English
Part 3
After some time had passed this way, the doorkeeper at last caught wind of what was happening.
He probed their hidden business and looked closely into the affair from the start.
Whoever speaks careless, reckless words only shakes the tree of misfortune.
He looked into who the man was and where his city lay, and why he had come to Turan.
He learned the truth and grew afraid for his own life, so he hurried toward his own remedy.
He saw no other course than to report it, and rushed out from behind the curtain.
He came before the king of the Turks and said: Your daughter has chosen a mate from Iran.
When Afrasiab, the world-seeker, heard mention of this, it was as if a wind woke him.
Blood streamed from his lashes; enraged, he told the story over again.
Whoever has a daughter behind the curtain, even if he wears a crown, is ill-starred.
For one whose daughter comes instead of a son, no door-bridegroom is better than the grave.
His heart was stunned by Manizheh's deed; he summoned Qarakhan the commander.
He said to him: About this shameless woman's act, give me sober counsel.
Qarakhan answered the king thus: Look more carefully into the matter.
If it is true, there is no room for talk; but hearing of a thing is not like seeing it.
Then, in grief, he spoke to Garsivaz, his heart full of blood and his eyes brimming with pale tears.
Why does fate lay this chain on me: worry over Iran's realm and over my own child?
Go with alert, wary horsemen and guard the palace, its roof and its doors.
Whoever you find inside the palace, bind him and drag him here to me.
When Garsivaz came near the door, from the hall came shouts of feasting and drinking.
The clamor of the harp and the sound of the lute rose from Afrasiab's own hall.
The horsemen seized the doors and the roof of that royal palace and blocked every path.
When Garsivaz saw the palace doors shut and heard the wine and the endless revelry,
the horsemen gathered around him as the commander went toward the locked door.
He set his hand to it, tore the bolt from its place, and burst in through the doorway into the hall.
He came quickly to that chamber where the stranger held the seat of honor.
When from the doorway his eyes fell on Bizhan, his blood boiled and his skin flushed with rage.
In that room were three hundred serving girls, all with lutes and wine and song.
Bizhan writhed within himself: How can I fight when my body is bare?
I have neither my black horse nor my swift bay; it seems the sun of my luck has set today.
In the whole world I see no friend to help; no one comes to my cry but God.
Where are Giv and Gudarz of the house of Kashvad now, when a man must give his life for nothing?
He always kept, inside one boot-leg, a bright, gleaming dagger.
He set his hand, drew the dagger from its sheath, took command of the room and cried out his name:
I am Bizhan, son of the house of Kashvad, chief of the champions and the free-born.
No one will pierce my skin unless he first grows sick of his own life.
Even if the Day of Resurrection breaks upon the world, no one will see my back in flight.
You know my ancestors and my king, and my rank among the heroes.
If they mean to fight, then to battle, and I will forever wash my hand in blood.
With this dagger I will cut off the heads of many Turanian chiefs.
But if you bring me to the commander of Turan and plead my case well for me,
if you ask him to spare my blood, it would be right for you to guide him toward mercy.
Garsivaz made no move against him, seeing how sharp and fierce his grip was.
He knew the man spoke the truth, and that he was ready to soak his hands in blood.
He kept faith with him through oaths and gave him much kindly counsel.
By a pledge he got the dagger away from him, then gently drew him into bonds.
He brought him tied like a hunting leopard. What use is skill once your day has turned?
Such are the ways of this hunched sky: when you enjoy its softness, you soon meet its harshness.
When the hero came before the king, hands bound and head bare,
he saluted him and said: O sovereign, if you seek the truth from me,
I will tell you the whole story from start to finish, if you will hear me out.
I did not seek out this festival ground by choice; no one is to blame in this affair.
I came from Iran to hunt wild boar and stumbled upon this Turanian festival.
For the sake of a hunting-hawk that had gone astray, I strayed far from my loving family.
I lay down to sleep beneath a cypress tree, to have its shade against the sun.
A fairy came, spread her wings, and carried me off asleep in her arms.
She parted me from my horse and set out, for an army and the king's daughter were coming.
Horsemen were scattered all across the plain, and how many litters passed by me!
From afar an Indian canopy appeared, with Turan's riders around it on every side.
In the midst was a litter fashioned of aloeswood, draped over with a silken curtain.
Inside it slept an idol-fair figure, a crown laid at her pillow beside her.
The fairy invoked the demon over and over, and swept in among the riders like the wind.
Suddenly she set me in that litter and chanted a spell over that lovely face,
so that until she reached the palace she did not stir from sleep, while my own eyes filled with tears.
I have no guilt in any of this, and Manizheh is not tainted by this affair.
No doubt it was fortune, turned against me, that made the fairy try her magic on me.
It happened just as I said, no more, no less; here now I have neither kin nor friend.
Then Afrasiab answered him: Your evil luck has hurried you to this.
You are the one who sought war from Iran with sword and lasso, chasing a great name.
Now, like a woman, hands bound before me, you babble of sleep like a drunken man.
By practicing your lies, you think you will snatch your head away from me.
Bizhan said to him: O sovereign, hear one wise word from me.
Boars with their tusks and lions with their claws can put up a fight anywhere.
And heroes too, with sword, arrow, and bow, can struggle against those who wish them ill.
But one man stands bound and bare, another armored in steel.
How can a lion tear when its sharp claws are gone, however full of fury its heart may be?
If the king wishes to see me show my courage before this gathering,
order me a horse and a heavy mace, and pick a thousand of the finest Turkish chiefs.
On the field of battle, set them against me, all thousand; if I come out alive, do not count me a man.
When he heard these words from Bizhan, he threw his eyes over him and flared with rage.
He looked at Garsivaz once: See what we have suffered from Iran, and what we still will.
Do you not see how this vile wretch keeps plotting still more against me?
The evil he has done was not enough for him; he still seeks battle and disgrace and war.
Bind him like this, hand and foot, and in that very hour clear him out of this place.
Order a gallows raised before the gate, where there is a crossing on every side.
Hang that ill-starred man up alive, and speak no more of him to me.
So that from now on no Iranian will dare to even look toward Turan.
They dragged him away from Afrasiab, his heart wounded with pain and his eyes full of tears.
When Bizhan, broken-hearted, reached the gate, the blood from his lashes left his feet stuck in the mud.
He kept saying: If the Creator has written on my brow that I die in this cruel hour,
I do not fear the gallows or the killing; I fear the heroes of Iran,
that my enemy will call me a coward, my body hung on a gibbet without a wound.
Before my noble ancestors, even after death, there will be reproach upon me.
My soul will linger here in this place; from shame before my father, how can I return home?
Alas that my enemy will rejoice when they see my bright body on the gallows.
Alas for the king and the brave men; alas that I am far from the sight of Giv.
O wind, pass over the land of Iran and carry a message from me to the chosen king.
Tell him that Bizhan is caught in hardship, like a deer that could not escape the lion's claws.