Beginning of the Book

In the name of the Lord of life and reason, beyond whom no thought can ever rise. Lord of every name, Lord of every place, the giver of daily bread, the guide of the way. Lord of Saturn and the turning sky, who lit the moon, Venus, and the sun. He is higher than any name, sign, or guess; he is the artist who painted the body of all that exists. You will never see the Creator with your eyes, so do not torment your two eyes trying. Not even thought can find a road to him, for he is above all names and all places. Whatever words go past these created things, neither soul nor reason can reach him through them. When reason chooses its words, it chooses only what it can see. No one can praise him as he truly is; you must simply tie the belt of servitude. He weighs both reason and soul, yet how could he fit within our measured thought? With these tools, judgment, soul, and tongue, how could anyone ever praise the Creator? You must confess that he simply is, and turn away from all useless talk. Be a worshipper and a seeker of the way, looking deeply into what he commands. Whoever has knowledge holds real power; through knowledge an old heart grows young again. Beyond this veil there is no place for speech; thought has no road into the nature of his being.

Now, wise one, this is the right moment to speak of wisdom and describe it. So bring out whatever you know about wisdom, so the attentive ear may profit from it. Wisdom is better than anything God has given; to praise wisdom is the truest justice. Wisdom is your guide and it opens the heart; wisdom takes your hand in both worlds. From it comes your joy and from it your sorrow; from it your abundance and from it your lack. If a person's wisdom is clouded, though otherwise bright of soul, they will never feel true joy for even a moment. What did that sage, that man of reason, say, whose words a wise listener draws benefit from? Whoever does not keep wisdom before them will end up with a heart torn by their own deeds. The clear-headed will call such a person mad, and even their own kin will treat them as a stranger. Through wisdom you are honored in both worlds; without it, your feet are shackled and bound. Look closely: wisdom is the eye of the soul; without that eye you cannot travel this world with joy. Know that wisdom was the first thing created; it guards the soul and watches over the three senses. Your three watchmen are the eye, the ear, and the tongue, for through these three, without doubt, come both good and evil. Who could ever fully praise wisdom and the soul? And if I tried to praise them, who could bear to hear it all? Wise one, since no one can do it justice, what use is more talk? From here on, tell instead how creation came to be. You are the work of the world's Maker; you can see all things, both the open and the hidden. Seek the path through the words of those who know; travel the world and share what you learn with everyone. Whenever you hear a lesson from any field of knowledge, do not rest for a single moment from learning it. When you glimpse the branch of true understanding, you will realize that knowledge has no end.

From the very beginning you must understand rightly the origin of the elements, how they first came to be. That God created something out of nothing, so that He might reveal His power for all to see. The source of the elements is these four, brought forth without toil and without the passing of time. One was a fire that rose up bright and blazing, set between water and wind, above the dark earth. First, when the fire stirred and breathed, from its heat dryness came into being. And after that, from stillness cold appeared, and from that cold, moisture in turn increased. When these four elements had taken their place, they came together to form this fleeting world. The elements were fitted one within another, and in every way they raised their heads. This swift-turning dome of heaven appeared, revealing fresh wonders again and again. Over the twelve signs and the seven planets it became master, and each one took the place that suited it. The gate of giving and bestowal opened wide, and the Wise One gave to each as was fitting. The spheres were linked one within another, and once the work was joined, they began to move. With sea and mountain, with plain and meadow, the earth became like a shining lamp. The mountains grew tall, the waters gushed up, and the heads of the plants reached toward the sky. The earth had no lofty place at first; it was a single dark and black center. The stars shone their wonder upon it, and added light to the dust below. The fire kept rising, the water came falling down, and the sun kept turning around the earth. Grass sprang up along with many kinds of trees, whose heads, by their nature, bend toward the ground. A plant only grows; it has no other power, it cannot roam in every direction as the moving creatures do. After that, the moving creatures appeared, and brought all the plants under their sway. They seek food, sleep, and rest, and from life they seek only such pleasures. They have no speaking tongue and no seeking mind; they nourish their bodies from dust and stubble. They know nothing of good and evil, nor how things end, and the Creator asks no worship of them. Since the Wise One was powerful and just, He hid no art or skill in His creation. Such is the end of the world's affair; no one truly knows its open and hidden ways.

