his feet,And cast him into prison’s harsh retreat.
When time had passed, the just Shah’s heart grew kind;The many pleas for mercy swayed his mind.
He freed the slave, who served him as of old,But now the love he once had felt ran cold.
The king enjoyed his little share of rest;Into his wine the slave his poison pressed.
The monarch drank, then withered day by day;For one full week in agony he lay.
The kingship neared its end in dark dismay,While eager foes appeared from every way.
Such are the ways of time that turns the sphere;Consider what your share may be while here.
Eat what you have; trust not tomorrow’s gain,For what today bestows may not remain.
It takes from you and gives to someone new;Another wears the crown once worn by you.
Enjoy your wealth, and give, and do not keepYour labor’s fruit for enemies to reap.
When once your day has passed, your hoarded gainBecomes no more than wind upon the plain.
👑💀👦👑🪑👥🗣️🧬✨⚖️🤝👥🎉⏳🌪️15 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefYazdegard is crowned in Sapandarmad on the day of Ard. A weary, unnamed voice laments that the spheres spare nobody, naming Yazdegard himself; the young Shah then claims Anooshirvan’s blood and sets fame above desire. Sixteen years of peace pass.
When had passed from crown and throne,Then received it as his own.
In , on the day of ,The crown was set upon young Yazdegard.
What said that man, brave, eloquent, and wise,Yet weary of the world beneath the skies?
“Would that my mother had not given birth,Nor Heaven turned above my life on earth.
Between two globes, in this constricted round,No course but silence can for me be found.
The days of greatness and the days of needSoon cease for all, whatever men may heed.
Time is not ours; look well and you will see;Contend not with it, small as you may be.
So spread the board, and drain the brimming cup;Let sorrow’s bitter speech be gathered up.
Though Heaven’s wheel should bear your royal weight,A brick will be your pillow soon or late.
Let not your heart be troubled overmuch,Nor trust high Heaven or its shifting touch.
With lion and with elephant it plays,Beyond all need, indifferent to their ways.
It will outlast you while the ages run;Be not puffed up by life beneath the sun.
You cannot better in fame,Nor equal Parviz with his throne and name.
Look deeply: see what seven spheres on highDid to young Yazdegard beneath the sky.”
When Yazdegard upon the throne was placed,The crown of kings his youthful forehead graced.
He said, “From my line descends,And to its glory bends.
From sire to sire, the crown is mine to wear;The Sun and Virgo, Pisces, are my share.
I shall advance the great and do no wrongTo lesser men who in my realm belong.
I shall seek greatness, wisdom, manly might,And war’s fierce ardor in the thick of fight.
For strength and Fortune stay with none at all,All treasure, kingship, crown, and throne must fall.
Fame will abide forever, not desire;Cast pleasure off, and raise your honor higher.
By fame a man shall live beyond his breath,Though his body lies in the dust of death.”
The chiefs applauded him with one accord,And hailed him as the earth’s acknowledged lord.
For sixteen years his destined course was sped,While turning stars brought trials overhead.
He ruled in peace and justice through the land;All Iran gladly lived beneath his hand.
👑📨⚔️🪖👥🛡️👴🧠🌌🔮😟✍️📜📨👨👦😢🙏⚔️⚰️⚠️20 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefUmar sends Sa’ad Wakkas against Iran, and Rostam son of Ormozd takes command. At Kadisiya his astrolabe tells him the war is lost. He writes to his brother foretelling his own death, the fall of the House of Sasan, and four centuries in which nothing of his people will count.
sent Sa’ad to the fray,With troops to fight the Shah in full array.
When heard what the foe had done,He gathered troops from every side as one.
Then ’s son received the full command;His name was , famed throughout the land.
A wary warrior, wise in high estate,He read the stars and weighed the strokes of fate.
The Mobad listened closely to his word,Attentive to the wisdom that he heard.
With battle-tested chiefs he took his stand;For thirty months he stalled in that wide land.
At they pursued the fight,But Rostam read the heavens’ altered light.
He said, “This war can bring no victory’s glow;The kings’ stream does not through this channel flow.”
He took his astrolabe to read the day;Then held his head, foreseeing dark dismay.
That day’s dark omen spoke of grief and woe;He wrote his brother what the stars would show.
He praised the God who shapes both good and ill,Whose hand directs the turns of Fortune still.
“The searcher, watching Heaven wheel about,May find his searching heart beset by doubt.
I am the guiltiest man beneath the sky,For in the grip of I lie.
This house is empty now of royal might;No time for triumph or for glory’s light.
From Heaven’s fourth height the Sun looks downward still,Foretelling that this war will bring us ill.
Both Mars and Venus threaten us with woe;No man escapes what Heaven’s signs foreshow.
Mercury stands with Saturn face to face;In Gemini has Mercury its place.
A mighty event approaches; in my breastMy heart is tired of life and longs for rest.
I see what is to come, yet choose to sealMy lips, and what is coming not reveal.
I wept for Iran’s people, grief on grief;And burned for ’s House beyond relief.
Woe for the head, crown, justice, and the throne,For greatness, , and Fortune overthrown.
Hereafter Arabs bring defeat and shame;The stars turn hostile to Iran’s great name.
For four full centuries none of our raceWill count for anything in any place.
An envoy came from them to speak his mind;In council, varied views were then outlined.
They said, ‘We will share with your Shah the landFrom Kadisiya to the river’s strand.
We will open a road to town for trade,Where purchases and sales can both be made.
We ask no more; we will bear tribute’s weight,Nor seek the warriors’ crowns or royal state.
We will obey the king of kings in all,And give him hostages at any call.’
Such is their speech; their deeds have yet to show;But still the stars foretell our people’s woe.
Long will the strife be; lions fierce and boldWill fall, a hundred at a time, struck cold.
The chiefs who share my battle all rejectThe terms our foes would have our side respect.
Tabari and Armani fightThe creed of Ahriman with all their might.
and all these noble bandsBear clubs and heavy gorzes in their hands.
They heed no offer from our foes, but cry,‘Who are these haughty men beneath the sky?
What seek they here in Iran’s fields and ways,And in through troubled days?
For land and road, whatever good or ill,The and sword must take them by our will.
We will exert ourselves with manly might,And make their world grow cramped and dark as night.’
None knows the turning Heaven’s secret thought,Or how its face against our line is brought.
When you have read, let reason be your guide;Arrange your plans with nobles at your side.
Collect your wealth, attendants, clothes, and steeds;Make ready all that such a journey needs.
To take your way,Where mighty, freeborn men have made their stay.
Whatever herds of horses you command,Send to ’s treasurer’s hand.
If troops from or Iran seek aid,Protect them; lodge them safely in your shade.
Receive and clothe them; show them love and grace,Considering Heaven’s altered, hostile face.
For it brings joy and terror to us all,It raises some and makes the others fall.
Tell mother all: her eyes will not beholdThe face they rested on in days of old.
Greet her from me, and counsel her at lengthNot to be troubled past her inward strength.
If any bring ill news of me one day,Let not excessive grief bear you away.
Within this passing world, a man may strainTo gather treasure through his toil and pain.
But when his time to leave this world is due,Another tastes the fruits his labor grew.
At every hour worship God; departFrom love of worldly dust within your heart.
Our Fortune now is narrowed; nevermoreWill Yazdegard behold me at his door.
You and our household, all of you, uniteIn prayer and praise to God through darkest night.
Strive, and be generous; let no food stayHeld for tomorrow from your meal today.
With this my army I endure the fight,Through grief and hardship born of Fortune’s spite.
I see no hope of rescue from this ill;May this sweet land of Iran prosper still.
When life grows narrow for the king, hold slightYour treasure, body, life in such a plight.
Of that great race, so honored and renowned,Only that exalted Shah remains yet crowned.
Be not remiss in toil; the Shah is allWe have to look to if our fortunes fall.
He is the House of Sasan’s final trace;No eye will see another of that race.
Woe for the head, crown, seal, and justice lost;The royal throne will to the winds be tossed.
Farewell; be free from harm, but ever standBefore the Shah with loyal heart and hand.
If evil touches him, stand in the fight;Give up your head beneath the sword’s sharp might.
When pulpits stand as equals to the throne,And ’s names are known,
Our long toils will be lost beneath the skies,And long the fall will be before the rise.
You will not see the throne, the crown, the state;The stars give Arabs all by force of fate.
As day succeeds to day, the years will bringA man of no desert to reign as king.
In somber black shall many walk arrayed,With tall felt caps and garments of brocade.
No throne, no golden boot, no crown will stay,No gems, no coronets, no flags’ display.
One man will labor; one enjoy the spoil;None will heed justice, bounty, right, or toil.
They will abandon truth and oaths, and prizeDeceit and faults as virtues in their eyes.
The fighting man on foot must make his way;The mounted man will boast and have his say.
The peasant warrior will lose his skill;High birth and worth will count for little still.
