English
The Search for Bizhan
For a week Gorgin waited beside the road, but Bizhan never returned.
He rushed off searching in every direction, washing his cheeks with tears of blood.
Regret came over him for what he had done, for the treachery he had planned against his friend.
He galloped back to that festival ground where Bizhan, son of Giv, had lost his way.
He circled the whole forest and saw no one, nor even heard a single birdsong there.
He kept roaming around that meadow, searching everywhere for his companion.
At last, from a distance, he saw Bizhan's horse emerging from the meadowlands.
Its bridle was torn and its saddle overturned, and it stood there frozen and grief stricken.
He understood that things had gone badly for Bizhan, that he would not return to Iran anytime soon.
Whether hanged, or thrown in a pit, or bound in chains, harm had come to him from Afrasiyab.
He threw his lasso, caught the horse, and turned back, sorry for his deed, his heart heavy with anguish.
He led Bizhan's horse from that meadow, brought it to his tent, and stayed a day.
Then he hurried toward the land of Iran, finding no rest or food night or day.
When word reached the king from Gorgin that Bizhan had not been with him on the road,
the ruler told this news to Giv, so that Giv might question Gorgin himself.
So at once the news came to Giv that his brave warrior son had gone missing.
He rushed from his house out into the street, his heart wounded with pain, his face streaming with tears.
He kept saying, Bizhan has not come back; I do not know what could have befallen him.
He ordered the chestnut steed of Keshvad to be brought, the horse he kept for the day of battle cries.
They set the saddle upon it, and Giv, fierce as a leopard, took vengeance to his heart.
The moment he set foot upon it, he shot off like the wind from where he stood.
He rode out to meet Gorgin and ask him where Bizhan was and how things had gone.
Meanwhile Gorgin kept telling himself: surely fate has been secretly plotting against me.
I am doomed if he sees me without Bizhan; he will strike my head from my body on the spot.
When Gorgin came near and saw Giv, he leapt down from his horse and ran toward him.
He rolled in the dust before him, his cheeks clawed raw, his head bared.
He cried out, saying: O chosen one of the army, commander, leader, and sun of the throne,
why have you come out on this road to meet me, your eyes brimming with blood?
I no longer want this sweet life of mine; let it end now, and worthless it will be.
For when my eyes meet your face, shame makes hot tears pour down from my eyes.
Do not worry now, no harm has touched his life, and I will tell you where he is.
When Giv saw his son's horse in Gorgin's hand, caked with dust and staggering like a drunk,
and when Gorgin's words reached his ears, he fell from his horse and lost his senses.
His head disappeared into the dust, and he tore apart all his warrior's robes.
He ripped the hair from his head and beard, and, crying out, poured dust upon himself.
He said: O Maker of the heavens, you filled my heart with reason and love.
If my son is taken from me, I accept it, even if my own thread of life is cut.
Carry my soul to the place of the good; you know the pain of my heart better than anyone.
In all this world he was everything to me, my one comfort in sorrow, my one rescuer in distress.
Now cruel fate has torn him from me, and I am left like this, afflicted in the world.
Then he questioned Gorgin, asking how it had all happened from the start,
whether time had chosen another in his place, or whether he had simply vanished from your sight.
Tell me what evils fell upon him, what shackle the heavens laid upon him.
What demon came before him in the meadow that destroyed him and turned his fortune?
How did you find this cursed, riderless horse, and where did you turn your face away from Bizhan?
Gorgin said to him: Come to your senses; listen to my words and open wide your ears,
how this thing happened, how it was done, and how the battle with the boars went in that forest.
Know it, great warrior, and be aware; may you always be the light of the throne.
We set out from here to fight the boars and drew near the heights of Arman.
We saw a woodland worked over like a hand, its trees cut down, its pastures laid low,
everywhere turned into a den of boars; all the land of Arman was in ruin because of them.
When we turned our spears to battle and raised our war cry within the woods,
the boars charged in like mountains, not one by one but gathered in a herd everywhere.
We fought a battle like lions; the day passed and still our hearts had not tired of the fight.
We hurled them together like elephants and tore out their spike-like tusks.
From there we turned our faces toward Iran, joyful all along the road and seeking game.
Then a wild ass rose up from that meadow, more beautiful than any painted picture one could see,
its coat like the rose-red color of Gudarz's horse, its face like the white steed of Farhad,
its two legs like silver, its hooves like steel, its head, ears, and tail black like Bizhan's night-dark mount,
with a neck like a lion's and a run like the wind, as if it were descended from Rakhsh.