Once past all this, humankind appeared, the key that unlocked every lock of existence. The human head rose straight and tall like a cypress, made for good speech and the use of reason. Being fit to receive intelligence, judgment, and wisdom, all beasts and creatures obey his command. Look for a moment through the lens of reason: what, in truth, does a human being really mean? Do not carelessly call this creature 'human' by name alone, as if you knew no deeper mark of it. You were raised up from both worlds, the spiritual and the material, nurtured by many intermediary forces. First in creation's purpose, last in the count of its making; so do not treat yourself as something trivial. I have heard the wise speak of this in another way, yet how can we grasp the secret of the world's Creator? Look ahead and see your own end; when you find a path, choose the best one. It is right to put your body through hardship, for suffering for the sake of knowledge is worthy. If you wish to be freed from every evil and never fall head first into the snare of calamity, Look at this swiftly turning dome of sky, from which comes both the cure and the pain. The turning of time does not wear it down, nor does toil and sorrow injure it. It never rests from its constant motion, nor does it suffer decay as we do. From it comes abundance, from it comes the reckoning; good and evil lie plain before it.

The dark blue sky is made of red ruby, not of water and dust, not of wind and smoke. With so many glowing lights, with so many lamps, it is decked out like a garden at Nowruz. Moving through it is a heart brightening jewel, the one from which the day takes its light. It rises in the east and travels toward the west; no order is more exact or truer than this. You who are my very sun, what has happened, that you no longer shine on me?

It is a lamp prepared for the dark night; so, as far as you can, never turn toward evil. When it completes a cycle of thirty days, the dark world is made bright by it. At first it appears thin and yellow, like the bent back of someone worn down by the grief of love. The moment an onlooker glimpses it from afar, it vanishes again just as quickly. The next night it shows itself for longer, and gives you more light. In two weeks it grows full and perfect; then it returns to what it was at the start. Each night it grows thinner, drawing nearer to the shining sun. This is how the just Lord fashioned it, and so it will remain, for as long as it endures.

Knowledge and faith will truly set you free; you must go seeking the gate of salvation. If you don't want your heart to be broken, if you don't want to be forever miserable, then find your way through the Prophet's words, and wash the darkness from your heart with this water. What did he say, that lord of scripture and revelation, the master of what is commanded and what is forbidden? That after the great messengers, the sun shone on no one better than Abu Bakr. Omar brought Islam into the open and adorned the world like a garden in spring. After those two, the chosen one was Osman, a man of modesty and a man of faith. Fourth was Ali, husband of Fatima, whom the Prophet praised for his goodness. He said: 'I am the city of knowledge, and Ali is its gate.' These words are truly the Prophet's own. I bear witness that these words are his; it is as though both my ears are filled with his voice. He spoke like this of Ali, and of the others too, for through them the faith grew strong in every way. The Prophet is the sun, his companions like the moon, bound to one another on a single straight road. I am a servant of the Prophet's household, one who praises the dust beneath his heir's feet. The wise man likened this world to a sea, with fierce winds stirring up its waves. Seventy ships were built upon it, all of them with their sails raised high. One broad ship, lovely as a bride, decked out and bright as a rooster's eye. Muhammad was aboard it, and Ali, and with them the household of the Prophet and his heir. The wise man, seeing the sea from afar, its shore invisible and its depths unseen, knew that its waves would rise and strike, and that no one would escape from drowning. He said in his heart: if I must drown, let it be with the Prophet and his heir, two faithful friends. Surely then my rescuer will be the lord of the crown, the banner, and the throne, the lord of the stream of wine and honey, of the fountain of milk and the pure flowing water. If you set your eyes on the other world, take your place beside the Prophet and Ali. If this offends you, then the fault is mine; so be it, for this is my faith and my way. On this I was born and on this I will pass; know that I am the dust beneath Ali's feet. If your heart leans toward the wrong path, then your own heart is your enemy in this world. None but the fatherless would be his enemy, one whose body God will burn in fire. Whoever holds hatred for Ali in his soul, who in this world is more wretched than he? Take care not to treat the world as a game, and not to turn away from good companions. You must begin all your goodness now, if you would travel alongside people of good name. How long can I keep speaking on this subject? In truth, I can find no end to it.