Men will rob one another, and not earn;No one a curse from blessing will discern.
The hidden will be worse than what is known;Their king will bear a heart as hard as stone.
The father will become his own son’s foe,And son will plot his father’s overthrow.
A worthless slave will wear the crown one day;High birth and majesty will pass away.
No loyalty in heart or speech will stay;Both soul and words alike will go astray.
Then Turk and Arab mix with Iran’s seed,And from that mingling comes a different breed:
Not , Turk, or Arab in those days;Their words will be like games that someone plays.
They will hide treasures in their garments’ fold,Then die; their foes will take their labors’ gold.
They will claim scholar’s and ascetic’s name,And use it to pursue their private aim.
Grief, toil, and bitterness will then prevail,As joy once graced ’s feast and tale.
No feast or joy, no striving or desire;Their schemes and traps are all that they require.
For silver, father hates his son; they wearCoarse wool, with curds their only daily fare.
They make their profit from another’s loss,And veil their greed beneath Faith’s gilded gloss.
No difference will remain in spring or snow;No wine at feasts will let the goblets glow.
When long this bitter age has had its way,None will regard the freeborn of that day.
They will shed blood for wealth they hope to gain;The great will see their days of power wane.
My heart is full of blood, my lips are blue;My mouth is dry, my face has yellowed too.
I, , must watch this darkened day;The Fortune fades away.
So faithless has revolving Heaven become,That it withdraws its love and leaves us numb.
My iron-piercing arrows strike in vainOn men who wear no and no chain.
My sword, which struck the lion’s neck before,And elephant’s, cuts Arab skin no more.
My knowledge brings me only loss and pain;I wish no thought of good or ill could reign.
The chiefs with me at Kadisiya stand,Hardy and hostile to the Arab band.
They think this field will fill with Arab blood,And earth will run like in a flood.
None knows the sky’s deep secret; none can seeHow long and bitter all this strife will be.
When Fortune leaves a race, what profit flowsFrom toil and battle, ranks and weaponed rows?
Prosper, my brother; may your care impartNew gladness to the Shah of Iran’s heart.
This Kadisiya is my grave; I knowMy armor is the shroud wherein I go.
My blood will be my headgear. Heaven’s waysAre secret; let no grief consume your days.
Keep both your eyes upon the Shah, and yieldYour very life for him upon the field.
For soon the day of Ahriman will rise,As hostile Heaven turns above our eyes.”
📜🐎🧭👤🤝🏕️👴🗣️⚖️👤📖☪️🗣️🧠👴😔📨📜🚫🤝⚔️21 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefRostam writes mocking Sa’ad’s poverty and cataloguing the Shah’s wealth; Sa’ad answers with the Oneness of God, the Koran and Paradise, and offers the crown for conversion. The envoy Shobae Moghireh sits in the dust, and Rostam sends back word that honorable death is better.
He sealed his letter, blessed the runner’s way,And charged him with the words that he should say:
“Take this to my own brother; let him hearWhat else is fitting, making matters clear.”
He sent a runner, like the thunder’s mightAnd lightning, straight to Sa’ad in rapid flight.
Upon white silk a scribe set down each line,A letter bright as sunlight’s splendid shine:
“From , ’s son, who wishes well,The world’s great , these words I tell.
To Sa’ad , who would seek a fight,And make his world grow narrow, void of light.
We still must fear who made the sky,The Holy One whose turning heavens fly,
Whose rule is justice, whose dominion love,Who holds the wheeling firmament above.
From Him, may blessings on our king descend,Whom crown and throne and royal ring commend;
The lord of sword, of diadem, and rein,Whose keeps bound fast in chain.
A hateful matter darkens all our way,This needless toil, this strife, this evil day.
Reply to me: what king do you obey?What customs, then, do all your troops display?
You naked chief, with all your soldiers bare,Whose rank and power do you hope to share?
On coarse, dry bread and water you remain;No steeds, no elephants, no baggage train.
Let life in Iran be enough for you;The crown and ring are someone else’s due.
He has the farr, the elephants, the gold,A Shah from kings renowned in days of old.
No king on earth can match his stature’s grace,No moon in Heaven rival his fair face.
At feasts, he parts his lips in smiles of light;His teeth gleam silver, shining clear and bright.
His gifts could buy the Arabs all outright,And still not dim the treasures in his sight.
Twelve thousand dogs and hawks and cheetahs, deckedWith bells and gold, wear earrings jewel-flecked.
In one whole year, the spearmen’s plain could findNot food enough to feed these beasts combined.
The hounds and cheetahs, hunting, eat still more;He counts the cost as nothing from his store.
No shame within your eyes has found a place;No reason, love, or reverence lends you grace.
With such a face, such birth, such traits and ways,Do you desire Iran’s throne in these days?
If power within your measure is your aim,And these are not mere words of empty claim,
Then send to us a man of noble speech,A wise, brave man whose words have force and reach,
That he may tell your purpose, and declareWho led you to the chair.
Then I will send a rider to the throne;Ask what you wish, and make your wishes known.
But do not choose so great a king to fight;Its end will bring you sorrow, not delight.
’s just rule made old men young;From that great king this sovereign’s line has sprung.
His fathers all were Shahs; he too is crowned;No age recalls his peer the world around.
Do not fill earth with curses on your head;Hold to your faith and custom’s path instead.
No just and cultured man would seek the throneWithout Kayanian blood to call his own.
Take counsel from this letter, clear and stern,And let your eyes and ears to wisdom turn.”
The sealed words went to then,A high-born lord among Iran’s great men.
To Sa’ad, son of Wakkas, then he rode,With Iranian nobles on the road.
Their souls were bright; their armor shone with gold,And silver gleamed upon each warrior bold.
With golden belts and splendor for the field,They came, each with a bright and golden shield.
When Sa’ad heard, he came to meet the band,With troops like dust advancing through the land.
They lodged the envoy; Sa’ad asked him thenAbout his welfare and the fighting men.
He asked of Shah and chief, of troop positions,The watchful lord, his lands and their conditions.
He spread his cloak for Pirooz, then he said:“With sword and spear as mates, our lives are led.
Brave men do not discuss brocade or gold,Nor silver, feasts, or sleep when hearts are bold.”
Then Pirooz placed the letter in his hand,And spoke the words that Rostam for him planned.
Sa’ad heard, read, and marveled at its tone;In Arabic, both good and ill were shown.
He spoke of jinn and men, and what was toldBy that Hashimite Prophet, firm and bold;
Of God’s pure Oneness, of the Koran’s word,Of promise, threat, and help from Heaven conferred;
Of customs new, of pitch and searing fire,Of bitter cold, and bliss men might desire;
Of Paradise, with streams of milk and wine,Of s, camphor, gardens bright and fine;
Of honey, bubbling springs, and Heaven’s trees,Of joy that moves through everlasting ease.
He wrote: “If this true Faith the Shah receives,He rules both worlds in joy, if he believes.
He keeps the crown, the earrings, and the throne,With lasting beauty as his royal own.
pleads his pardon, stands between;His form is like distilled rosewater, clean.
With Paradise the prize your deeds may gain,Sow no more hatred in the beds of pain.
’s person and this spacious earth,Its gardens, riding grounds, and palace mirth,
Its halls and thrones and feasts, I would not careTo purchase for one single houri’s hair.
Within this mortal world your eyes are dazedBy treasure, crowns, and ivory thrones upraised.
You trust your ivory throne and royal might,Your hawks and cheetahs, crown and signet bright.
This world is worth no draft of water cold;Why let your heart be pained by all you hold?
Whoever comes against me in the fightFinds Hell, a narrow grave, no other sight.
Believe, and Paradise will be your stay;Consider now which course you choose today.”
Sa’ad set on the sheet his seal in place,And praised Mohammad’s name with solemn grace.
Then said, “Let me be sentTo Rostam.” On that embassy he went.
An Iranian noble came along the way,And to the Pahlevan had this to say:
“An aged envoy, weak of frame, is here,Without a horse or proper battle gear.
About his neck there hangs a slender blade;The tears within his shirt are plain displayed.”
When Rostam heard, he had a rich tent made;Its walls were hung with costly silk brocade.
They spread a Chinese carpet shot with gold;Like ants and locusts swarmed the soldiers bold.
A golden seat was set above the throng;The army’s Pahlevan sat, waiting long.
Then sixty men of Iran held their place,Battlefield lions, men of iron grace,
In gold boots, violet robes with gold worked through,With torques and earrings flashing bright to view.
The royal tent was dressed in bright array;Then Shobae Moghireh came along the way.
He would not tread upon the cloth outspread,But took the humble path of dust instead.
His scimitar he used just like a cane,Nor looked at lord or captain of the train.
He sat upon the dust and looked at none,Not even at their chief, Ormozd’s son.
Then Rostam said, “May joy attend your soul,And knowledge make your mortal body whole.”
Shobae said, “Accept the Faith as true,And peace and safety shall belong to you.”
