English
The Death of the Emperor of Rome and the War with Khosrow
This is what the ancient book tells us, from the words of those wise and truthful men:
That news reached the flourishing land, came to Khosrow the world-ruler from Rome,
Saying: May you live long, for the Emperor has died; he has handed time and earth to another.
Khosrow's soul grew heavy with thoughts of death; his ruby cheeks turned pale as a withered leaf.
He chose an envoy from among the Iranians, a worldly-wise, noble, and generous man,
And sent him to the dead man's son, the flourishing fruit on that green branch.
He spoke to him with many gentle words: from this fate no one can escape.
He wrote a letter full of grief and pain, his two cheeks pale and wet with tears,
Saying: May God grant you long life, may He give you goodness and success as well.
Every living creature is born only for death; this world is a passing inn, and we are travelers passing through.
Whether we polish a crown or a helmet, none of us can slip free from the claws of death.
Emperor or Khan, when the appointed time comes, his head will surely fall into the dust.
May you have great reward for your father's passing; may the spirit of the Messiah be your companion.
I have heard that you sit on his famous throne, and fortune has arrayed itself around you.
Ask us for whatever strength you need: horses, weapons, treasure, or troops.
The envoy set out from Khosrow's presence and hastened swiftly toward the Emperor.
When he came to the court, they opened the way, and the envoy approached the throne and seat.
When the Emperor looked and read the heading, his heart flared up at Khosrow's air of superiority.
The lord was young and newly on the throne; he did not even touch the envoy's hand.
He asked his questions grudgingly, with a cold glance and a crooked look.
He lodged the man in a distant place and paid no attention to the king's letter.
For a whole week, everyone who was a counselor gathered together around the Emperor.
At last they said: We are the lesser ones; we will not defy the world-king's command.
Such a letter was fitting from Khosrow indeed; it need not be pleasant, though it was ill-tempered.
But today the Emperor is young and new, foremost by lineage in these frontier lands.
For one year at least, do not provoke the young man with talk of superiority, tribute, and tax.
Out of stubbornness and willful pride, they wrote back an unfitting, insolent letter,
Headed: From the exalted Emperor of Rome; the whole world, end to end, is wretched except Rome.
The envoy of Iran's king has arrived; let him report all he saw of our marketplace.
Whatever he says of our sorrow or joy, neither grief nor gladness should be hidden.
The old emperor was gone, and a new one had risen,
one who would raise his head above every lord.
Among kings no one truly belongs to anyone;
even a lesser king can be a rescuer.
They prepared a letter in the Roman fashion
and summoned the envoy to the court.
When the wise envoy learned the decision was firm,
he came to the court and asked for a reply to the letter.
They dressed him in a robe unfit for his rank
and cleared the hall of the stranger.
The emperor said to him: I am no servant,
nor am I any less than the men of China or the Hephthalites.
It is wrong to belittle a great man,
even if your king rules the whole world.
Great is the man who has many enemies;
as for me, both friend and foe cling to my skirt.
Why do you withhold your greatness from me?
You are trying to hide the sun behind a cloud.
Its light is not diminished by that,
nor is it dampened if you spatter blood upon it.
When trouble comes to me, you are my king;
you are also all that remains to me of your father.
Report all you have seen kindly,
and seek no ugliness in the answer to this letter.
They dressed the envoy in a robe of honor
and brought him a horse from the governor's stables.
The envoy set out and came back in haste,
never pausing an hour at any stopping place.
He arrived and reached Khosrow,
and told all he had gone through, seen, and heard.
His words made the king heartsick;
the king said to him: You have reaped only hardship from your journey.
I have heard that whoever nurses his own desires
reaps punishment for his deeds in the end.
If a man cannot tell a friend from an enemy,
he will read out the secrets of his heart to you like this.
He assumes that I am not his friend,
though he himself has neither sinew nor skin to stand on.
Now I will not let a single man of Roman blood
remain to sit content upon that throne.
He holds his head high, saying: I am the emperor,
as though he were the greatest among the renowned.
