English
The Sons of Esfandiar Are Slain
When the battle of the champions dragged on, the proud Rostam was slow to return.
Zavareh brought up the army from his side, a force with wounded hearts and thirsty for revenge.
He asked the Iranians: Where is Rostam? Why is he silent, wasting this whole day?
You came to fight beside Rostam, striding boldly into the jaws of the crocodile.
Will you not lend Rostam a hand? This is no battlefield to sit idle on.
Then Zavareh opened his lips to curses, hurling out ugly words.
At this, a son of Esfandiar flared up, a famous rider who could bring down a horse and its man.
A young man named Nush-Azar, proud, warlike, and full of joy.
That renowned youth raged at the man of Sistan and loosed his tongue in scornful curses.
He said: Yes, that arrogant fellow does his evil deeds only at his kings' command.
The hero Esfandiar never ordered us to make war on such dogs as these.
Who would turn from his will and command? Who would dare break the pact he made?
If you insist on this crooked, unjust fight, then be quick to strike the first blow.
Come see how warriors truly clash, with sword and spearpoint and heavy mace.
Zavareh gave the order: Lay into them! Crown the chiefs' heads with a diadem of blood.
Zavareh came to the front of the army, and a roar rose from the field of battle.
They killed countless Iranians; when Nush-Azar saw this, he readied himself.
He mounted his proud chestnut steed and came forward, an Indian blade in his hand.
There was a famous man named Alva, proud, a bringer-down of horses, full of joy.
It was he who carried Rostam's spear; he never let anyone slip past behind him.
When Nush-Azar saw him from afar, his hand flew and he drew his sword from its sheath.
He struck one blow to Alva's head and neck; that elephant-bodied man split in two.
Zavareh spurred on his warhorse and shouted fiercely at Nush-Azar:
Now that you have felled him, stand your ground, for I will no longer count Alva among the riders.
Zavareh drove a spear into his chest, and at once his head fell to the dust.
When the famous Nush-Azar was slain, his army was routed for the whole day.
His brother, weeping, his heart boiling, a young man whose name was Mehrnush,
The swordsman's heart filled with grief, and he spurred on that elephant-bodied steed.
He rode out from the ranks to the front line, foam of heartsick rage on his lips.
From the other side came Faramarz, like a drunken elephant, an Indian blade in his hand.
Mehrnush grappled with him, and a cry rose from both armies.
Two noble, battle-seeking young men: one a prince, the other a champion.
Like warring lions they raged, hammering blows on one another.
On the field Mehrnush pressed hard, but he had no strength to match Faramarz.
Faramarz struck his own horse's neck with the sword and sent the swift beast's head down before him.
Faramarz destroyed him on foot; the battlefield dust turned red as a ruby with blood.
When Bahman saw his brother slain, the earth beneath him soaked like wet clay with blood,
He came running to Esfandiar, to where the fire of battle raged.
He said: O fierce and roaring lion, an army from Sistan has come to fight.
Your two sons, Nush-Azar and Mehrnush, gave up their lives in shame to the man of Sistan.
You are locked in single combat, and we are full of grief; our young men and royal-born lie in the dust.
This disgrace will cling to our line forever, born of the deeds of fools.
The hero's mind grew sharper with rage, his brain aflame and his eyes brimming with tears.
He said to Rostam: You man of ill omen, is this the pact of proud warriors?
You said you would not bring an army into the fight. You have no care for honor or for shame.
You feel no shame before me or before God; you do not fear the questioning on Judgment Day.
Do you not know that men who break their word are never praised among the people?
Two men of Sistan have killed my two sons and gone back to boast of that outrage.
When Rostam heard this, he grieved deeply and trembled like a branch on a tree.
He swore by the life and head of the king, by the sun, by the sword, by the field of war,
That he had never ordered this fight, and that he praised no one who had done such a thing.
I will now bind my brother's two hands, if it was he who led the way to this evil.
I will also bring Faramarz, his two hands bound, before the God-worshiping king.
Kill them in payment for the blood of your noble sons, but do not let this thought unsettle your good sense in vain.
Esfandiar said to Rostam: To avenge a male peacock by spilling a snake's blood,
That would be foul and unworthy; it is not the way of proud kings.
You, man of ill omen, prepare your own remedy, for your time has closed in tight upon you.
I will now pin you to Rakhsh through both your thighs with an arrow, blending you together as milk blends with water.
So that no servant, from this day on, will ever seek to avenge himself on his lord.
And if you stay alive, I will bind your hands and take you at once before the king.
Rostam said to him: What comes of all this talk, except that my honor is diminished?
Take refuge in God and turn to God, for it is He who guides in good and ill.