English
Rostam and Ashkbus
There was a bold warrior named Ashkbus who roared like a war drum.
He came to seek battle from Iran, to grind an opponent's head into the dust.
Rooham rushed out in helmet and armor; the dust of combat rose to the clouds.
Rooham grappled with Ashkbus, and from both armies rose the sound of horns and drums.
He began raining arrows on that famous man; his bow lay in ambush for the riders.
The warrior was covered in steel, and the arrows struck his mail swift as the wind.
The arrows had no effect on his armor, and this only made the fighter's heart fiercer.
Ashkbus reached for his heavy mace; the earth turned to iron, the sky to ebony.
Rooham drew out his heavy mace; the chiefs' arms grew weary from the fight.
When Rooham was worn down by the man of Kashan, he turned his face away and fled toward the mountain.
From the center of the army Toos grew troubled and spurred his horse to reach Ashkbus.
Rostam grew angry and said to Toos: Rooham's true partner is a cup of wine.
He plays the swordsman only over drinks, and struts proudly among the heroes.
Why has his face gone pale as wax now? Was that rider any less than Ashkbus?
You keep the center of the army in good order; I will now take the fight on foot.
He slung his strung bow over his shoulder and fixed a few arrows to his belt.
He shouted: You, man who tests yourself in battle, your match has come; do not turn away.
The Kashani laughed and stared in wonder; he reined in his horse and called Rostam over.
Laughing, he asked: What is your name? Who will weep for your headless body?
Rostam answered: Why ask my name? After this you will see no more good fortune.
My mother named me your death; fate made me the hammer for your helmet.
The Kashani said to him: Without a mount, you hand your head over to be killed all at once.
Rostam gave him this answer: You empty, quarrel seeking man,
Have you never seen a man wage war on foot, and bring the heads of the proud beneath a stone?
In your city do lion, crocodile, and leopard all come to battle mounted, all three?
Right now, you battle rider, I will teach you how war is fought on foot.
Toos sent me on foot so that I might take a horse from Ashkbus.
When a Kashani ends up on foot like me, both sides of the crowd will laugh.
One footman is worth more than five hundred riders like you on a day like this and in this turn of battle.
The Kashani said to him: I see no weapon on you, nothing but mockery and jest.
Rostam said to him: bring your arrow and bow, and see for yourself how your time runs out this very moment.
When he saw how proud Ashkbus was of his fine horse, he strung his bow and drew it back.
He shot a single arrow into the flank of that horse, and the animal pitched forward and crashed to the ground.
Rostam laughed and called out aloud: sit down beside your precious partner.
It would suit you to cradle its head in your lap and rest a while from the fight.
At once Ashkbus strung his bow, his body trembling, his face pale as wax.
Then he rained arrows down on Rostam. The mighty hero told him: this is all for nothing.
You are only wearing yourself out, straining both your arms and your wretched, scheming soul.
The champion reached to the fastening at his belt and chose a single shaft of poplar wood.
An arrow with a diamond head, its point bright as water, fitted with four eagle feathers.
Rostam gripped the bow and worked it in his fist, and set the poplar shaft against the string.
He bent the right side left and the left side right, and a groan rose from the curve of the Chach bow.
When the arrow's notch reached the width of his ear, the horn-tipped bow gave out a cry.
When the point kissed the tip of his finger, it flew and passed straight through the spine of Ashkbus.
It struck the chest and breast of Ashkbus; in that instant the heavens themselves kissed Rostam's hand.
Fate said 'seize him,' destiny said 'deliver,' the sky cried 'bravo,' and the moon said 'well done.'
The Kushan warrior gave up his life on the spot; it was as if his mother had never borne him.
The two armies stood watching them, keeping their eyes on the battle of champions.
Kamus and the Khaqan of China gazed on that stature and height, that strength and fury.
The moment Rostam turned back, the Khaqan sent a rider galloping out.
He pulled that famous arrow from the corpse, and drew it out soaked in blood right up to its feathers.
The whole army passed the arrow around, and every one of them took it for a spear.
When the Khaqan looked at the feathers and the head of that arrow, his young heart turned old.
He said to Piran: who is this man? What is his name among the champions of Iran?
You told me they were rather worthless, the lowest in rank among the proud warriors.
Now their arrow is as good as a spear, and the heart of a lion falters in fighting them.
You made light of every word; it turned out to be nothing like what you claimed, from start to finish.
Piran said to him: among the army of Iran I know no one of this rank.
An arrow that drives clean through a tree, I do not know what this ill-starred man has in his heart.
Among the Iranians, Giv and Tus are true men, brave and majestic on the day of battle.
My brother Human, right before Tus, turned the world dark as ebony with his fighting.
I don't know who this man in Iran is, nor who among their army could match him.
I will go and ask at the royal tent, so they can somehow bring out his name.
He came deep in thought, his face gone pale, and questioned those famous warriors.
Human the brave said this to Piran: a wise man never underestimates his enemy.
The nobles of Iran are full of spirit; you would think they could tear iron apart.
Now that this army has arrived from Iran, they roar in triumph from the battlefield.
Piran said to him: no matter how many horsemen come from Iran to help Tus,
as long as Rostam is not there, I have no fear; Gorgin and Bizhan do not tear at my heart.
The army faces two hard battles ahead; let each man seek to make his own name.
From there he went to Kamus, hurrying to Manshur and Fartus.