The wild boar charged at Bizhan like an enraged elephant, and Bizhan flung his lasso at it.
The moment the rope was thrown, the beast bolted; the boar raced ahead and Bizhan galloped after it.
From the running of the boar and the dust of the rider, a cloud of dust rose over that meadow.
The ground churned up like a stormy sea, and both the lassoing rider and the boar vanished from sight.
I searched every plain and mountain, following their trail until my steed was worn out.
Nowhere did I find a trace of Bizhan, except this horse and saddle I dragged back with me.
My heart burned with grief for him, wondering how his fight with the boar had gone.
I lingered a long time in that meadow, searching for him in every direction.
I turned back from there in despair, for the boar was ferocious and the ground held white demons.
When wise Giv heard these words, he understood that something was terribly wrong.
He saw that Gorgin's whole story was confused, and his own eyes went dark looking at that face.
Gorgin's face was pale with fear of the king's commander, his words trembling, his heart heavy with guilt.
When Giv realized his son was lost, and heard the tale so tainted with lies,
the demon of rage tore Giv's heart from its place; he longed to strike Gorgin down.
He wanted to take revenge for his chosen son, no matter how much good Gorgin had once done him.
Then he stopped and thought it over, but no clear answer came to light.
He said, 'What would I gain by killing him? Only the wish of this evil, demonic wretch.'
'What use to Bizhan is taking this man's life? Let us find another cure for his plight.'
'Let us wait until this matter reaches the king, and Gorgin's guilt is made plain.'
'Taking revenge on him is no great feat; my spear does not falter before a mere wall.'
He shouted loudly at Gorgin, 'You wicked, foul, poisonous villain!'
'You have robbed me of my sun and my moon, the finest of riders, my very king.'
'You have thrown me into ceaseless running and struggle, wandering the world in search of a remedy.'
'Now, with your tricks and traps and deceit, where will you ever find rest, sleep, or peace?'
'You will have no power left, once I go and stand before the face of the king.'
'Then I will demand my vengeance from you, for the sake of my precious, world-beholding son.'
From there he went to the king, his eyes filled with tears of blood, his heart set on revenge.
He gave him blessing: 'O sovereign, may you always pass through the world in joy.'
'Long live our fortunate ruler of good stars! Do you not see what has befallen me?'
'I had one young son in all the world; day and night I was devoted to him.'
My heart was full of fear, I wept for him,
burning with the pain of our parting.
Now Gorgin has arrived, my king, off the road,
his tongue full of nonsense, his soul full of guilt.
He has brought terrible news of my son,
that famous, pure young man I entrusted to him.
'I saw a single horse, its saddle overturned;
no other sign of Bijan remains but this.'
If our commander would look on this matter fairly
and study it with care,
let the king give me justice against Gorgin,
for because of him I am left broken in the world.
Giv grew sick with grief in his heart;
he raged, then set down his royal crown.
The king's face went pale upon the throne;
his heart tightened with sorrow for Bijan.
Then he asked Giv: what did Gorgin say?
What does he claim, where did he lose his good companion?
So, based on Gorgin's account, Giv then
spoke with Khosrow about the brave young man.
When Khosrow heard Giv's words,
he told him: do not worry, do not mourn.
Bijan is alive, so be content;
keep your hope for the son who seems lost.
For I have heard this from the priests,
from the clear-hearted, renowned wise men:
that I, with the horsemen of Iran, for war
will go without delay toward the land of Turan.
To avenge Siyavash I will lead an army,
and with elephants I will overrun that country.
In that revenge Bijan will be there,
seeking battle like a demon.
Do not let your heart grieve over this matter;
I myself am the one who will demand his safety.
Giv left with a heart full of grief and pain,
both eyes brimming with tears, his face gone pale.
When Gorgin reached Khosrow's court,
he found the king emptied of his warriors.
Out of sorrow for Bijan, all the nobles,
all the chiefs, had left the court with Giv.
All full of pain, all full of anguish,
like men who had lost a hundred kinds of treasure.
Their minds scattered, their hearts scattered,
they had turned the dust of the road to mud with their tears.
And from this side, Gorgin went distraught,
hurrying up to the palace hall.
When he came before Kaykhosrow, he kissed the ground
and offered his praise to the king.
The boar's tusks, gleaming like diamonds,
he placed before the throne and bowed low.
'May Khosrow be victorious in every task,
may all his days be like a festival of spring.'
'May the heads of your enemies be cut off with the shears,
severed just as these boar tusks were.'
When the king looked at the tusks,
he asked him: how was the journey?
'Where did Bijan become separated from you?
What trick did the demon play on him?'
