English
Kavus Marches on Mazandaran
When Zal the commander set out from the frontier, the army followed at once, swift and eager.
The king ordered Tus and Gudarz to lead the troops and set them on the road.
When night turned to day, the king and his warriors turned their faces toward Mazandaran.
He handed the land of Iran over to Milad, along with the keys to the treasury, crown, and royal seal.
He told him: if an enemy appears, you must draw the sword of vengeance.
In any trouble, take refuge with Zal and Rostam, for they are the backbone of the army and the glory of the throne.
Next day the war drums thundered, and Gudarz and Tus drove the army forward.
Kavus, kindler of armies, moved on and pitched his throne at the foot of Mount Espruz.
In a place where the sun hides itself, there he settled to rest and sleep.
It was the haunt of cruel demons, a place that would terrify even an elephant.
He spread cloth of gold over the sheepskin, and the air was full of the scent of sweet wine.
All the fortunate champions took their seats around Kavus the king's throne.
All night they made merry with wine and feasting, until at dawn they rose from sleep.
Scattered, they gathered near the king, belts girt and helmets on.
Then the king ordered Giv to pick another thousand from the army,
men who could swing the heavy mace, to be the ones who would open the city of Mazandaran.
Every soul you find, old or young, leave a lifeless body where the living was.
Burn whatever you find still standing; spend the night wherever daylight leaves you.
Do this before word reaches the demons; sweep the whole world clean of them.
Giv girded his belt and left the king, choosing the bravest heroes from the army.
He advanced to the city of Mazandaran and rained down sword and heavy mace.
Woman, child, and man with staff in hand, none found mercy from the edge of his blade.
He plundered and burned the city, spilling poison where healing had once been.
He saw a city like highest paradise, its every gate opening onto delight.
In every quarter, more than a thousand handmaids wearing necklaces and earrings.
Even more attendants than that, wearing crowns, their faces bright as the shining moon.
Everywhere a treasure of scattered gold, in one place red coins and precious gems.
Countless livestock all around, as if it were paradise itself, right there in place.
They brought Kavus word of it, of that joyous place and its splendor.
He said: long live the one who said that Mazandaran is the twin of paradise.
The whole city seems like a temple of idols, adorned in Chinese silk over roses.
Truly its beauties are the beauties of paradise, their cheeks washed rosy by the angel Rezvan.
When a week had passed, the Iranians one and all loosened their belts from plundering.
Word reached the King of Mazandaran; his heart filled with grief and his head grew heavy.
Among the demons before him was Sanjeh, whose body and soul were pained by the news.
He told him: go to the White Demon, go as swiftly as sunlight across the turning sky.
Tell him: a mighty army has come from Iran to plunder Mazandaran,
with the world-seeker Kavus leading them, and a fresh army skilled in war.
Now if you do not come to our aid, you will find no one left alive in Mazandaran.
When Sanjeh heard the secret message, he repeated the king's words to the demon.
The White Demon answered him: do not despair of the turning of fate.
I will come now with a mighty army and wipe his tracks from Mazandaran.
Night came, and a cloud rose with the army, turning the world black as a Zangi's face.
The world seemed like a sea of pitch, all its light hidden away.
It raised a tent of smoke and tar overhead; the world went dark and eyes were dazzled blind.
When night passed and day drew near, the world-seeker's sight went dark.
Two thirds of the army had gone blind, and the heads of the great men were full of fury.
Many of them were destroyed as well; nothing was left of the ill-fated.
When King Kavus's sight went dark, disaster from his own deeds fell on the army.
All the treasure plundered, the army taken captive; young fortune and luck turned old.
Take this whole tale to heart, for it shows wonder upon bewildering wonder.
When the commander saw his suffering, he said: a wise counselor is better than treasure.
As hardship dragged on for a week, the Iranians could see no one at all.
On the eighth day the White Demon roared: you fruitless king, useless as a willow tree,
you paraded your supremacy and coveted the meadows of Mazandaran.
You saw your own strength like a mad elephant and would submit to no one.
Not content with crown and throne, you deceived your own reason this way.
Now here is what suits your deeds: your heart has found the desires it chased.
From among those dagger-wielding demons he chose twelve thousand fighters.
He set them as guards over the Iranians and filled the proud men's heads with grief.
They put all the leaders in chains, and when the binding and shackling was done,
they gave them only enough food to keep body and soul alive, day by day.
After that, all the treasure of the king of the world, the jeweled crown and the heavy mace,
everything he could see from end to end, he handed to Arzhang, chief of Mazandaran.
He said: go to the king and tell him, do not now look to Ahriman for excuses.
All the champions of Iran and their king can see neither the bright sun nor the moon.
I did not threaten them with death, so that the king might learn life's ups and downs.
His wits will leave him in misery and hardship, and no one will pay this matter any heed.
When Arzhang heard his words, he turned toward the King of Mazandaran.
He set off with the army and the spoils, the captives and the fine horses arrayed.
He handed them to the king and quickly returned, coming from the wide plain to that lofty peak.