When Rostam heard this speech, his brows grew grim;His face turned yellow as the words struck him.
He took the letter, gave it to be read,And answered all the words the reader said:
“Say this to Sa’ad: you are no king by right,Nor one who should aspire to royal height.
My darkened Fortune to your eyes was shown;Your heart then longed to claim my royal throne.
The wise do not hold speech as something slight;In this affair you lack discerning sight.
If Sa’ad bore the crown of ’s race,He would be easy, feast or fight, to face.
But stars are faithless; this is sorrow’s day:What can I say with Fortune gone astray?
This crooked, hunchbacked heaven will be stern,And harsh toward us as still its circles turn.
Go back in cheer; no place for words is foundUpon a day when battles rage around.
Tell him: to die with honor in the fightIs better than to live for foes’ delight.”
📣🪖🐎⚔️🏹🌪️👴🗡️🐎⬇️👥⚔️🩸👴💀🪖🏃👑😨19 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefThe armies fight three days in dust and thirst. Rostam and Sa’ad leave the ranks and meet alone; Rostam brings down Sa’ad’s horse, but a blow to the helm blinds him with his own blood and he is killed. The Iranians break and flee to the Shah.
, swift as winds that blow,Returned to Sa’ad from the Iranian foe.
And called his forces to array.The horns rang out to send them to the fray.
Like surging seas the troops began to ride;Dust rose, and battle thundered far and wide.
The din could deafen even keenest ears,As troops advanced with lances, swords, and spears.
Shobae told Sa’ad with thunder’s might;Sa’ad bade all his troops prepare to fight.
The armies met, feet planted in the ground;Each held its place amid the battle’s sound.
Bright spearheads flashed through dust that veiled their sight,Like fiery stars that burn across the night.
The spears struck helms and failed beneath the strain;Three days the armies battled on the plain.
Then water grew scarce in the long-drawn fray;Their heavy armor on the warriors lay.
With burdened souls, the fighters lost their might;Thirst stopped both men and horses in the fight.
Rostam’s lips dried like dust upon the plain,His tongue was split with thirst and bitter pain.
Both men and horses fed on moistened clay,So hard the battle pressed them on that day.
Then Rostam looked across the field ahead,And saw the leaders of his army dead.
Then Sa’ad’s shout and Rostam’s roar were heard,And through the shaken field the armies stirred.
Each left his army’s center and withdrew,And from the crowded field apart they drew.
They reached the shadow of a rocky height,And there the chieftains joined in single fight.
There Rostam roared like thunder in the sky,And made his blade at Sa’ad’s charger fly.
He struck the charger’s head with such great forceThat Sa’ad fell, flung from his crashing horse.
Then Rostam raised his sharpened blade to showThe day of Doom to his unhorsed foe.
He meant to strike off Sa’ad’s head, but thenThe dust obscured the sight of both the men.
Then Rostam left his charger’s saddle-seat,And stood beside his charger on his feet.
He bound the courser’s rein about his waist,While blinding desert dust his eyes embraced.
Then Sa’ad rushed to strike him in that place,And struck his helm; blood streamed across his face.
As blood obscured his sight, the Arab’s powerPrevailed against him in that desperate hour.
His next blow struck the chest and neck instead,And cast the mighty down dead.
No man in either army knew the placeWhere dust had veiled the rivals face to face.
The army sought its chief on every side,And reached the field where he had fought and died.
They saw him from afar in dust and gore,And sword wounds, head to foot, his body bore.
They fled, and many chiefs were slain that day;From thirst, men died on horseback on the way.
The world’s allotted measure now was filledWith kings; survivors saw the bodies stilled.
They hastened toward the Shah, and in their frightThey rode without a pause in headlong flight.
At Baghdad was staying then;Around him gathered all the fleeing men.
From , now came,His eyes in tears, his heart with wrath aflame.
He entered and charged; no spearman’s shieldCould bear his onslaught; all were forced to yield.
Then out of Baghdad marched the armed array,To seek upon the plain another fray.
⚔️🩸🪖🏃👑😢👴🗣️🧠⚠️🗺️📨👥🧭🏇🌍↩️👑🏙️19 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefFarrokhzad urges the Shah to rebuild his strength in Tabaristan. Yazdegard refuses to abandon his people, then chooses Khorasan, counting on the Turks, a marriage into Faghfoor’s house, and Mahwi of Marv, whom he raised from nothing. Farrokhzad warns that base stock never changes.
Dust rose upon the plain above the men;Defeat befell Iran’s troops once again.
When returned before the throne,His dust-stained and his grief were shown.
He left his horse and bowed with formal grace,With bloodshot eyes and anguish on his face.
He said to , “Why weep this way?Will tears preserve the crown from dark decay?
You are the last of the seed,Left fit to wear the crown in time of need.
A hundred thousand foes, and you but one;How can a war against such odds be won?
Go now beneath ’s protecting shade;There loyal men will gather to your aid.
Like , go forth from there and climb;You are still young; a new task waits its time.”
The king of kings gave ear to what was said;New counsels rose and moved within his head.
The next day, he sat on the royal throne,And wore the Kayanian crown that was his own.
He called the sages, nobles, those who knewThe ancient lore, and shrewd too.
He said, “What counsel seems most fitting here?What ancient precedents in thought appear?
Farrokhzad tells me: ‘Leave this place and go;Take all your followers where Narvan’s trees grow.
The folk of serve you, one and all;The men of answer to your call.
And when your troops are gathered in your sight,Return with power to face the Arabs’ might.’
You chosen chiefs, is this the course preferred?”“It is the way,” came their united word.
The king replied, “This course is not my way;Another purpose rules my heart today.
Shall I abandon Iran’s chiefs and land,Our troops, the crown and throne at our command?
Shall I preserve my life and watch them fall?That is not greatness, manhood, sense at all.
To fight the foe is better than disgrace;No shame should stain the face.
The leopard’s proverb warns us, clear and stern:When hardship comes, do not from battle turn.
As subjects owe obedience to their king,In good and ill, through every changing thing,
So must a king not leave his realm in pain,And seek out treasure while his people strain.”
The great men blessed him: “Such a course displaysThe faithful kings’ accustomed, righteous ways.
Declare your will, your wishes, and your need;What pledge will you make with us for the deed?”
The Shah replied, “These thoughts my heart impair;They leave it ruined by the weight of care.
Our better course is toward ’s ground,Where we may rest beyond the battle’s sound.
For there we have strong troops in great array,And valiant s to guard the way.
The Turkish chiefs and will raiseTheir voices when they come to offer praise.
I will make firmer still that bond secureBy wedding ’s daughter, bright and pure.
A mighty force will come to give us aid,Turanian lords with swords and ranks arrayed.
There guards the frontier with his sword,With armed retainers and a golden hoard.
He served our shepherds, steward in their band,Raised by our field-wardens’ supporting hand.
I raised him for the words he knew to say,And for his eagerness to join the fray.
I raised him from obscurity to fame,And gave the worthless man a noble name.
I gave him border rule and men to guide,With lands and elephants that I supplied.
Though low in birth and standing he may be,He owes his rise within my court to me.
A Mobad made this ancient warning plain:‘Beware the man you hurt with needless pain;
But trust the one your kindness raised on high,From nothing to the heights of Heaven’s sky.’
I never wronged him, not in deed or thought;He will avenge me as his honor ought.”
But Farrokhzad struck both his hands and cried,“O God-fearing Shah, cast trust aside.
Be not too sure of men of evil grain;Another proverb makes this matter plain:
Though spells and toil would change what God has made,No key unlocks the bond His hand has laid.
A base-born root yields poison in the end;On low-born upstarts let no king depend.”
The Shah replied, “O lion, fierce in fight,I lose nothing to learn if I am right.”
He stayed that night; and when the morning shone,The nobles left Baghdad with many a groan.
He set his face toward Khorasan’s plain,And counted little all the road and pain.
The chieftains of Iran, with sorrow bowed,Accompanied their Shah among the crowd.
They blessed him, saying, “May the earth and timeStill know your royal presence in its prime.”
The army wailed with grief to see him go;Landholders, high-born men, came in their woe.
“If we should lose our Shah, how can the heartFind joy in home or country set apart?
We leave our homes, our children, and our gold,To share your burdens on the road you hold.
Without your throne our lives are nothing worth;May Fortune never cast you from the earth.
We all will go and wait for Time to showWhat games it plays amid the battle’s flow.”
Then eloquent Iranians, face to ground,Spoke from the dust, with grief in every sound:
“We left our thriving homes and thought to findThe world beneath your shelter, safe and kind.
Now, broken-hearted, to the Khan we go;From Iran toward Turan, weighed down with woe.”
With tear-filled eyes, the Shah addressed the throng:“Praise God, and let His praise grow ever strong.
I may yet see you all again, and seeThe Arabs’ fury lessen by degree.