From now on I will make Rome's name accursed;
I will raise fire from its flourishing lands.
By the pure God, by the sun and moon,
by the sacred fire Azargoshasp, by throne and crown,
I swear that from all he owns in his kingdom
an oxhide could barely hold his ancient treasure.
My sword's edge will not rest in its sheath;
let all the world's pleasures be forbidden to me.
He ordered the trumpets sounded at his gate,
along with cymbals and Indian bells.
They strapped all the war drums onto huge elephants,
and the face of the world turned dark as indigo.
An army poured out from Ctesiphon into the plain,
so vast the green sea itself was stunned by it.
From the wailing of horns and the colors of banners,
from the surge of riders in golden boots,
you would think the stars had sunk into water,
and the turning heavens themselves had fallen asleep.
When word reached the Emperor about the king,
that he had marched from his palace in fury with an army,
he came from Amorium to Aleppo,
filling the world with war, tumult, and turmoil.
Roman horsemen, some three hundred thousand,
laid siege to Aleppo from every side.
The armies closed in from all directions to fight,
and their fighting allowed no long delay.
At every gate the catapults were set,
by the Roman commander who was their patriarch general.
They cleared the fortress of Saqilan,
from that side they prepared to launch their assault.
Aleppo became like a sea of blood,
and the garrison at Batron pleaded for mercy.
In two weeks they took thirty thousand of the Romans captive,
and the news came to the king.
Countless enemies they killed with arrows,
and many were seized in the fighting.
Before the army they dug a trench,
and at dawn they let the water flood in.
With the trench they blocked the king's path,
and the king and his army were halted from battle.
A long time passed like this,
and the army came to need silver and gold.
The commander summoned the paymasters,
and spoke to them at length about that war.
He said, this task has cost us great hardship;
by water and trench there is no crossing over.
The army needs coin and equipment,
also horses, armor, and Roman helmets.
The paymasters went toward the treasury,
the scribes and the treasurer of the world's king.
For the size of the royal army,
the coin fell short by three hundred thousand.
The priest came to the king swiftly,
and reported what coin was left in the treasury.
The king's face grew grim at this matter,
and he ordered Bozorgmehr to come.
He said to him, if the royal treasury is empty,
what use to me is the imperial throne?
Go now and call for the caravan drivers;
set the swift Bactrian camels on the road.
Load a hundred camels from the treasury of Mazandaran,
and load even more of them with gold coin.
Bozorgmehr said to the world's king,
O king of wisdom, justice, and love,
the road to Iran's treasury is long,
and the army would sit idle and empty-handed.
In these cities all around there are people;
some who hold much coin in hand.
If you ask a loan of coin from merchant and landholder,
they will not be displeased.
The king agreed to this plan,
since the sage of Iran had made his case.
Bozorgmehr sought out a messenger,
wise, cheerful of heart, and fair of face.
He told him, go from here with a three-horse relay,
and pick out one renowned, brave man.
From among the merchants and landholders of the city,
someone who has a share of good name.
For the army, ask for this loan of silver coins; the king will soon order it drawn from his treasury.
A messenger of good character came, a young man, wise and of fine conduct.
The envoy was a man of subtle thought; he arrived at a city that lay nearby.
He sought a loan of silver on the king's behalf, and many wealthy men gathered around him.
Among them was a cobbler, a seller of boots, who listened keenly to his words.
The man asked how many coins were needed, and the bold envoy named the amount.
He said: O wise and wealthy man, forty maunds of coins, each maund a hundred thousand.
The cobbler said: I will give this myself, and earn the treasurer's gratitude upon my head.
He brought scales, weights, and coins; there was no ledger, no need for pen.
When the merchant had weighed out the silver, the envoy was finished with his task.
The cobbler said to him: O handsome one, take the trouble to speak to Bozorgmehr.
Tell him that I have a young son whose future is not a small matter to my heart.
Say, perhaps the king of the world might quietly grant me this joy:
that he entrust the boy to the learned men, for the boy has both the means and the ability.
