English
The Words of Daqiqi
When the army's commander came from sunlit Balkh and reached the Oxus, he had the troops make camp.
The king left the ranks of the army, dismounted from his horse, and took his seat on the throne.
He summoned the honored Jamasp, the one who served as guide and counselor to Gushtasp.
He was chief of the priests and lord among the wise, the shining lamp of the great and of the generals.
So pure in body and so bright in spirit was he that what was hidden lay open before his eyes.
He was an astrologer and a man of great worth; in knowledge, who could stand at his level?
The king asked him and said: God has given you faith through justice and a clear, pure mind.
There is no one like you in all the world; the Lord of the world gave knowledge to you alone.
You must reckon it out from the stars and tell me how this matter will unfold.
How will the war begin and how will it end, and which side will linger longer here?
This did not sit well with old Jamasp; with a grim face he said to Gushtasp:
I wish the just God had never given me this wisdom and this skill.
Had I no wisdom, the king would not have asked me to reveal what is to come.
Unless he first makes a just pledge with me: that he will do no harm and give no such order.
The world-seeker said: By the name of God, and by this faith, bring me a pure resolve.
By the life of Zarir, that battle-hardened rider, and by the life of the noble Esfandiar,
I will never turn against you as an enemy, nor order harm to you, nor do it myself.
Say all that you know about this matter, for you know the remedy and I am the one seeking it.
The wise man said: O honored king, may your crown stay ever fresh upon you.
Do not torment your servant, and cast off your anger; happy is the one whose eyes never witness this.
Know this, O glory-seeking warrior: when you go into battle face to face,
at the moment they raise the war cries and the shouting, you would think they are tearing the mountains apart.
Brave men press forward, and the sky grows dark with the dust of combat.
You will see the world turned blue-black, the earth full of fire, the air full of smoke.
And from the blows of those heavy maces, like the steel hammers of the blacksmiths,
a clanging and ringing reaches your ears, the air filled with the neighing of chestnut and white horses.
The wheels of the chariots are broken, and the ground turns red with all that blood.
You would think the sky was carrying clouds, and that from those clouds it rained down diamonds.
You will see many a son left without a father, and many a father left without a son.
The first among the renowned is Ardashir, and after him the king, that bold and battle-hardened man.
He drove his galloping horse ahead and threw to the ground everyone who came before him.
That Turk unhorsed so many riders that their number was beyond counting.
But in the end he will be killed, and his good name will be written down forever.
What a pity for such a famous man, a leader among all the noble and brave.
Then the noble Shidasp, the king's son, will charge at the army like Rostam.
Then he will draw his sword, ride hard, and cut down many an enemy.
Many famous men and champions of China that lion of a warrior will bring down to the earth.
In the end his fortune will lay him low and strip the crown from his head.
Then my own son will come, my dearest one, his belt tightened for battle.
To avenge Shidasp, the king's son, he will drive his black horse swiftly onto the field.
He will endure great hardship in the fight; I will tell you, king of kings, how it goes.
When the Iranians have let the shining Kaviani banner fall,
the dear one will seize the banner in his teeth, holding the purple standard clamped in his jaws.
A sword in one hand, his helmet in the other, and the banner of King Fereydun in his teeth,
in this way he keeps cutting down the foe and tearing the life from those devils.
In the end he too will be killed in battle, and his good name will be written down forever.
Then the noble Bastur, son of Zarir, will drive his horse ahead like a fierce lion.
He will make many enemies vanish; no one has seen anything more astonishing than his deeds.
When he comes back victorious at last, his hand raised in triumph over the enemy,
then that chosen horseman will come forward, and behind him the famed king of the world.
He will bring down sixty of those devils and show the strength of a true champion.
In the end the Turks will strike him with arrows and cast his elephant-strong body to the ground.
Then that fierce, brave lion will come, the daring rider whose name is Zarir.
He will ride forward, his lasso in hand, seated on his swift Esfandiari steed.
In golden armor gleaming like the moon, the enemy army struck dumb before him.
He will capture a thousand of their champions, bind them, and send them to the king.
Wherever that king turns his face, he drives a river of the enemy's blood before him.
No one can stand against that champion of the king; he will wear down the ruler in his royal tent.
Then great Ardeshir will see him struck down, his face gone dark and his body yellow as the wild rue.
He will weep bitterly for him and grow heartsick, and spur on his Esfandiari steed.