You nurtured me, my father’s gift of care;I would not have you in my hardship share.
Do not share my distress; let Heaven showTo whom its favor now will turn and flow.
Resign yourselves to what its secrets weave;No man can flee the fate it will achieve.”
He told the merchants who had come from Chin:“Through Arabs, loss is all your trade will glean.
For now, within Iran you must not stay;Leave for a time, and take yourselves away.”
They parted, wailing, each upon his way;Then Farrokhzad led on the armed array.
He bade Iran’s tried veterans depart;He led the troops; the Shah came sick at heart.
By stages came the Shah to ; he soughtIn wine and music ease from anxious thought.
From Rey to , swift as wind, his wayHe took, and there, now sad, now glad, would stay.
From Gorgan toward the road to he went,His face was lined, his heart with sorrow rent.
👑😢✍️📜📨👴🏙️👨💀⚔️🪖🚩🛡️🙏14 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefThe Shah dictates a letter to Mahwi Suri, warden of Marv: Rostam is dead by Sa’ad’s hand, the enemy stands at the gate of Tisfoon, and Mahwi must gather his army for battle. The Shah adds that he is riding after the letter himself.
The Shah, intent on , wrote his command,To , warden of that land.
In rage and grief, with hope and tearful eyes,He called a scribe, experienced and wise.
He poured his heart out, then gave God the praise,The all-wise Lord who fosters all our days,
The Master of the circling Mars and sun,Who formed the ant and elephant, each one.
From nothing He made all by sovereign might,Unmatched in wisdom, self-sufficient light.
Then recounted each event:“Our kingship’s bloom has lost its hue and scent.
For died upon the battlefield,By Sa’ad’s hand, and sorrow will not yield.
Sa’ad, son of , has no noble birth,No land, no learning, and no joy on earth.
At ’s gate now his troops are spread;The meadowland and woodland lie ahead.
Prepare for battle with the force you lead;Unite your army in this single deed.
To you, brave lord, I urge my flying steed;Like wind I follow in this hour of need.”
👑✍️📜📨🏰👥🛡️🐘⚔️👴🤝🪖👑🧬🗣️🙏16 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefYazdegard writes to the frontier lords of Tus, recalling their loyalty under Bahram Chubin, citing Anooshirvan’s dream of the Arab flood, and setting out in detail the grain, honey, salt and naphtha to be stored in the mountain forts, with robes and silver for the workers.
He chose another envoy from the band,A clear-eyed man with counsel at command.
He also wrote to with grieving heart,His face grown pale beneath his sorrow’s dart.
He first gave praise to Him who judges all,Whose gifts of strength and skill and Fortune fall;
From Him come and triumph, crown and throne;The royal diadem is all His own.
From gnat’s small foot to eagle’s claw and flight,From elephant to fierce in might,
All creatures serve His will from birth to death,And none may live unless He grants it breath.
“This comes from Iran’s mighty ,Whose father was a king of high regard;
Victorious lord of Iran’s armed command,Protector of its creatures and its land.
His God-fearing forefathers earned their name,And thanked the stars for crown and royal fame.
They made earth prosper, and their light was shownIn signet, crown, and splendor of the throne.
To frontier lords in treasure, rank, and might,With farr and stature, just in deed and right;
In , in , and allOn ’s crags and , heed our call:
May God, the great Sustainer, guard from harmBoth us and you, secure from evil’s arm.
You chiefs have surely heard, for all men know,The honor that to noble men we show.
Our hearts are full of justice, love, and care,For men of birth and warriors everywhere.
We prize your noble house; its labors holdMore worth to kings than any hoard of gold.
When broke the king’s command,And rose against the crown that ruled the land,
You turned from spacious cities, parks, and halls,From gardens, grounds, and palaces’ high walls.
On meadows and high mountains, fearing harm,You built your homes beyond the world’s alarm.
If God Almighty grants me strength and grace,And Fortune turns once more toward our face,
I shall reward your service from my purse,And praise your ready aid in lasting verse.
You must have heard what stars have made us bear,From snake-eaters with ’s dark stare.
They lack all knowledge, shame, descent, and fame,And hold no throne or treasure in their name.
They seek to give the world to winds of dread;Treasure lies scattered; dust conceals the dead.
It is the turning of the lofty skyThat brings our kingship harm from realms on high.
These crow-like men, devoid of grace and fame,Have neither sense nor knowledge, honor, shame.
dreamed that this bright throneWould lose the lustrous glory it had known.
He saw a hundred thousand Arabs pourLike camels, wild, whose halters held no more.
They crossed the ; smoke arose on high,And climbed to Saturn in the darkened sky.
In Iran and in , no seedWas sown, no harvest gathered for their need.
They left no fabric of the land behind;No trace of what had been for men to find.
The Fire within its temple lost its light; and darkened into night.
The battlements above the royal hallWould tumble to its courtyard in their fall.
That dream is now fulfilled before our eyes,And Heaven’s favor turns from us and flies.
All those we honor most will suffer scorn;The base will rise where noble men were born.
Ill will be scattered, good concealed from sight,And harm will show itself in open light.
In every land a tyrant will appear,An ugly scourge to fill its folk with fear.
The signs of darkest night already show;The heavens soon will darken all below.
Our counselors and s agree;Their prudent minds have shown this course to me.
We turn our faces toward ’s side,To frontier lords, crown-seekers, eager-eyed.
We wait to see what turning time will sayTo this uncertain course we take today.
To Tus’s warden now we make our way,With drums and elephants in proud array.
And and I are of one skin;He is my friend and bound to me as kin.
At now he seeks the fight,And turns to meet the foe with all his might.
And , that faithful friend’s own son,Has come to court to say what must be done.
He spoke of fitness, service, and our need;I heard his words and gave them careful heed.
I heard from him the secrets of each height,The depths and caves that lie concealed from sight;
He showed what lay within his heart to view,And gave us counsel drawn from what he knew.
From here we sent out men on every side,To friends whose aid might help us stem the tide.
My battle force is far too vast to stayWithin these narrow holds from day to day.
He named Fort and heights that layToward along the mountain way;
And , too, he judged as fitTo hold the stores we would entrust to it.
We held a council of our chiefs, and weighedOur loss against our hope, in balance laid.
We then resolved to store the crown and throne,The seal and signet, all that is our own;
All garments brought from , Chin, and ,With Rum’s and ’s rich goods from every loom;
All that remains of what we have in hand,The clothes and carpets drawn from every land;
Gold goods and cloth, uncut, in forts shall stay,With all too cumbersome to bear away;
Provisions, too, and all the gear we needTo serve our wants and help our plans succeed.
Some forty thousand oxen draw the trainOf wagons bearing rice, our needed grain.
Twelve thousand ass-loads next of wheat shall go,Still in the ear, among the stores we stow.
A trusty Mobad brings supplies we need:Pistachios, millet, pomegranate seed.
Two thousand camel-loads of each we ask,With Bactrian camels laden for the task.
A thousand ox-cart loads of salt they send,To meet whatever course the stars intend.
Of dates a thousand loads, of sugar tooA thousand, weighed and counted, all are due.
Twelve thousand honey vessels, too, shall goInto the forts, as stores we there bestow.
Of salted meats, some forty thousand moreOur steward gathers for the fortress store.
Within two months, three hundred camel-loadsOf naphtha, black, shall come beneath the goads.
From Shamiran and Rada’s heights, a bandWill go with one Mobad, as we have planned,
To meet the elders, learned men of state,And frontier lords held eminent and great.
Let written lists record the fortress store;Account for all the goods that pass its door.
Give one account to him who guards our gold;The other let the gathered nobles hold.
On lofty mountains and the meadow ground,No harm from Turk or Arab shall be found.
Your help in these hard times will aid us much;These toils require every loyal touch.
Our minister, both skilled and wise in speech,Will charge our treasurer to give to each
Who labors for these stores at our behestFive Persian robes, in which he shall be dressed.
When toil is done, our treasure shall endowEach with a gold-wrought headband for his brow.
In these dark times, let forty coins be paidIn silver from the treasure for their aid.
One face bears God’s pure name, whom we revere,The source of all our hope and all our fear.
The other shows our face and royal crown;Our favor makes earth fruitful with renown.
At Nowruz and at Mehr, in bright array,Two mighty feasts their wealth and pomp display.
May all the world bless those whose hearts are kind,Who keep our royal diadem in mind.”
The Shah then sealed the letter with his hand,And sent it to the chiefs of his armed band.
🏇👥🥁🏙️👑👴🙇🤝🗣️🪖🧭↩️👴🎭🤒🏳️⚠️17 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefMahwi meets the Shah on the road with every show of reverence, kissing the ground. Farrokhzad entrusts the king to him and rides for Rey. As the days pass Mahwi’s loyalty ebbs, the shepherd’s son begins to want the throne, and he withdraws, feigning sickness.
A rider came, with royal words in hand,High-fortuned, seeking fame throughout the land.