Whatever I might say, others have said before; they have already walked through the garden of knowledge. Even if I can find no place on the highest branch of that fruitful tree, since climbing to the top is beyond me, still, whoever stands beneath a tall palm is sheltered by its shade from harm. Perhaps I can at least build a foothold on a branch of that shade giving cypress, so that through this famous book of kings I may leave a lasting keepsake in the world. Do not take this for a lie or a mere fable; do not dismiss it as trickery and pretense. Whatever in it agrees with reason, take plainly; the rest carries a hidden meaning you must seek beneath the words. There was a book from ancient times, filled with many a story within it, its pages scattered in the hands of many a priest, each wise man holding some share of it. There was a champion of noble Persian stock, brave and great, wise and generous. A seeker of the days of old, he searched out all the words of the past. From every land he summoned an aged priest who kept the memory of this book alive. He asked them about the kings of the world, and about those famous and fortunate lords: how they held the world at the beginning, and how they left it to us in such a broken state; how, under a lucky star, their age of heroic deeds came to its end. The great ones told him, one by one, the tales of kings and the turning of the world. When the commander had heard their words, he laid the foundation of a famous book. Such a keepsake was left in the world that both low and high sing its praise.

When a reader had recited many of these tales from the book to everyone, the whole world set its heart on this story, the wise and the upright among them too. A young man came forward, eloquent, a fine speaker with a fluent gift for verse. 'I will turn this book into poetry,' he said, and the hearts of the whole gathering rejoiced. But his youth was paired with a bad temper; he was always at war with what was good. Death suddenly charged at him and set a dark helmet upon his head. Because of that bad temper he gave up his sweet life, having never known a single happy day in his youth. One by one his fortune turned against him, and he was slain at the hand of a slave. He left, and this book remained untold; so his once wakeful fortune fell asleep. O God, forgive his sins, and raise his standing on the day of resurrection.

When my bright heart turned away from that poet, it turned instead toward the throne of the world's king. I resolved to take this story in hand and, out of an old record, bring it to life in my own words. I asked countless people about it, and I grew afraid of the turning of the times. What if I were not given enough time, and had to hand the work over to someone else? And besides, no treasure stayed loyal to me, and no one was willing to pay for such labor. So for a while I let it be, and kept my words hidden away. The whole age was full of war; the world had grown narrow for those who searched for anything. Yet what is better in the world than good words, in the eyes of the fortunate great who weigh speech? If speech had not come to us from God, how would the Prophet have been our guide? In my city I had one kind friend; you would say we shared a single skin. He said to me: this plan of yours is fine, your steps are turning toward the good. I have this book written in Pahlavi; I will bring it to you so you never rest idle. You have an eloquent tongue and your youth; you have the gift for telling heroic tales. Go, retell this book of kings, and by this earn yourself honor among the great. When he brought this book to me, it lit up this darkened soul of mine.

