English
Rostam and Esfandiar
So Rostam spoke to Esfandiar: What we do is what remains of us.
Now be fair and listen to the words of this famous old man.
If I had not marched into Mazandaran, my heavy mace lifted upon my shoulder,
where Giv and Kavus and Tus lay chained, their ears deafened by the war drums,
who else could tear the heart and brain from the White Demon? Who else trusts his own arm that far?
I ripped the sorcerers' heads from their bodies; they got no grave, no shroud, no tomb.
I freed the king from his heavy chains and brought him to the throne; Iran rejoiced and he was blessed with fortune.
In the Seven Trials my Rakhsh was my ally, and my sharp sword was what saved the world.
And later, when he went to Hamavaran, they bound his feet with heavy shackles.
I led an army of Iranians to a land ruled by chieftains and princes.
I killed their king in battle and emptied his famous throne.
The world's ruler, Kavus, lay imprisoned, his heart broken by suffering and grief.
I brought Kavus out of prison, and Giv and Gudarz and Tus with him.
At that time Afrasiab held Iran, and the world was full of pain from that evil-minded man.
I marched from Hamavaran into Iran, myself and the king with a boundless army.
In the dark night I rode out alone; I sought only glory, not my own rest.
When he saw my flashing banner and the neighing of Rakhsh reached his ears,
he abandoned Iran and fled toward China; the world filled with justice and praise.
If blood had flowed from Kavus's line, how would Siavash have sprung from his loins,
and from him the pure and noble King Kaykhosrow, who set the crown on Lohrasp's head?
My father, that brave and worthy man, ate dust from the shame of it in that assembly,
that Lohrasp had to be called king, though no great name of his lasted in the world.
Why boast about this crown of Goshtasp, this new-fangled rule of Lohrasp?
Who is he to say, Go bind Rostam's hands? Not even the high heavens can bind my hands.
If heaven itself told me, Hear this and obey, I would box its ears with my heavy mace.
From childhood until I grew old, I never spoke this way to anyone.
Pleading and begging demean me; this soft talk only wears me down.
Esfandiar smiled at his sharp words, reached out and gripped his hand firmly.
He said: Rostam, you elephant of a man, you are just as I heard in the gatherings.
Your arm is thick as a lion's thigh, your shoulders like a bold dragon.
Your waist is trim and narrow like a leopard's, especially when your hand takes up the mace.
He squeezed his hand hard in the middle of speaking; the old man laughed at the youth.
Yellow fluid ran from under his nails, yet the man did not flinch at the pain.
Then Rostam took the prince's hand in his and said: You god-fearing king,
how blessed is King Goshtasp, that famous man, to have a son like Esfandiar.
Blessed is he who fathers a son like you, who adds to the splendor of the world.
He said this while gripping his hand so hard that the prince's face went red as blood.
He filled his nails with blood, and the commander's brows twisted in pain.
But blessed Esfandiar laughed and said: Famous Rostam,
drink your wine today, for tomorrow you will writhe in battle and forget all feasting.
When I set this golden saddle on my horse and place the royal crown on my head,
I will throw you from your horse to the ground with my spear; after that you will seek no more strife or revenge.
I will bind your two hands and lead you to the king, and tell him I found no fault in you.
We will stand before him and plead, and work out every kind of settlement.
I will free you from grief and pain and suffering; after hardship you will find kindness and treasure.
Rostam laughed at Esfandiar and said: You will grow sick of war soon enough.
Where have you ever seen the battle of true warriors? Where have you felt the wind of a heavy mace?
If the heavens do not turn some other way, love may veil the faces of two men.
Instead of red wine we will bring red vengeance, the lasso of combat and the ambush.
For the sound of the lute we will want the roar of war drums; our greeting will be sword and battle club.
Then you will see, blessed Esfandiar, the surge and turning of real war.
When you come tomorrow to the field of battle and man closes with man in combat,
I will lift you from your horse into my arms and carry you off the field to Zal.
I will seat you on the famous ivory throne and place the heart-gladdening crown on your head.
The treasure I received from Kayqobad, may his soul rejoice forever in paradise,
I will open its doors and lay every riches out before you, all arrayed.
I will make your army free of every want and raise your crown up to the heavens.
Then I will come before the king, strutting and laughing and cheerful on the road.
By my own valor I will set the crown on your head and lay this duty of gratitude upon Goshtasp.
After that I will bind the belt around my waist, just as I bound it before the kings of old.
I will clear the whole garden field of weeds and renew my own body with joy.
When you are king and I am champion, no living soul will dare stand against us.