The envoy said: I do not count this a burden, since you have shortened my road to the treasury.
At night he came to the wise man and spoke about the cobbler's request.
Bozorgmehr went happily to the king and, over that wealth, his face lit up.
Then he said: Thanks be to God; may I never be anything but pure and knowing of God,
that within this kingdom a boot-maker should be so happy and should brighten the world,
that he can put aside so many coins; may no injustice ever wound him.
See now what he desires; may this same way and manner remain with us.
When you repay his loan of a hundred thousand coins, give it, so a good memory of us remains.
By such subjects the realm grows bold; through them the world-seeker keeps his throne and crown.
May no unjust king ever sit happy upon the throne and enjoy his days.
Bozorgmehr said to the king of the world: O king of good fortune and handsome face,
the boot-seller has made one request, if the king will lend his servant an ear.
The envoy reports that the man said: May the king of the world be joined with wisdom.
I have a son who has come of age, and he seeks a guide toward learning.
If the king would lend his hand to this, so that this good child may become a scribe,
I will ask God for the king's life, that this worthy throne may last forever.
The king said to him: wise man, why has some demon darkened your judgment?
Send the camels back just as they came, so we will never be seen begging silver and pearls from him.
When a merchant's son becomes a scribe, skilled, learned, and quick to remember,
when our son takes the throne, he will need a scribe of good fortune.
Should we expect that skill from a mere shoe seller? Do not press me again on this matter.
For the wise man of noble birth there would remain nothing but regret and cold sighs.
The man who truly knows people would be scorned before him; when he answers, he would still have to give thanks.
After we die, curses would fall upon us, if this became the custom of the age.
We want no daily bread except from the treasury of justice; ask no coin of him and speak no more of it.
Send the camels back on the road right now; demand coin, but not from those who stitch shoes.
The messenger turned back and took the money away, and the cobbler's heart filled with pain and grief.
Night came, and he was troubled by the king's words; the sound of bells rose from the royal court.
The scouts spread out across the plain, circling the army all through the night.
When the sun showed its crown from the sky, it draped the earth in a robe of ivory light.
When the scouts returned from the edge of the trench, they came before the proud, exalted king,
saying: an envoy from the emperor has come to the king, full of sorrow and begging pardon for his wrongs.
The messenger came running at once, offering praise before Nushin Ravan.
When the Roman saw the crown of Kasra, he drew a cold sigh from deep within.
He said to himself: yes, you deserve this throne, with such kingship, courage, and so vast an army.
Then those forty Roman philosophers opened their mouths, their hearts full of dread.
Each of them brought thirty thousand gold coins as an offering laid before the ruler.
When they saw the color of the king's face, they moved off trembling and writhing like snakes.
When the king of kings saw them, he treated them kindly and arranged a fitting place for them.
The leading spokesman said: O king, the emperor is young and new to power.
His father is dead, he has not yet grasped the world, and he does not yet know the seen from the hidden.
We are all, every one of us, your tribute payers; we are your servants and under your protection.
For you, Rome is Iran and Iran is Rome; why should this land and country be divided?
In this age, wisdom belongs to the king of kings, and by it the emperor kept his back straight.
Whether the Khaqan of China or the king of India, each one alike serves this crown and throne.
If an unripe child spoke without knowledge and without a guide,
The king of kings holds no grudge or grief toward him, for the blue dome of heaven rejoices in his passing.
The same tribute Rome once paid we shall restore, and seal a fresh and binding pact.
Nushirvan laughed at these words, for the envoy had missed the very heart of the matter.
He said to him: if their leader is only a child, then his words carry little sense or wisdom.
Whether Caesar or this witless guide, ignorance has left his soul feeble and low.
All the wise ones of Alexander's line seized victory and rose to greatness.
Whoever breaks our covenant, or turns his heart from our will and command,
we will turn his thriving land to dust; we fear neither his treasury nor his army.
The envoys kissed the ground, the way flatterers always do,
saying: O victorious king of noble mind, do not reproach us for what is already past.