He said: today a great battle was fought, and out of the sheep a wolf appeared.
See what the remedy for this is, and why we suffer these wounds.
Kamus said: today's fighting was such that our name has fallen into disgrace.
In the battle Ashkbus was killed, and the hearts of Giv and Tus were gladdened by it.
My heart split in two over that foot soldier, for our whole army was filled with dread of him.
There is no man on earth of his stature; in this army there is no equal for him.
You saw his bow, and the arrow is right here; in strength he surpasses a raging elephant.
Surely that warlike man of Sistan, the one you kept telling me so much about,
has come on foot to this battlefield; he has come to help the Iranian army.
Piran said to him: that one is different, a proud horseman and a mighty champion.
Then the sharp-witted man grew afraid, for his heart was bound up in that task.
He asked Piran: that lion of a man, how does he move across the field of war?
What mark do you have of his arm and his chest? What does he say when he faces rebels?
What is his courage and his bearing like? How should I go to fight him?
If it truly is he who has come by the road, then I must go out to the field of combat.
Piran said to him: God forbid that he come here and think of battle.
You would see a man straight as a young cypress, splendid and graced with glory to look upon.
There were many battlefields where Afrasiab was left writhing before him, his eyes full of tears.
He is a maker of war and devoted to his king; he is the first to reach for the sword.
He fights to avenge Siavash, the child he once raised in his own arms.
Many warriors have tested themselves against him, but no one can bear the weight of his weapons.
If on the day of battle he throws his mace to the ground, even a mighty warrior cannot lift it again.
His bowstring is made of lion hide; a single one of his arrowheads weighs ten silver coins.
When he goes to war he puts on his mail and fastens a coat of armor tight upon his body.
He has a garment made of leopard skin; he wears it over all and steps into the fight.
It is called the babr-e bayan; he trusts it more than any quilted coat or armor.
It neither burns in fire nor soaks in water; when he wears it, it is as if wings sprout from him.
Beneath him rides a warhorse; you would say Mount Bisotun itself had begun to move.
It strikes fire from earth and stone, and in the din of war it never rests.
With such a marvel on the day of battle, it would be right not to count him as merely a man.
When the shrewd Kamus heard this, he gave his eyes and ears entirely to Piran.
It seems the words pleased him well; they fired up his eagerness for the fight.
He said to Piran: O commander, keep your heart alert and your mind clear.
Choose whatever solemn oath you wish, the kind that fortunate kings have sworn.
I will swear even more than that, right here before you, so that your heart and faith may be at ease.
By the power of God, of Saturn and the Sun, I will not lift my saddle from this chestnut horse's back,
until I brighten your fortune and your counsel, and make the world as narrow as a needle's eye for them.
Piran called down many blessings on him: O king, clear-sighted and true of tongue,
with such a frame, such shoulders, such arms and such stature, no wonder you are so gifted; it does not surprise me.
All our affairs will turn out as you wish; not much of our fighting remains.
Then he went around the whole army, passing by every tent and pavilion.
He said these words before the Khaqan of China, and spoke the same to every man.
When the sun turned the world to the color of a ruby, dark night set its foot upon the sky.
The bold warriors of the army gathered, those who were wise and skilled with the sword.
They came to the tent of the Khaqan of China, every heart full of war and vengeance.
Kamus, the lion man who unhorses his foes; and Manshur, and Fartus, the man of battle;
Shamiran, Shugni, and Shangul from India; and from Saqlab, men like Kundur and the king of Sind.
Each one gave his counsel for the coming battle, and everyone spoke much about Iran.
After that, they all agreed on one thing: that they must wash their hands, to the last man, in blood.
They each went off to rest, and slept content in their tents.
When the moon's back grew thin and bent, worn down by the dark tresses of the black night,
and when it drew close to the sun and set right, the sun rose, its face wet, and washed itself clean.
The armies of both nations began to boil, and a roar climbed to the high heavens.
The Khan of China spoke: Today's fight must not drag on and stall as yesterday's did.
We must assume that Piran is gone, yet without him we cannot leave the battle untried.
We have all come, one and all, ready for war; we came from a long road to give aid.
If today we stall as we did yesterday, we will drag our whole name down into shame.
And beyond that, tomorrow we would seek only thanks, rest, and sleep from Afrasiyab.
We must all fight together as one, advancing on the enemy army like a mountain.
From me you will receive gifts and Zabuli slaves, along with fine Kabuli robes.
Here there are proud champions from ten lands; this is no time to sit at sleep and food.
The nobles rose up from every side and made their plea to the Khan of China:
Today the command over the army is yours; all the lands of China and Turan are yours.
Just watch this battlefield today, where swords will rain down from a black cloud.
On this side Rustam spoke to the Persians: Now the time has come.
If a few of this army were killed, it was no more than one in three hundred, no more, no less.
So do not, any of you, let your hearts grow heavy; I will not keep my body alive without honor and name.
The whole Turkish army, after Ashkabus, marched off with faces pale as amber.
Now fill your hearts, every one, with vengeance; wrinkle your warlike brows into a scowl.
For today I have shod Rakhsh with iron, and I mean to dye the sword's edge red with blood.
Prepare yourselves, for today is a new day; the whole earth, from end to end, is Kai Khosrow's treasure.
Gird your waists, for from this battle you will all win crowns and earrings.
The nobles called out their blessings on him: Through you the crown and the signet ring shine bright.