The tabiras thundered down the royal road;Through to the army flowed.
Then heard, and came with mightTo meet the Shah, with spears and armor bright.
When royal Glory’s banner came in sight,With all the king’s great chiefs to left and right,
He swiftly left the saddle and his steed,And bowed before the Shah with reverent heed.
Across the burning dust he softly passed,While tears of reverence fell thick and fast.
He kissed the ground and long before him stayed;His army bowed, and all their homage paid.
They hailed the Shah and lowered every head,And his ranks before him spread.
With heart made glad, he met him face to face,Then counseled him at length within that place.
He spoke his heart: “This Shah of nameI place with you to guard his crown and fame.
Let not a breath of harm upon him fall,Nor make him owe you gratitude at all.
I must depart for ; I cannot sayWhen I shall see this crown some future day.
Against these Arab spearmen in the fray,Men strong as I have perished, swept away.
No horseman in the world matched ’s name;No sage had heard of one with equal fame.
Yet by a crow-head’s hand that hero died;So Fortune turned against us in its tide.
May God among the good let him remain,And give that black crow piercing arrows’ pain.”
Mahwi replied, “O of worth,The Shah is eye and soul to me on earth.
I now accept the charge you give to me:Your king, your very sky, my trust shall be.”
So Farrokhzad, brave son of , wentTo Rey, where he by royal command was sent.
The circling sky revolved from day to day,And love from Mahwi’s heart had ebbed away.
The shepherd craved the throne; his nature turned,And all his former ways of life he spurned.
He feigned an illness, kept himself apart,And plotted treason in his darkened heart.
👴✍️📜📨🪖⚔️👑🏃🐎🌪️🏠🌾🏚️👑😢👴👀❓📣19 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefMahwi brings Turkish troops from Samarkand against his own Shah and flees the field, leaving him ringed. Yazdegard fights, escapes, and hides in a mill beside the Zark. The miller offers barley bread and cress; the king asks for barsom, and the errand betrays him.
There was a of ’s line, by name, whom Fortune made to shine.
He dwelt within ’s storied land,With many kinsmen near on every hand.
Ill-starred , grown bold in evil will,Wrote him a letter, bent on darker ill:
“O prosperous scion of the warrior line,A strife has risen where your strength may shine.
The Shah is here at with all his force,With crown and throne and treasure in his course.
If you should come, his crown and head are yours,His throne and parasol, his treasured stores.
Recall the vengeance owed your ancient sires,And pay this unjust house what wrath requires.”
Bijan considered what the letter meant,And saw Mahwi on winning empire bent.
He turned and spoke to one in counsel wise:“What course should prudent men like us advise?
If I lead forth my troops to aid Mahwi,That act will bring destruction back to me.”
The minister replied, “O lion-heart,To go and aid him shames your noble part.
Command to march with troops instead,To help upon the field where blood is shed.
If ’s bidding takes you to the fight,A man of weight will hold your judgment light.”
Bijan replied, “It is well; I will not go;Barsam shall lead the force against the foe.”
He sent out Barsam with ten thousand strong,Brave horsemen, swordsmen, trained for battle long.
They rode to Marv to wage their bold campaign,In hope that Iran’s throne would be their gain.
That force from flew on its way,Like pheasants winging hard, with no delay.
They reached the town of Marv within a week;The tabiras replied to the cock’s shriek.
The Shah knew nothing of the ambush set,Nor that Mahwi Suri had spread the net.
The shouts arose; at dawn a horseman came,And spoke to in Mahwi’s name:
“Mahwi declares: ‘The Turks are gathered here;What bidding has the Shah for us to hear?
The Khan and ’s captain leads the horde;Its weight is more than earth can bear, my lord.’”
The Shah in rage donned , set to ride;The armies now approached from either side.
He ranged the center, left and right in line,Then all advanced beneath the battle sign.
Spear in his hand, he held the center ground,While clouds of dust obscured the world around.
He saw the Turks engage with heated breath,Unsheathed his sword, and moved like marching death.
He charged, an elephant in wrath and might;Earth surged like Nile beneath him in the fight.
He charged the Turkish ranks, but none would stayBehind their king to help him in the fray.
They turned their backs and left their king alone,Ringed round by horsemen, fighting on his own.
When Mahwi fled, the Shah knew treason’s art,And saw the secret plot in every part.
Mahwi had planned to leave him without aid,Yet still the Shah his warrior strength displayed.
He slew renowned men in the bitter fray,Then, helpless, turned his horse and fled away.
The blade was still within his hand,While many Turks pursued across the land.
He sped like lightning flashing from a cloud,And found a mill beyond the chasing crowd.
Beside the he left his weary steed,And hid within the mill in desperate need.
All the troops searched the stream with hue and cry,While turmoil filled the land beneath the sky.
His horse’s harness shone with gold; nearbyHis and gold-sheathed sword were left to lie.
The Turks cried loudly when they saw the gear,Excited by the signs that he was near.
He hid within a mill, a humble shed,Sat on dry grass, while horsemen past him sped.
Such is this faithless world, whose turns deceive:It crowns a man, then leaves him there to grieve.
His throne had once ascended to the sky;Now in a mill he sat, with none nearby.
Such poison far outweighed the sweetness past;The world’s brief joys are never made to last.
Why love this cheating house of transient breath,When tabiras now sound the march to death?
They bid you pack and leave; the grave’s dark groundMust be the only throne where you are crowned.
With empty mouth and tear-filled, sleepless eyes,The Shah remained there till the sun would rise.
At dawn the miller came along the track,And opened up, with grass upon his back.
The low-born man was Khosrow known by name,Poor, with no crown or treasure he could claim.
He lived by grinding at that mill alone;No other trade or livelihood was known.
He saw a man of cypress stature, bentUpon the dust, worn down with deep lament.
A kingly crown was set upon his head,And Chin’s bright brocade shone about him spread.
His eyes were like a stag’s; his chest and neckWere lion-formed for battle’s storm and wreck.
No eye could tire of looking on his frame;His boots and pearl-set sleeves with gold aflame.
Khosrow looked on, amazed, and called on God,Then spoke to him across the dusty sod:
“O sun-faced man, what road has brought you here,To rest where wheat and dust and hay appear?
Who are you, whom such form and embrace?The sky has never seen so fair a face.”
The Shah replied, “I am Iranian-born,In flight from Turan’s army, spent and worn.”
The miller, shamed, replied, “I have no friendExcept my poverty, which has no end.
Yet barley bread and river cress are mine;I bring them, should they suit a man so fine.
I own no more; a poor man knows this ill,And cries beneath the weight of hardship still.”
The Shah, from three days’ battle, had not slept,Nor found a feast while war its hold had kept.
He answered, “Bring your food, and bring to meThe twigs, as sacred rites decree.”
The miller set a woven tray of breadAnd greens before him; then for barsom sped.
He hurried to the chief of Zark to pleadFor barsom, sacred twigs to meet his need.
Mahwi had sent men searching every side,To find the place where Yazdegard might hide.
The chieftain asked him whom the twigs were for;The miller told him what he saw before:
“A warrior sits upon the grass,” he said,“Within my mill, a crown upon his head.
A cypress in his height, his face a star,With arched brows, mournful eyes, and kingly farr.
His mouth is full of sighs, his soul of pain;I set my humble fare before him plain.
Upon an old, worn tray I set his bread;He calls for barsom first, and then is fed.
With , the grace, he means to bless his fare;Well may you wonder at a man so rare.”
The chieftain said, “Go swiftly on your way;Tell Mahwi Suri what you had to say.”
He gave the miller to a trusty guide,Who brought him safely to Mahwi’s side.
Mahwi then asked, “For whom were twigs required?Speak truth, and tell me all that he desired.”
The trembling miller said, “My grass I bore;At dawn I reached the mill to work my chore.
I saw the sun itself! His eyes were bright,Two narcissus blooms, like a stag’s in fright.
His two dark tresses seemed the night grown deep,When two full watches pass and others sleep.
From him the mill was radiant as the day;His food was bread; his seat was withered hay.”
👴🗣️👑👀👴😨🐍🧠🤫👥🗣️⚖️🚫🗡️👦😠🧠🪤18 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefMahwi orders the miller to kill his guest. The Mobadan and nobles denounce him in turn — Radwi, Ormozd son of Kharrad, Shahruy, and Mehr-e-Nush, who recites seven murdered kings and the vengeance each brought. Mahwi listens until nightfall, then asks his son, who tells him to strike.
Who has not seen God’s should pause and hearThe miller’s words, which make that Glory clear.
“His crown is filled with flawless gems and bright;His Chin brocade shines out with radiant light.
He seems the spring when is here;No planted cypress ever was his peer.”
When pondered, in his heart he knew:“This man is ; the tale is true.”
He bade the miller, “Hasten, take his head;Delay, and you this instant shall be dead.
I will not leave one branch of all your race,But sweep your stock from every living place.”