Every one of us is the dust beneath your toil, all of us are guardians of your treasure.
When the king is pleased with us, we shall not be miserable or ill-fated.
For the trouble the king of kings has taken here, all the Romans together have no such worth.
We will fill ten oxhides with gold coins and bring them to your treasury as tribute and toll.
Whether more or less, the command is his; let him accept it from us, though it is unworthy.
He answered: in the matter of the treasury, it is the vizier who is fit to take on the labor.
All the Romans went before the chief priest, crying out, cursing their evil star.
They spoke at length on every subject, laying before him all of Caesar's secrets.
They spoke of the gold coins and the oxhides, and of the deal in which Rome's peace lay.
The chief priest said: if you give the gold, how much brocade will you add to crown it?
When the king turns back homeward, a thousand rolls of gold-woven brocade are needed,
so the king may have robes of honor to bestow at any time, on lowly and noble alike.
On this they agreed and turned back, and all bowed low before him in reverence.
The king remained a while on that battlefield, until he and his army had found rest.
From the army he chose a seasoned man who knew how to keep and settle accounts.
He gave him a force to collect Rome's tribute and deliver it to the flourishing homeland.
From there he set out toward Ctesiphon, with troops behind him and troops ahead.
All of them richly adorned with silver and gold, with golden bridles and golden belts.
So many silken banners flew above the chiefs, you would say the whole sky had turned to silk.
You would say the plains and gates had turned to gold, and the belts, with their gems, become like the Pleiades.
When he drew near the city along the road, a great army came out to welcome him.
They all dismounted before Khosrow, belts fastened for service, hearts thrown open with joy.
Everyone who had ridden the road with the king went on foot up to the palace gate.
All the nobles offered praise to that watchful king of justice and faith.
When he settled at last upon his seat, the king extended his hand to each great lord.
The bootmaker's tale came to its end; three days had passed of the month of Muharram.
What did the wise old teacher, the seeker of the world, say about this turning of the times?
He said: one day is a rise, another a fall; sometimes we walk in ease, sometimes in dread.
In the end the bed is the dark earth; for one a mound raised high, for another a pit.
We have no sign from those who have gone, whether they wake and rejoice or lie asleep.
Even if they have no provision in that other world, it is still better that death has no chains to hold you.
Whether a hundred years or twenty-five, they come to the same thing when the day of pain is recalled.
The one who spoke of pleasure and delight is no different from the one who spoke of pain, hardship, and need.
I have never seen anyone long for death, neither the lost soul nor the good-natured person.
Whether a believer or a devil-worshipping idolater, both raise their hands in helpless dread before death.
Old man, once your years pass sixty-one, wine and cup and rest all lose their savor.
The wise, pure-minded person does not set his heart on this passing inn of a world.
When it is time to prepare for death, even a shirt of fine silk feels like a curse.
The body lies frozen in the midst of sin, while the soul, bound for paradise, has lost its way.
Many companions remain, and many have passed on; you are left with your cup, alone in the plain.
I beg time from the Maker of time, that my heart may stay glad a while longer.
For these tales and all these words have grown old, and the years have rolled over them.
From the age of King Kay down to Yazdgird, my words have gathered up the scattered dust.
I will link them together and clear the garden of weeds; I will make the stories of the kings fresh again.
Then I will not hold my heart in sorrow, even if I must pass on from this passing inn.
Now what does the clear-souled man say about the wisdom of Nushirvan, ruler of the world?
When his years reached seventy-four, the king grew full of the thought of death.
He sought a master for the world, one who would first put on the garment of justice.
And who would be kind to the poor, generous, and of a clear soul untroubled by malice.
He had six precious sons, all noble, clear-sighted, and kingly in bearing.
In courage, learning, restraint, and good judgment, they were young men, wise and delightful.
Among them the wisest and eldest in years was noble Hormozd, who had no equal.
Proud, learned, and handsome of face, he spread his love upon the free and the noble.
Kasra ordered his agents to seek out his secrets in private.