When I reached out to begin this book, there was a noble man, proud and lofty. He was young, of a warrior's blood, wise, alert, and clear of spirit. A master of good judgment and of modesty, fine in speech and gentle of voice. He said to me: what is it you need from me, while your soul is drawn toward the making of words? Whatever lies within my reach, I will work so you never have to ask another. He kept me safe like a fresh apple, so that no storm-wind could ever frighten me. From the mournful dust I rose to the height of Saturn, thanks to that kind-hearted, honored, celebrated man. In his eyes gold and silver were the same as plain dirt; generosity had given him all his grace and glory. The whole world was worthless before him; he was a true, noble man, and he was loyal. That famous man vanished from our circle like a tall cypress gone from the garden lawn. I find no sign of him, alive or dead; he fell into the jaws of man-killing monsters. Alas for that girded waist, that noble bearing; alas for that kingly height and majesty. My heart, held captive, has lost all hope, trembling and shaking weakly like a willow. Let me recall one piece of advice from that lord, and turn my soul from crookedness toward justice. He told me: this book of kings, when you have finished it, dedicate it to kings. So I set my hand to this book in the name of the proud king of kings.

Since the Creator first shaped the world, no guardian like him has ever appeared. When the sun set its crown upon the sky, the earth grew bright as gleaming ivory. But how shall I say who that shining sun was, the one whose light spread through the world? Abul Qasim, that king of victorious fortune, placed his throne above the crown of the sun. He adorned the world from east to west, and from his splendor rose a mine of gold. My sleeping star awoke, and many thoughts stirred within my mind. I knew the time for words had come: now the old world would be made new. Musing on the king of the earth, one night I fell asleep, my lips full of praise. My heart, like a lamp in that dark night, lay awake, open-hearted, its lips sealed. My bright spirit saw in a dream a radiant candle rising up from the water. The whole lapis-blue face of the night turned to yellow ruby from that candle. Field and plain became like silk brocade, and a turquoise throne came into view. On it sat a king bright as the moon, a crown upon his head in place of a helmet. His army stretched in ranks for two miles, and at his left stood seven hundred mighty elephants. A pure minister stood before him on his feet, guiding the king toward justice and faith. My head grew dizzy at the king's splendor, at those great elephants and so vast an army. When I beheld that royal face, I asked those famous nobles: Is this the sky and moon, or crown and throne? Are those stars before him, or an army? One replied: this is the king of Rome and India, from Kannauj to the shores of the Sindh. Iran and Turan are his servants, living by his counsel and his command. He adorned the face of the earth with justice, and only then set the crown upon his head. The world-ruler Mahmud, the great king, brings lamb and wolf to drink side by side. From Kashmir to the shores of China, kings sing his praises. When a child's lips leave its mother's milk, the first word it speaks from the cradle is Mahmud. No one turns his head from his command, nor dares to break his covenant. You too must praise him, for you are a poet, seeking through him a lasting name. When I awoke, I sprang from my place, after how long I had stood in the dark night. I recited praise upon that king; I had no coins, so I scattered my life instead. I said in my heart: this is the answer to the dream, for his name brings blessing to the world. Praise be to him who blesses, to that wakeful fortune and this blessed land. By his splendor the world became like a spring garden, the air full of clouds, the earth full of adornment. The clouds sent down their rain in season, and the world became like the garden of Iram. All that is good in Iran comes from his justice; wherever there are people, he is on their minds. At the feast he is a sky of generosity; in battle he is a dragon with sharp claws. In body a mighty elephant, in soul Gabriel, in hand a winter cloud, in heart the river Nile. The proud fortune of his enemy, before his wrath, is as worthless as a coin in his eyes. He takes no tribute or treasure by force, nor does his heart darken at war or hardship. Everyone he has raised, whether free men or good-hearted servants, each of them, like true friends of the king, has bound his belt firmly to obey his command. First is his younger brother, whose humanity has no equal. A servant of glory and victory in the world, he lives happily in the shade of the king of the age. The one whose father was Nasir al-Din: the head of his throne is the crown of the Pleiades. And next the brave commander of Tus, who toys with lions in battle. He gives away every coin he gains from the world, and from the world he receives only praise in return. He guides the people toward God, and wishes the king's crown to endure. May the world never lack a king and crown; may he always live, joyful and eternal. May his body ever thrive with crown and throne, free of pain and grief, of victorious fortune. Now let me return to the start of my task, to the famous chronicle of the kings.