English
Section 11: The Dispatch and Rostam's Campaign
He called in the seasoned scribe and told him everything that needed to be set down.
He ordered a royal letter written in Pahlavi, the ink scented with amber.
The letter opened with praise of God, who is and who remains forever.
He who adorns the moon, Saturn, and the sun, who shapes glory, crown, and strength.
He made the heavens, time, and earth; he gave soul and wisdom and created faith.
And may His blessing rest upon the king, and may the world never lose his memory.
By your command I arrived between two mountains, where the armies of two nations had massed together.
The enemy's swordsmen in the battle surely numbered more than a hundred thousand.
Men of Kashan, Soghd, China, and India, an army stretching from China to the sea of Sind.
From Kashmir to the banks of the honey river, we saw pavilions, elephants, and litters.
I did not fear, trusting in the king's fortune, that ruin might come out of this battlefield.
For forty days we fought together; you would think the world had grown too narrow for them.
They were all rulers of their lands, not weaklings, and their fortune was not thin.
Between the two mountains, across meadow and plain, there was no passing through for the blood and the slain.
For some forty leagues, it seems, the earth was mud, kneaded everywhere with blood.
If I speak at length of this long, victorious campaign, this letter will only grow longer.
All the rulers who wear chains I dragged from their elephants with the loop of my lasso.
My mind and my face are now set on battle; perhaps that renegade will come before my mace.
May all tongues be full of your praise; may the vault of the turning sky be your ground.
When the letter was sealed, he gave it to the noble Fariborz of royal descent.
With a king, an elephant, and a thousand camels, they loaded up and set out from that battlefield.
Fariborz, son of Kavus, went off joyfully, hurrying eagerly toward Khosrow.
The mighty champion went with him, along with the nobles and heroes of that gathering.
To say farewell, he took him in his arms and wept out of sorrow for the king.
From there he led back toward the army as the curling locks of night appeared.
They sat down in peace with lute and wine, a harp in one hand, a reed pipe in the other.
Then each went off to his own rest, each embracing his own desire.
When the sun, in its yellow silk, laid its harsh light upon the heap of lapis sky,
at once, from the entrance of the royal tent, the blast of the trumpet rose up.
The mighty one girded himself for the charge and mounted that swift-footed steed.
He ordered provisions taken up, and they left the hard road behind them.
They crossed the desert and the long road; such a battle-ready army came marching on.
He said to Tus, Gudarz, and Giv: 'You famous names, you brave heroes,
this time I will seize the fight in my grip, and things will grow tight for those who wish us ill.
Who could have known that this scheming man of Sind would bring an army from China, the Slavs, and India?
I will leave him so drunk and senseless that I will make his body the grave-dust of Siyavash,
so that from India, the Slav lands, Turan, and China, no one will ever again sing his praise.'
He struck the war drum, and dust rose from the plain; the air filled with dust, the ground with men.
From those quarrelsome, famous warriors, a great clamor rose up into the clouds.
They marched two stages from that place, where the face of the world was black with the slain.
They saw a woodland and came down to it; the whole plain and river turned dark with troops.
There they stayed in revelry, wine in hand, one happy and glad, another sleeping drunk.
Envoys came from every land, from every noble and every chief.
Many gifts, fine goods, and offerings they brought to that famous hero.
When a few days had passed in this tale, the lofty sky rested from its turning.
Someone came to the king of Iran's army: 'Fariborz, King Kavus's son, has arrived.'
The king of the brave went out to meet him with horn and drum and a heavy army.
Fariborz reached Khosrow, and when he saw him, he kissed the ground.
Khosrow looked at those prisoners, the camels, the elephants, and the wounded.
He turned his reins and came onto the road, and lifted the royal crown from his head.
He dismounted and rolled in the dust before God, and said: 'O pure Lord of the world,
a tyrant wronged me and left me fatherless, in pain and grief.
You freed me from pain and hardship, and nurtured me for the crown.
Earth and time became my servants; a whole world was filled from my treasury.
I thank you, not the gathering of men; only, do not take Rostam's life from me.'
He spurred his horse and turned back from there, passing by that elephant and those prisoners.
He lavished praise upon the champion: 'May he be joyful and bright of soul.'