They watched him day and night, in case he opened his lips to tell a story.
Whatever he did, whether ill or good, word of it reached the king of the world.
Then the king said to Bozorgmehr: I have been keeping a secret hidden.
Now that my years have passed seventy, my head and dark hair have turned as white as camphor.
When I pass on from this fleeting inn of a world, the realm will need a master.
One who shows compassion to the poor, to strangers, and to his own people alike.
One who gives freely, keeps from loving treasure, and does not tie his heart to this passing lodging.
I thank God that I have a son, wise, learned, and devout.
Of them all, I lean most toward Hormozd, most drawn to him for his judgment and intelligence.
In compassion, generosity, and honesty, I see no flaw in his heart.
Now summon the priests and the sages, every man who turns his gaze toward knowledge.
Call him, put him to the test, and let virtue add to virtue in him.
The priests gathered together, each a seeker and counselor in his field.
They called the world-seeking Hormozd and seated him among the famed.
Bozorgmehr spoke first: O king of good fortune and handsome face,
what do you know that brightens the pure soul and mind, and lets the body reap its reward?
He answered: Knowledge is best, for the knower is a moon above the great ones.
Through knowledge a man finds safety, and shuts out the demon's hand from evil.
Next comes patience and compassion, which bring the body its name and adornment.
He asked: Tell me how a man profits from goodness, and by what he rises high.
He answered: The one who, from the very start, sought to honor everyone in good and ill,
and strove so that no heart would suffer much hardship from him.
He answered again: Whoever deals justly gladdens his own being through that justice.
The questioner Bozorgmehr looked upon that pure-hearted, handsome prince.
He said to him: Whatever there is to be said, I will say; you count each point on your fingers.
Keep all my questions in mind, and build every answer upon justice.
Do not twist your words back and forth. Set your mind on generosity and on giving justice.
If you learn this without any doubt, the gate of heaven is opened for you.
For I hurried so much in my speech, and I gained more answers than the questioner asked.
May the ruler of the world be your teacher, may wisdom be your armor and fortune your friend.
Now let me ask, in fairness, all that I know; you give whatever answer comes to your mind.
Among sons, which is the one dear to his father, the one worthy and free of fault?
Whose heart deserves our pity, so that we should weep over his pain?
Who regrets a good deed he has done, so that his heart bears witness to his remorse?
Who deserves that we blame him, when we examine his conduct?
From what in the world is it best to flee, since a resurrection rises out of its calm?
Why should we be glad in these days? What of the past is best to keep in mind?
What is the age that deserves our praise, and from what do we gain benefit?
Who is more precious than a friend, whose voice turns the heart into a garden?
Who has the most friends in the world, ones you can trust openly and in secret?
And who has the most enemies, those who wish him the greatest harm?
Where is it fitting to find rest, so that the ruler of the world can keep his back straight, secure?
What is the most harmful deed in the world, over which one must weep for what he has done?
Of the things a person nurtures, what is it that passes away soonest?
The tyrant who feels no shame before others, who is the one without love or reverence?
Whose speech brings ruin to the world? Who fills the hearts of friends with pain?
What is it that brings disgrace, and brings a man harm through his own words?
In a single day, from dawn until night rose over the mountain, he never tired of the wise man's talk.
When the time for candles came out of the darkness, the chief nobles were dim, dazed by bewilderment.
The king grew troubled by their words, and kept looking silently for an answer.
The noble Hormozd rose to his feet and offered the king a fitting blessing:
May the world never be empty of the king; may you always sit on the imperial throne.
May we never see the crown without you, neither the royal custom nor the ivory throne.
In humility, may the world be dust before you; may the turning heavens be the antidote to your harm.
I will answer every word he spoke; upon this wish I set my auspicious purpose.
The wise man asked a question about sons, and from that I must lay the foundation of my answer.
A father is glad at heart because of his son; through him his heart is freed from sorrows.
If the son is loving toward his father, inclined to goodness and just in his ways.
And another thing: where there is mercy, the eye finds a place to be cleansed.