When Khosrow said this, Gorgin stood there,
struck dumb, frozen on his feet.
He had no idea how to answer him;
he stood frozen in place, his face gone pale.
His tongue full of nonsense, his soul full of guilt,
his cheeks yellow, his body trembling in fear of the king.
When his words did not match one another,
the king grew furious and drove him from before the throne.
He saw him both reckless and treacherous,
and Khosrow opened his mouth with curses.
He said to him: Haven't you heard the old tale
that Dastan told from ancient days,
that if a lion sets out with malice against the house of Gudarz,
its days are numbered, its life is finished?
If it were not for the shame of a bad name,
and for a wretched fate before God,
I would order your head torn from your body
as though it were the head of a demon-bird.
Khosrow commanded the ironsmith:
Make heavy chains with riveted heads,
and at once put his feet in irons,
so the evil-minded man may take a lesson from his bonds.
Then he said to Giv: Gather your wits;
search for him everywhere, in every direction, and strive.
I will now send troops in great numbers to every side
to seek him and look in every place.
Perhaps we will find some news of Bizhan;
let us hurry to this task with clear minds.
And if word of him comes slowly,
do not empty your heart of reason.
Wait until the month of Farvardin comes,
when the sun of the faith brightens the world.
In that time when the breeze seats you among the flowers,
and the wind scatters blossoms over your head,
when the earth puts on its green cloak,
and the air sighs tenderly over the flowers,
when the worship our God has commanded
carries our decree purely to every side,
I will call for that world-revealing cup;
I will stand before God in prayer,
where all seven regions of the earth lie within it,
and I will see the land and soil of every region.
I will bless my ancestors,
my chosen kings and my pure forebears.
Then I will tell you wherever Bizhan is;
in that cup this becomes clear to me.
When Giv heard these words, he grew glad,
and he was freed from grief for his son.
He laughed and blessed the king:
May time and earth never be without you.
May the high heavens turn to your desire;
may harm never touch your life.
May the Giver of good things bless you,
for the crown and the royal ring befit you well.
When Giv left Khosrow's throne,
he swiftly sent riders in every direction.
They began searching all around the world,
hoping to find some trace of him somewhere.
They crossed the whole land of Arman and of the Turanians,
but no sign of Bizhan appeared.
When the blessed New Year drew near at last,
the king felt the need for that bright cup.
The champion came, his heart still full of hope, bent and trembling for the sake of his son.
When King Khosrow saw Giv's withered face, he saw a heart wounded through with grief.
He came and put on a Roman robe, so that he might stand before God.
He cried out before the Creator of the world, and offered praise many times toward the sun.
From the one who answers cries he begged for strength and aid; against the wicked demon he sought justice.
Then he came out gracefully at the right moment and set the blessed crown upon his head.
He held in his hand a goblet filled with wine, and within it the seven regions of the world appeared.
The time, the signs of the lofty sky, all were revealed there: the how, the why, the how much.
From Pisces in the goblet all the way to Aries, every figure of the zodiac was painted, one and all.
Saturn, Mars, Venus and the Lion, the Sun and Mercury above, and the Moon below.
All that was to happen lay within it, and the wise, magic-knowing king could see it.
He looked, then set the goblet before him, and saw within it all that would come to pass, from beginning to end.
He gazed across all seven regions, yet found no trace of Bizhan anywhere.
He reached the land of the Wolf-heads, and by God's will he caught sight of him there.
Bound in a pit under heavy chains, in his misery he was longing for death.
And a girl of royal Kayanid blood had girded herself to care for him.
Then the king turned his face toward Giv, smiled, and the whole court grew bright.
He said: Bizhan is alive, so gladden your heart; keep the noble one free from every harm.
Do not grieve over prison and chains, since no injury has come to his life.
For Bizhan is bound in Turan, and his nurse is a renowned girl.
From all his pain and hardship and sorrow, I too have grown full of grief at his plight.
He passes his days in such a way that at every moment his nurse weeps over him.
Cut off from kin and family with no hope left, swaying like a single willow branch.
His two eyes full of blood, his heart full of pain, his tongue full of memories of his kin.
Weeping like the spring clouds pour down, in that living state he keeps seeking death.
Now, for this remedy, who will stir from his place? Who will rise, girded, to set this right?
Who has enough loyalty for this task of ours to bring him free from such hardship?
None can do it but Rostam of the fierce grip, who can haul a crocodile up from the deep sea.
Fasten your belt and set out toward the south; do not slacken the journey, neither by night nor by day.
Carry my letter to Rostam, and do not delay this tale upon the road.