The chiefs and nobles heard Mahwi’s command,And wrath arose through all that gathered band.
Their tongues were full of words, their eyes of tears,As horror moved among the mighty peers.
A learned Mobad, , wise in mind,Whose every thought by wisdom was refined,
Said, “Evil man, why has the made blindYour eyes, and left your judgment far behind?
Kingship and prophecy, in concord bright,Are two gems set within one ring of light.
To break the one casts soul and wisdom down,And tramples both beneath the broken crown.
Reflect upon your words, and then forbear;Trust in the Maker; do not doubt His care.
The first of all the harm will fall on you;You leave your sons a field of sorrow, too.
Its fruit is colocynth; its leaves will bearThe blood your sons must harvest in despair.
Soon you will see your head abased in shame,Your villainy exposed for all to blame.
God’s Faith is ruined by your evil aim;The crown and throne will curse your very name.”
Then , son of , rose that day,A pious elder walking virtue’s way.
Firm in the Faith, he said, “O cruel heart,Do not from God’s straight, stainless road depart.
I see your heart and sense obscured by night;Within your arms are thorns you hold so tight.
Though strong in limb, your mind is weak and dire;You seek the smoke that rises from the fire.
I see reproach await you here below,And after death, sharp travail, pain, and woe.
Your lifetime now will be a wretched one;Fire is your dwelling when your days are done.”
He sat; then rose to make reply:“Why does your boldness mount so rashly high?
In pride, against the king of kings you stand,Allied with Khan and , hand in hand.
Men found the sons of kings bereft of aid,Yet did not rush to slay them with the blade.
Spill not the blood of kings, though low your state;Till Resurrection, curses on you wait.”
He spoke, then sat in anguish, full of grief,His heart oppressed, his eyes without relief.
Then arose in bitter pain,And spoke to Mahwi in a forceful strain:
“O evil man, from evil stock descended,No foresight yours, no justice comprehended,
The fierce respects the royal vein;The leopard will not tear a monarch slain.
In love and nature, worse than beasts are you;Yet still the royal throne you would pursue.
You covet now the Shah’s imperial crown;Consider kings that fate has broken down.
When fell beneath ’s dark hand,How long the heavens wheeled above the land!
When Zahhak ruled the world and had his way, appeared upon the earth one day.
He fathered glorious in time,Who turned the world away from paths of crime.
You know what doom the tyrant Zahhak broughtUpon himself for all the ill he wrought.
Though he endured above a thousand years,The avenger came and answered all men’s tears.
Again, when , consumed by jealous greed,Against his brother planned the deed,
And slew the virtuous Iraj in hate,The heavens turned against him in his state.
Then arose from Iraj’s race,And broke those bonds and set things back in place.
Third, , born of the line,Bound up his waist, though not by glad design.
, by misled,Washed shame and honor from his heart and head.
He slew the young and rightful prince; from thenHe faced the hatred of the world of men.
From Siavash, then arose,And filled the earth with terror for his foes.
He split his grandfather with steel in two,And fear through every vengeful spirit flew.
The fourth avenged , whom slew,Who then was caught by vengeance, as was due.
For went forth in wrath to fight,And took swift vengeance with the sword’s full might.
The fifth recalls Esfandiyar, laid lowBy ’s hand, which dealt the fatal blow.
Revenge then came to Rostam and his land;, in turn, was struck by vengeance’s hand.
Remember ’s deeds, the dust he raisedFrom ’s great house, once highly praised.
The sixth recalls King , high in fame,Upon whose head that bitter ruin came.
Brave girded up his loins in might,To avenge King Pirooz and restore the right.
The seventh: ’s death, the vengeance due,When Parviz’s strength and royal power grew.
He dealt, as all the chronicles will show,With and , blow for blow.
The sky that turned above them turned the same;It kept its course through blood, revenge, and shame.
He struck them down in his day of strength and wrath;Revenge arrives and opens its own path.
One may not scorn the hour revenge will choose;That hour will come to you, and you will lose.
You will be punished for your evil thought;Your son will reap the poison you have brought.
Time never sleeps; turn from this wealth and gold,This tainted crown you covet now to hold.
You rise because the Div commands your heart,And from the road of holy God depart.
You seek a rank that does not fit your soul;The Div deceives and draws you toward that goal.
Burn not your soul and body in Hell-fire;Do not defile the crown through base desire.
Recall your scattered troops; let all draw near,And gather every warrior waiting here.
Go ask the Shah to pardon what you did,And let your plea be heard, no longer hid.
When you behold him, fealty renew;Then muster for the battle to ensue.
Be swift to seek forgiveness for your deed;Let wisdom guide your tongue in time of need.
If you refuse the counsel of the sage,In both worlds, infamy will be your wage.
The task that you should undertake today,Tomorrow falls to ruin through delay.
You wish the Shah more harm than Turks would do;How can such bitter malice dwell in you?
In battle, lion-like, he strikes with might;Upon the throne he shines with moonlike light.
He is the memory of grace;No other king can stand within his place.
From sire to sire, his fathers kept their trustIn wisdom, lovers of the right and just.
From down through ,Their wisdom kept the royal pathway clear.
Behind that royal line stands ’s name,A crowned world-ruler, rich in kingly fame.
The crown Kayanian God gave that race;Its kings were nobly born; farr lit each face.
Many have been your betters, yet not oneConceived such plans beneath the circling sun.
As for , in his day,Three hundred thousand horsemen fled away
On steeds in , at one shaft’s blow,And left the field to him in sudden woe.
Yet when his heart grew tired of Shahs by birth,The head of his bright Fortune fell to earth.
So , who sought the royal throne,Unfit to rule, made evil deeds his own,
Was miserably slain, his pride laid low;Not without cause did time decree it so.
Fear Him, who made the world we see,The crown, the throne, the signet of decree.
Do not disgrace yourself through reckless aim;These deeds will rise as witnesses of shame.
Know: he who speaks no truth before your faceIs foe to your soul, not friend in any case.
Now you are sick; we healers weep in grief,With bloody tears, and seek to bring relief.
You rank below the servants’ lowest slave;Let not your scheming heart a kingdom crave.
You wage your enmity with God on high;Through merit seek the throne beneath the sky.”
The shepherd-born had fixed his heart on power;Their counsel proved too bitter in that hour.
So has it always been; it is not new:Fortune’s derisions pass beyond our view.
It lifts one man into the lofty sky,And leaves another crushed and cast awry.
No love for one, no hate for one laid low:Who can the Maker’s hidden secret know?
The warned him until the sunHad set and moonrise showed the day was done.
Yet still their counsel failed to change his heart;It could not make his restlessness depart.
When night had come, he said, “O sages, go;Tonight I ask my son what he may know.
We will call from camp some twenty wise men here,To weigh this course and make its outcome clear.”
The prudent Mobad left; a man of lore,A Mobad from his army, came before.
He sat with trusted men and bade them hear:“What do you think? Should the Shah live, I fear,
Troops will collect to him from every side;My secret now is known both far and wide.
By now all men have heard what I intend;His enmity will bring me to my end.
No life or land will then remain to me,Nor goods upon this earth, as you may see.”
A wise man answered, “You should not have doneThis deed at all, nor ever have begun.
If Iran’s Shah, your foe, in wrath should burn,His hurtful enmity you then will learn.
But if you spill his blood upon the sod,His great avenger in this world is God.
On either hand lie grief and bitter pain;Consider what your course may lose or gain.”
His son replied, “O father, wise in thought,Be rid of him whose enmity you sought.”
👴🐍🪙🏚️👑🙏⚠️🗡️🩸👑💀😭👥🕯️⚰️🏛️🪦💔18 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefThe miller comes back weeping and stabs Yazdegard among the barley loaves. Mahwi’s riders strip the body and throw it into the Zark. Christian monks draw it from the water, build a garden tomb, and mourn the king in a long sequence of speeches.
“From and from Chin his troops will rise,And narrow all the world before our eyes.
Do not regard this as a trifling deed;While you hold power, press on till you succeed.
His robe could serve as banner to his band,And sweep you and your army from the land.”
Then shameless heard his son’s intent,And to the miller turned, on murder bent.
“Rise up,” he said, “take horsemen; ride, and killMy enemy: his blood I bid you spill.
If he escapes us now, he will be free;No hope remains to bring him back to me.”
The miller heard and knew not what to do;His heart was torn, his terror sharper grew.
On ’s night, in month, he spedBack to the mill, his spirit cold with dread.
When from Mahwi’s court gate he went away,His eyes were charged with tears and dark dismay.
Mahwi, his heart full, sent a mounted band,Swift as the smoke, to follow, spears in hand.
He charged them, “Keep his earrings free of stain,His crown and seal; let no blood-mark remain.
Keep clean the royal garments that he wore;Strip them from him when he shall breathe no more.”
With tearful eyes, his face grown pale and wan,The miller cursed the deed as he went on.