A great man whose fortune has scattered ends up a slave before someone unworthy.
It is right to weep blood over his plight, for now impurity rules over him.
Also, whoever does good to an ungrateful person will be left in fear and dread.
Anyone who forgets a kindness done for him strives only to leave reason senseless.
He said again: when is choosing the path of flight from safety better than putting up a fight?
In a city where the ruler turns to injustice, it is not right for a wise man to stay.
One must flee from an unjust king, for from him rises upheaval across the world.
He asks: what do you know of the source of joy? A brother, and a beloved, gentle friend.
Another asks about the ways of the times, a moment in which the suspicious man loses his doubts.
It is fitting that however much he praises him, he keeps adding still more praise.
Another asked about the friend, the true man: from every friendship a helping hand is good.
If he is wealthy, wear his mantle of protection; if he is poor, exert yourself for him.
The one who is more humble and more generous makes his friends' hearts the happier.
Another asks: who is the enemy, the one from whom the heart is always in pain and torment?
When his tongue grows bold in evil, from his speech it is right that he becomes an enemy.
Another asked: what is hard? Whose heart, though harmless, is filled with noise and grief?
When one is wicked and sits with a wicked companion, that is a life as bitter as colocynth.
Another asks: who is a true witness, one on whom soul and reason both rely?
I have seen no witness better than experience, the witness that speaks and holds command.
You asked: what is the most harmful deed, whose end you will surely weep over?
When desire gains mastery over your heart, that desire passes like wind through the air.
In the end regret brings benefit; the flower of longing cannot be touched.
Another says: who is more fickle, the one who, when you seek his foot, is already at your head?
Such a friend is an ignorant man, evil in nature and shifting in judgment.
Another says: who is the tyrant, the wretch whose heart is cut off from shame?
When a man acts crookedly, call him wretched; when he acts shamelessly, call him a tyrant.
Anyone who takes lying as his trade, I call a tyrant without any light.
The corruption you spoke of, whose talk brings it on? Whose harm is the most painful hurt of all?
The gossip, the two-faced, and the idle man fill the hearts of the wise with pain.
The wise man asked: whose fault is the greatest? The one who regrets his own words.
Whoever speaks recklessly is nothing but a braggart in the company.
When he is alone and out of sight, he regrets the words he spoke.
Yet the moment he opens his mouth again, he trots out those same old boasts.
The wise and the man without skill alike, no one escapes creation's decree.
So it has been as long as time has turned: one man finds poison, another the antidote.
Every question was this and every answer the same: may the Creator of the world bless the king.
May all tongues speak at his command; may his generous heart be glad and ever seeking.
The great king Khosrow was amazed at him and offered many a royal blessing.
The gathering rejoiced at his words, and the king's heart was freed from sorrow.
By the king's command they wrote a covenant granting Hormozd the throne and crown.
When the Roman parchment dried in the breeze, they set a seal of musk upon it.
They handed it to the priest before the nobles: the great and the clear-hearted, wise men.
The world's show is not what its deeds are; its hidden truth is nothing but hardship and grief.
Whether you wear a crown or endure toil and pain, you will pass just the same from this fleeting house.
I have linked this covenant of Nushirvan to the triumph of the young king.
Read a book of kings and see who was ever like Nushirvan,
in wisdom, justice, feasting, and war; when his day ended, there was no delay for him.
You, worn-out old man who will not repent, take hold of reason and turn away from feasting and pleasure.
The world seemed fresh again the moment you found the wine cup, and you turned your soul away from repentance.
What did that aged singer say when he recalled Nushirvan's counsel?
When Hormozd's words came to an end, the priest laid the foundation for a new speech.
The counselor and the scribe agreed, then wrote a letter upon silk:
a heart-pleasing covenant from Nushirvan to Hormozd, the young and untried.
The letter's opening recalled the Just One, then said: this is the counsel of Qobad's son.
Know, my son, that this world is faithless, full of toil and grief, pain and misfortune.
The happier you are within it, the more freely your heart escapes the ordeal of the age,
still, all your joy will stay behind; you must depart from this fleeting house.