He turns toward the Khan, fierce and full of rage,
as if he had never once known retreat.
When he spots Arjasp in the thick of the fight,
he praises King Gushtasp aloud.
He tears the enemy ranks apart from end to end,
looking at no one else in all the world.
He recites the Zend of Zoroaster,
his royal back braced against God alone.
But in the end his luck turns dark,
and it strips him of that fine crown and throne.
A man will come whose name is Bidirafsh;
on his spear he carries a purple banner.
He dares not face that chosen hero head on,
so he lies in ambush along his path.
He stands there in the road like a maddened elephant,
a poison-tempered blade in his hand.
When the king of the world turns back from battle,
having conquered the world and slain Gurazm,
that Turk hurls a spear into his back,
not daring to come at him openly.
So by the hand of that filthy Bidirafsh
the king of the free will vanish from sight.
He carries off his horse and saddle to the Turks,
and your son will then avenge his death.
Then that great and famous army
falls upon the foe like a mighty lion.
They charge, this one at that, that one at this,
and the earth turns red with the blood of heroes.
The warriors' faces all go pale,
as even the manliest men begin to tremble.
The army's dust rises up to the sun,
and no one can see the road through the dark haze.
The glint of spearpoint, arrow, and sword
flashes like a star through the clouds.
And from the blows the warriors strike,
they keep cutting one another down.
All lie wounded and slain upon each other:
son upon father, father upon son.
From the moaning and wailing of the wounded,
even the unbound fall into captivity.
So many soldiers are killed on every side
that the battlefield is filled with their blood.
Then that filthy, hulking Bidirafsh
comes forward like a savage wolf.
With the poison-tempered blade in his hand,
he drives his horse on like a maddened elephant.
By his hand a great many soldiers,
the king's chosen men, are destroyed.
Then the blessed Esfandiar comes,
his army at his back and God as his ally.
He drives his swift horse at Bidirafsh,
his clothes soaked in blood, his heart full of fight.
He strikes him with an Indian sword
and splits his body from the waist down.
Then he takes up that iron mace,
swinging it with all his glory and strength.
With a single charge he breaks their ranks apart,
and once he has broken them, he leaves none standing.
He impales them on his spearpoint,
ruins them all and scatters them.
In the end the lord of China will flee before Esfandiar, that blessed champion.
He will turn back toward the Turks in flight, his shield shattered, his spears cast down.
He will cross the desert with a handful of troops; the king will triumph and the enemy will be ruined.
Know, chosen king of kings, that all I have foretold will surely come to pass.
There is no more and no less to this than what I say; do not turn your face against me in anger from now on.
For everything I said, I said only at your command, victorious king.
And I said nothing about this deep sea and this dark road unless the fortunate king asked me.
I saw no reason to hide anything from the king; otherwise, why would I ever have told this secret?
When the king who rules the world heard the secret, he sank back against the corner of his throne.
The golden mace fell from his hand; you would think his glory and might had drained away.
He fell forward and lost consciousness; he spoke no more and fell silent.
When the world's king came to his senses, he came down from the throne and wept bitterly.
What use are kingship and the throne to me, when my days are about to turn black?
For those who are dearest to me are the choicest and most renowned of the army.
They are marching off, and they will go from before me, tearing this wounded heart from my body.
He said to Jamasp: if this is how things stand, when the time comes to go to battle,
I will not summon my brother to the fight, I will not set my aged mother's heart on fire.
I will not order him to war either; I will hand the army over to fortunate Gorazm.
My royal sons and young men, each of them dear to me as my own life,
I will call them all, every one, before me; I will not let them put on armor, I will keep them at my side.
How can the tip of a poplar-wood arrow reach a mountain of stone that towers into the sky?
The wise man said to the king of the earth: O gracious and blessed lord,
if these men are not at the front of the army, wearing the royal crown upon their heads,
who will dare to stand against the Turks of China and bring back the glory of the pure faith?
Rise from this dust and go up to your throne; do not squander the glory of kingship.
This is God's justice, and there is no escaping it; the Lord of the world is not a tyrant.
Grieving will do you no good; what was meant to be has been, and the deed is done.
Do not make your heart more sorrowful than this; be content with the judgment of the world's God.
He gave him much counsel, and the king listened; when the sky turned the color of the sun he rose to his throne.
He took his seat on the throne and set his heart on battle with the world-seeking king of Chagil.
The worries in his heart drove sleep away;
he was seized by haste for both battle and feast.