“Almighty Judge, above all turning time,Wring Mahwi’s heart and soul for this dark crime,
For this abhorred command,” he cried in shame,With mouth gone dry and tear-stained cheeks he came.
He reached the Shah and cautiously drew near,As one who whispers secrets in the ear.
Then with a dirk he struck his royal side;The Shah cried “Ah!” and fell as life’s flame died.
His head and crown fell heavily; the breadOf barley lay before the monarch, dead.
Who hopes to linger in this world of painHas little wisdom in his heart or brain.
No wisdom rules the turning azure sky;Its wrath and love perplex the searching eye.
Look not with love upon the world below,Nor from its deeds let love or anger grow.
The seven spheres, grown weary, now discardTheir guiltless ward: thus dies King .
No king has perished in a way so low,Nor horseman of his force endured such woe.
The horsemen sent by cursed Mahwi foundThe royal cypress fallen to the ground.
At rest from throne and battlefield he lay;They came to view his face in that dismay.
They stripped his violet robe, his torque and crown,His golden boots, then cast his body down.
Upon the earth he lay, his body red;A blade had gashed the royal side that bled.
Blood-matted, flung upon the dust he lay;The emissaries cursed Mahwi that day:
“May Mahwi lie like this upon the plain,All gory on the earth in grief and pain.”
They brought an armlet back, and gems agleam,Undrilled, to him who planned this deadly scheme.
They told Mahwi, “The exalted Shah is dead;From ease and warfare now his life has fled.”
He bade them cast the body from the millInto the water when the night was still.
Two cruel servants dragged the monarch’s frame,All bloody, with no reverence for his name.
They cast him into ’s revolving flow,Nor cared what worth the dead man had to show.
As daylight came and people filled the way,Two noble men approached where Yazdegard lay.
One austere monk approached the riverside,And saw the naked body in the tide.
He hurried from the bank in wild dismay,And told the monks his news without delay:
“The Shah lies naked in the waters dark,Within the turning whirlpool here at Zark.”
Then monks and prelates hastened from each side,To mourn the monarch lying in the tide.
A monk cried out in grief: “O noble man,O crown-possessor from the royal clan!
No eye has seen a monarch in this plight;Before Christ, none had heard of such a sight.
His wicked slave, that misbegotten hound,Has brought this shame upon the royal ground.
He fawned upon his lord, then brought him low;May Mahwi reap the curses that we sow.
Woe for the head and crown, the stature tall,For heart and wisdom, counsel; woe for all.
Woe for the royal line once held so dear,Woe for ’s last descendant here.
Woe for the throne, its lost renown,Its , its stature, the crown.
Woe for that young we revere,Strong, noble, wise, and royal without peer.
Go tell how, in the mill,They struck your moon-bright form and left it still.
Though you were king and held the crown’s command,They pierced your liver by a miller’s hand.
They stripped your noble body in the gloom,And flung you naked to the river’s doom.”
Four holy monks plunged in the swirling tide,And drew the youthful monarch to the side.
They drew Anooshirvan’s heir to land,While all the people mourned upon the strand.
They built his tomb within a garden fair,And raised its summit to the clouds in air.
They sealed his wound with gum and pitch and musk,With camphor bright against the mortal dusk.
In yellow brocade was his body dressed,With fine soft linen underneath for rest.
A lapis-blue cloth over him was spread;With wine and scents a prelate dressed his bed.
With musk and camphor, rosewater and wine,They dressed his resting place with fragrance fine.
When they had laid the royal cypress low,A noble , one of , spoke so:
“Reward lies hidden in the toil we know;Content, a man may leave this world below.”
Another said, “Though he could laugh, know this:He suffered here within this world’s abyss.
The sky deceives him with its fickle turns,And rise and fall along the way he learns.”
Another said, “Call no man wise or wholeWho serves his body and neglects his soul,
Who seeks out wealth despite his name’s disgrace,Nor fears the blame his soul must one day face.”
Another said, “The king’s lips now are sealed;No throne or crown to him will be revealed.
No seal, no court, no country can remain;Why spend such toil and time for empty gain?”
Another said, “Your words were wise and true;I have no praise to match the worth of you.
You planted in the grounds of ParadiseA cypress now beheld by spirit’s eyes.”
Another said, “God took your soul away,And left your flesh to mourners here today.
Hereby your soul receives its proper gain;Your murderer’s body enters grief and pain.
The Shah’s work now in Paradise is whole;His murderer takes the road that damns the soul.”
Another said, “Wise heir of Ardeshir,The harvest of your sowing now is clear.
You reap the crop you planted; clear and bright,The lamp of kingship sheds its royal light.”
Another said, “Though you are sleeping, king,Your spirit wakes beyond the mortal ring.
Your lips are mute; your spirit, with a groan,Went forth, and left your body still as stone.
Your body rests; your soul works on instead;Your foe shall hang upon the gallows, dead.
Your spirit speaks, although your lips are sealed;Your soul has flourished, though your flesh must yield.
Though from your hand the reins have slipped away,Your spirit still bears spears in battle’s day.”
Another said, “O famous warrior gone,Your deeds became the guides that led you on.
Your throne is Paradise, whose courts are vast;This faithless earth to other hands has passed.”
Another said, “Whoever struck you throughShall meet harsh days when Fate demands its due.”
The prelate said, “Your servants mourn today,And praise your holy soul as here we pray.
May this your tomb be bright with tulip light,Your shroud your plain and upland of delight.”
They spoke, then raised the coffin from the plain,And bore it to the tomb amid their pain.
Thus came the hapless Shah to rest at last;His toil, his throne, his crown; all now were past.
What shall we call the seven heavens’ deed:Justice, or vengeance on the Shah decreed?
👑🪦👴🐍🏳️👑💍📨👥🗣️🎭🪖🐎⚔️14 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefFerdowsi breaks off to curse a hailstorm that has ruined his own year, then returns. Mahwi kills the mourners and plunders the land, invents a story that the dying Shah gave him crown and signet, and seizes Khorasan; his captains know the tale is false.
If Heaven knows not vengeance, knows not right,No sage has brought an answer into light.
The man of faith spoke words obscure and bound;Within his speech no answer could be found.
If you have treasure, wise man, use its store;Let not your heart await one morning more.
Time counts our breaths; the world is passing by,And all our days beneath its motion fly.
While you still live, His gifts will never cease;The One who gave will give you fresh increase.
If what I earned could meet what I must spend,Then Fortune would be brother, kin, and friend.
This year the hail came like a deadly gale;For me, death would be better than that hail.
The lofty heavens shut away my storeOf fuel and wheat and sheep; I have no more.
Bring wine; our days are few and soon are gone;The world stays with no man, but passes on.
One came and told , “The Shah now liesConcealed beneath the dust from mortal eyes.
The prelates, priests, and monks of all came,With mourners of that land, to mourn his name.
The mourners all went wailing to the stream,And drew his body forth, once held supreme.
Within an orchard stood the tomb they made,Whose soaring summit rose above the glade.”
Then luckless Mahwi cried, “Was this our way?Was Iran kin to Rum before today?”
He sent to slay the men who built the tomb,And all who mourned him there, to share their doom.
They slew them, and they plundered all the land;Such was the wish that guided Mahwi’s hand.
He searched the world, but all his search was vain,And found no scion of the royal strain.
He held the Shah’s own signet and his crown,And longed to claim the throne and its renown.
He called his intimates and made it knownWhat purpose in his secret heart had grown.
He told his minister, a man grown wise,“The day of shame and battle meets our eyes.
I have no treasure, lineage, or fame;My head may fly upon the winds of shame.
The name of is on the seal;They will not bow before my sword of steel.
Throughout Iran, the towns obeyed his throne;Their service and allegiance were his own.
The sages do not hail me as their king;The troops place no reliance on my ring.
My plots were meant to turn another way;Why did I spill the king’s blood on that day?
All night my thoughts have filled my heart with pain;God knows the anguish in which I remain.”
The counselor replied, “The deed is done,And rumor spreads beneath the circling sun.
Now mend your own affairs as best you may;Your own thread you have broken in this way.
The Shah is dust within his silent tomb;The earth has soothed his soul within that gloom.
Call men of worldly wisdom to your side,And sharpen speech with sweetness as your guide.
Say this: ‘The Shah gave me his crown and ring,As emblems of the power of the king.
He knew the Turkish army had drawn near,And called me when the darkened night was here.
He said: “When battle’s wind begins to blow,Who knows on whom the dust of war will go?
Take now this crown and signet in your hand;They may serve vengeance when you make your stand.
I have one daughter only left to me,Still hidden where no Arab eyes can see.
Hereafter yield my throne not to the foe;By these clear tokens in my pathway go.”
Thus I hold what the Shah placed in my hand,And sit upon the throne at his command.’
Use this device to brighten all you do;Who knows what words are false, or which are true?”
