English
Rustam Faces Shangul
Shangul roared before his army: I am the warrior, the hero, and I want this fight.
He said: Tell me where that man from Sistan is; I mean to level my spear straight at him.
When Shangul's voice reached Rustam, he scanned the enemy ranks and spotted him.
He said to him: Here I am, ready for battle; watch that you don't run for cover in your own army.
Rustam said: From the Creator I have asked for nothing so openly as this,
that some stranger from that great host would grow bold and seek a fight with me.
Neither Saqlab nor India will be left of them, neither Indian sword nor Chinese blade.
I will leave no root or branch of them standing; of these Turks I will leave neither head nor hand nor foot.
He came at Shangul and cried aloud: You ill-bred, low-born wretch,
Zal the golden named me Rustam; why, base one, do you call me the Sistani dog?
Look now, this Sistani is your death; your coat of mail and helmet will surely be your shroud.
He circled with him on the battlefield, the armies drawn up between the two lines.
He drove a spear, lifted him from the saddle, flipped him over and slammed him to the ground.
He rode over him, and then the lionhearted one first took him with his sword.
From that side the champions rushed in, their poison-tempered blades flashing.
When Shangul fled from the elephant-bodied hero, that whole host scattered.
He killed two thirds of them by the sword; the brave men of Turan turned their backs.
Shangul escaped from Rustam's hand with his life, for mail and armor first shielded his body.
Shangul said: This is no man; he has no equal in the world.
He is a raging elephant on a mountain's back; only if the whole host attacks at once can we fight him.
No one seeks single combat with a dragon; if he does, he finds no escape.
The Khaqan said to him: This morning your plan and your resolve were different.
He ordered the army to charge together, all as one, like a moving mountain,
to surround the proud hero and take the life of that mighty body.
Then the lionhearted one struck with the sword and broke the Chinese army's left wing.
Every time he swung his blade, he strewed the whole path with headless bodies.
Against his fighting the mountain had no footing; against his fury the elephant had no place.
They pressed around him so thickly that the sun went dark above his head.
So many spears, daggers, maces, and arrows were aimed at the lion-taking champion
that you would think he had gone into a reed thicket, the land turned crimson with blood into a wine-house.
With a single blow he cut ten spears clean, roaring and seething, and the enemy dismayed.
The brave men of Iran stood behind him, hearts filled with vengeance and hungry for battle.
From the mass of spears, maces, clubs, and swords, you would say hail was pouring from a cloud.
The whole battlefield was covered with the slain: bodies and backs and heads, helmets and caps,
of Chinese and Shignani and Hindu, of Saqlabi and Herati and Pahlavi.
The army lay like dust at the foot of a mountain, all crushed by a single man from Sistan,
a man against whom in battle there is no standing, whose skill in leading war has no match in the world.
Anyone who tells this as a tale, no wise man will agree with him,
that a hundred thousand famous fighters were not enough against a single horseman.
From this feud harm came to Afrasiyab; because of Rustam he could find no rest or sleep.
Rustam said to the Iranians: From this battle the enemy will lose his life.
This very moment, from their elephants and their treasure, the same throne and that adorned crown,
I will seize from the Chinese and give to Iran, and by that make this day blessed and joyful.
None but the Iranians shall rejoice; Rakhsh's hooves and God's help are enough for me.
Of the Shignani, the Saqlabi, and the Chinese, I will leave not one to set foot on the earth.
For today is our day of victory; the high heavens light up our army.
If the just Judge grants strength and Rakhsh's shining courage shows itself,
I will make this plain a graveyard, and turn the flourishing land into a walled city of the dead.
Some of you head toward the enemy host; make your effort and race like the wind.
When I move from my place, strike hard; you raise the cymbals and the trumpets.
Turn the whole earth black as ebony with the dust of horsemen and the din of drums.
Pound with clubs and heavy maces the way smiths hammer down steel.
Have no fear of their vast numbers; lift the very dust of the sea up to the clouds.
Keep all your eyes on my helmet; when I roar, charge and strike.
Tear apart the ranks of Saqlab and China, so the earth cannot even glimpse the sky.
From there he went like a maddened elephant, an ox-headed mace in his hand.
Roaring, he made for the right wing, and first came against Kundur out of the army.
He tore the whole right wing utterly to pieces; many a helmet and head never saw its body again.