When the thought of departing rose in me, in the shining day and the long, drawn out night,
I searched for a head worthy of the royal crown, a head that would be a crown on every head.
We had six wise sons, each heart lighting, generous, and just.
I chose you because you were the greatest, wise, and worthy to wear the crown.
Qobad had reached eighty when he named me to the kingship.
Now that I have come to seventy four, I make you king over the world.
In this I sought nothing but peace and goodness, so that blessings may rest upon my soul.
My hope is that, by the Creator's will, you will always be happy and prosper through your days.
If you give people safety through justice, you yourself will sleep secure and rejoice in that justice.
As the reward for goodness you will find paradise; great is the one who plants the seed of good.
See that you are nothing if not patient, for harshness does not suit a king.
A ruler who is watchful and seeks wisdom keeps his honor all his years.
Never go anywhere near a lie; the moment you do, fortune's face turns pale.
Keep your heart and mind away from haste; haste lulls reason to sleep.
Lean toward good and strive for good; in all things, good and bad, heed the wise counsel.
Do not let evil circle around you, for from that evil, without doubt, evil will reach you.
Dress clean and eat clean in every way, and remember all your father's counsels.
Begin with God and turn to God, if you want a guide to lead you.
When you keep the world flourishing through justice, the throne prospers and the age rejoices in you.
When people do good, reward them; do not let the labor of their goodness grow stale.
Keep the wise glad and close to you, and keep the world dark for the ill wisher.
In every matter take counsel with a wise man, and do not complain of the body's toil in kingship.
When the wise find their way to you, the crown and throne and cap will stay with you.
Anyone who is under your rule, do not condemn to sit in poverty.
The great and the free born of the city should receive their share from your justice.
Keep the base born far from favor, and do not leave affairs to a tyrant.
Turn all your ear and heart toward the poor; treat their every trouble as your own sorrow.
And if an enemy should become a friend, then plant the seed of goodness in your garden.
When a famous king gives justice from within himself, the world grows glad through him, and he is glad through you.
Do not keep your treasure locked away from those who deserve it; be generous to the devout, God fearing man.
If you put my advice to work, your crown will always stand tall.
May goodness be your generous wellwisher, and may all good things shelter beneath you.
Do not let my words slip from your memory, even if you are kept far from my sight.
May your head stay green, your heart glad, your body pure and safe from the malice of the spiteful.
May wisdom always guard you, and may all your thoughts turn toward good.
When I pass from this wide world, a fine palace must be raised.
In a place so remote that no traveler passes there, where not even the swift-winged vulture can reach.
A tall hall with a doorway high against the sky, raised up like the length of ten lassos.
Inscribe upon it my court, my greatness, my treasure, and my army.
Spread there in abundance carpets of every kind, along with colors, perfumes, and scattered offerings.
Enrich my body with camphor, and crown my helmet with musk.
Bring five bolts of the finest gold-woven silk, unused, from the treasury.
Dress me in the manner of the kings, laying me among us in the way of our good ancestors.
In this same fashion make an ivory throne, with an ivory crown hung above it.
And all that is golden set before it, whether bowl or cup or jewel.
Twenty cups of rosewater, wine, and saffron; two hundred of musk, camphor, and ambergris.
Placed on the left hand and the right; from my command let nothing be added or taken away.
The hollow of the body must be drained of blood and filled with camphor and musk.
After that, seal up the gateway; no one should ever see the king.
Once the work of that hall is done this way, let no one find a path to me again.
Among my children and my noble line, whoever grieves and is wounded by my death,
let them rest from feasting and joy for two months; this is the custom after a king's death.
It is fitting that every devout soul should weep for this renowned king.
Do not go against Hormozd's command; do not count a single breath of yours apart from his will.
Many wept over that letter, and he himself lived one more year after his pledge.
He passed on, and these words remained as his keepsake; hold this keepsake faithfully.
Now, after this, let me adorn King Hormozd's crown and set him upon the throne.