“Good!” cried Mahwi. “You are a peerless man,A minister who shapes the wisest plan.”
He summoned all the captains to his hall,And told the lying tale before them all.
They knew, “This tale is false; it would be bestTo strike his shameless head from off his breast.”
A said, “True or false, the claimIs your affair; you bear it in your name.”
Mahwi then sat upon the royal seat,And seized through his own deceit.
He portioned out the earth among the great;“I hold the seal; the world is my estate.”
He gained the world through gifts from his own store;The stars looked on in wonder more and more.
He granted and to his heir,His eldest son, and sent troops everywhere.
He raised the vicious, men of evil mind,As fitted one of his own stock and kind.
He cast the sages down throughout the land,And raised the wicked into high command.
The head of right was humbled in disgrace,And knavery showed its face in every place.
The more he gained in treasure and in might,The more the ingrate’s heart swelled with delight.
He paid his troops and gave them wealth and power,And filled his kin with vaunting pride each hour.
A Pahlevan called out his men of warAnd made for by the river’s shore.
, worldly-wise, went on ahead,Before the troops, whose scouting force he led.
They turned toward , armed for the fray,A battle-ready army on the way.
“To and we march,” he said,“To place the crown again upon our head.
By Yazdegard’s command we seek this fight,Who ruled the seven spheres in royal might.
Against my sword shall now be drawn;Through him our Shah’s bright Fortune lost its dawn.”
🏇👤📨👑❓😠🪖🐎🏹🛡️📣⚔️👴😨🪖15 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefBijan of Samarkand hears that Mahwi has taken the throne. Barsam tells how Mahwi used his troops at Marv, abandoned his own Shah in the field and then murdered him. Told that the royal line is finished, Bijan waits for Mahwi’s army to cross and meets it near Paykand.
In time the news to mighty came:“ has seized the throne and royal name.
He sends his seal and signet everywhere;The earth accepts the rule he claims to bear.
With warlike troops he turns toward ’s strand,And comes for battle with a lifted hand.”
“Who gave the crown to him?” then Bijan said;The speaker told how Mahwi ruled instead.
Then said, “O king, the mounted bandI led from went forth at my command.
From here a warlike force went to his side,Whose horsemen in fierce battle had been tried.
Mahwi had promised you, by word and sign,His golden throne and armlet, gems ashine.
His crown and treasure, he declared, would goTo Chakh; all these he promised to bestow.
The ivory throne was yours by right, he said;For you should rule the world from it instead.
For three days I fought hard at ; then lightRose on the fourth, and I renewed the fight.
Distressed at heart, I battled without rest,Till tyrant Mahwi fled the field, hard-pressed.
The Shah of Iran, left alone that day,Called to his comrades in the midst of the fray.
He struck down many of our chiefs in fight;His comrades left; he turned and took to flight.
Thus without toil Mahwi secured the prize,And seized his master’s wealth before our eyes.
The faithless man, grown rich, forgot me then,As though we two had never met as men.
Though two full months my troops at Marv held place,He showed me neither gratitude nor grace.
But secretly he slew his lord and king,The world’s bright luster, glory’s living spring.
A whose stature, proud and high,Appeared to pass the moon within the sky.
No Turk approached his upon the field;The hearts of mighty men to fear would yield.
Once he was slain, Mahwi usurped his place,And took the path of evil and disgrace.
The scouts report his force is on the way;We must not let him bar our road today.
Now that the foe in arms invades your land,You and your army must arise and stand.
Let thorns not blossom in the royal ground,Or all the garden’s memory is drowned.”
When Bijan heard, he gathered for the fightHis Turkish horsemen, warriors of might.
From he rode out, nor spentA single moment idle as he went.
When he drew near ’s outer bound,His troops spread over ’s level ground.
He told his men, “Do not attack too soon;Let Mahwi first cross over the Jihun.
Let him bring forth his troops and brave the fray;Perhaps we shall avenge the Shah today.”
Then Bijan asked, “Did not the king retainA child or brother of the royal strain?
If not a son, a daughter might survive;Was none of all his children left alive?
That heir we would bring here and give our aid,And overcome the man who had betrayed.”
Barsam replied, “My lord, that race is done;The Arabs hold their provinces as one.
No king remains; the Fire’s own faithful bandRemains no longer in that conquered land.”
He led his force, his hand upon his head,In wonder at the world and filled with dread.
The scouts came: “Mahwi’s troops are drawing near;At they prepare for battle here.
They crossed by boat; their dust obscured the day,And all the plain grew dark along their way.”
Then Bijan rode before his men to layHis battle lines in order for the fray.
When Mahwi saw that throng appear,His soul seemed poised to leave his frame in fear.
So many s, helmets, shining bright,With golden shields and spears arrayed for fight;
So many gorzes, Chakh-forged axes rose;He grieved to see the numbers of his foes.
He formed his line against them on the ground;The sky grew indigo; dust wrapped them round.
⚔️🐎👴🏃👤🏇🪢⛓️🗣️👑💀⚖️🔥👨👦👦💀👥😢17 emoji · the whole poem in emoji →
In briefBarsam runs Mahwi down on the desert near Farab and brings him in alive. Bijan has his hand, then his feet, ears and nose cut off, leaves him bound on the hot sand, and burns him with his three sons. The age of Umar begins.
When had arrayed his troops to fight,He planned to ambush Iran’s force outright.
perceived it, raised a fearful cry,Then fled the army’s center, bent to fly.
Bijan looked forth, beheld his flag, and knewThat Mahwi from the open fight withdrew.
He called : “From out the center drawYour troops aside, and watch the man we saw.
Do not let Mahwi shirk the coming fightAnd flee toward in headlong flight.
Ride fast, and never let him out of view;We have another course we can pursue.”
Barsam of Chin saw Mahwi’s standard go,And drew his troops aside, and was not slow.
He rode in haste toward ’s distant town,With curses on his lips, his face a frown.
He found him on Farab’s broad desert track,Then pressed his stirrups, charging to attack.
They met; he did not strike him with his blade,But other feats of fearless strength displayed.
He seized his enemy’s belt with iron might,Unseated him and hurled him down outright.
Dismounting there, he bound him as he planned,Then mounted, driving him across that land.
His comrades gathered swiftly at his side;The news of Mahwi’s capture traveled wide.
They said, “Strike off his head with axe today;Why take him farther on this weary way?”
He answered, “No; Bijan has not yet heardThat I have trapped this faithless, evil bird.”
The news reached Bijan: “Mahwi has been caught,That slave whose deeds such misery have brought.”
The king-slayer, bound fast in iron chain,Was dragged in shame behind the warrior train.
When Bijan heard, he laughed in his delight,Released from care, his heart once more grew light.
They pitched a royal tent upon the sand,And dragged the traitor to his lord’s command.
The guilty wretch saw Bijan standing near;His wits forsook him in his sudden fear.
In dread he scattered sand upon his head,As one already numbered with the dead.
Then Bijan said, “May no man ever ownA slave whose heart such wickedness has known.
Why did you slay that righteous Shah, whose handHeld victory, throne, and crown by just command?
A king by ancestry, a Shah by right,’s memory and Iran’s light?”
Mahwi replied, “For one whose deeds are base,Death and reproach are fitting, with disgrace.
Now strike my neck, and let my guilt be paid;Before the gathered ranks my head be laid.”
He feared the vengeance Bijan might prepare:To flay him, leaving bleeding flesh laid bare.
The warrior knew the secret of his fear,And paused before he gave an answer clear.
Bijan replied, “I now shall play my part,And purge the thirst for vengeance from my heart.
With such fine valor, wisdom, judgment shown,And such a nature, you desired the throne!”
He struck off Mahwi’s hand with one sword blow,And said, “No hand has ever stooped so low.”
The hand cut off, he gave a stern decree:“Cut off both feet; here let his station be.”
At Bijan’s word, his ears and nose were shorn;Then Bijan mounted, leaving him forlorn.
“Upon this heated sand let him remain,Until he sleeps in shame,” he told his train.
They bound his head and arms with cords pulled tight,And cast him down; the horns rang at the sight.
A herald went about the ranks to cryHis warning, passing every tent nearby:
“You servants who have slain your lords, beware;Let not vain thoughts disturb you everywhere.
Let him who spared not royal life be shownThe fate of Mahwi; may he find no throne!”
Three young sons of Mahwi were there that day,All crowned, with thrones, within his armed array.
They kindled fire upon that very ground,And burned the father and three sons they found.
None of that stock remained; if one should stay,Whoever saw him drove the man away.
The chiefs cursed all that house in ’s name;Their hearts sought vengeance for the deed of shame.
“A curse on him; let no man fail to castThe curse his deeds have earned, from first to last.”
Now ’s age would follow; Faith would rise,The pulpit serve as throne before men’s eyes.
Next in the poemE11 · The EpilogueOr read the notes on E9 and E10. After this comes Ferdowsi’s own epilogue.