English
The Birth of Zal
Now let me weave a tale full of wonder, taken from the words of the ancients.
Look at the trick that fate played on Sam; listen closely, my son.
Sam had no child of his own, and his heart longed for that wish to be fulfilled.
In his private chambers he kept a lovely woman, her face like rose petals, her hair like musk.
From that moon-faced beauty he hoped for a child, one with the face of the sun and full of promise.
She was carrying Sam's child, and her body ached under its heavy weight.
After some days, from that mother was born a beauty as radiant as the world-lighting sun.
His face shone bright as the sun, yet all of his hair was white.
Since the boy was born to his mother in this way, for a whole week no one told Sam.
The women of that famous champion's household stood grieving over the little newborn.
No one dared tell the brave Sam that his beautiful wife had borne him an old, white-haired child.
But he had a nurse as bold as a lion, and she came to the champion with courage.
She said: May this be a blessed day for the brave Sam, and may the hearts of his enemies be torn out.
Behind your curtain, O seeker of fame, your moon-faced wife has borne a pure son.
His body is silver-white, his face like paradise; you will not find a single flaw upon him.
Only, like a deer, his hair is white; such is your portion, O seeker of fame.
Sam the horseman came down from his throne and stepped behind the curtain toward that fresh spring of a child.
When he saw his son's white hair, he lost all hope in the world entirely.
He raised his head straight toward the sky and cried out to the Giver of Justice.
He said: O you who are above all crookedness and fault, from you comes far more good than one could ask.
If I have committed some grave sin, or followed the way of Ahriman,
then let the Creator of the world, in his mercy, secretly forgive me for my plea.
My darkened soul writhes with shame, and hot blood boils within my heart.
When the proud warriors come and ask, what shall I say about this ill-marked child?
What shall I say this demon's child is? A leopard? A thing of two colors? Or a fairy?
For this disgrace I would leave the land of Iran; I want no blessing on this soil and country.
Then he ordered that the child be taken up and carried far away from that land.
To the place where the Simurgh had her nest, that little stranger was left.
They set him on the mountain and turned back, and a long time passed over this.
So it was that the innocent son of a champion could not yet tell white from black.
The father tossed aside all love and kinship;
he wronged the child still at the breast.
Consider even a fierce lioness:
never does she deny her cub her milk.
If I had fed you with the blood of my heart,
I would never have held it over you as a debt.
For you are my very eye and my heart itself;
my heart would break if you broke away from me.
When the Simorgh's chicks grew hungry,
she soared up in haste from her nest.
She saw an infant crying at the breast,
and the ground beneath him like a boiling sea of tears.
His cradle was hard rock, his nurse the dust,
his body without clothing, his lips without milk.
Around him lay the dark and wretched earth,
and above him the sun had climbed high.
Would that a leopard had been his mother and father,
so he might at least have found some shade from the sun.
The Simorgh came down from the clouds and, with her talons,
lifted him up off that scorching stone.
She carried him swiftly to the Alborz peak,
where she had her nest and her brood.
She brought him to her chicks to be their prey,
so they would pay no heed to his pitiful cries.
But God, the giver of good, took pity;
what was fated for the boy still lay ahead.
The Simorgh looked at that small child among her chicks,
blood dripping from both his eyes.
Strangely, they were filled with love for him,
and gazed in wonder at that beautiful face.
She chose the most tender of her prey for him,
for, having no milk, the little guest sucked its blood.
And so it went for a long span of time,
until the all knowing God revealed the secret.
When that small child had grown noble and strong,
a good stretch of time had passed upon that mountain.
He became a man like a fresh cypress,
his chest a silver mountain, his waist slender as a reed.
News of him spread across the world;
good and evil never stay hidden for long.
Word reached Sam, son of Nariman,
about that fortunate boy of noble bearing.
One night among many, heartsick, he lay asleep,
deeply troubled by the ways of the world.
In his dream he saw a man from India
riding hard upon an Arabian horse,
who brought him the good news of his son,
of that lofty, fruitful branch of his.
When he woke, he summoned the wise priests
and spoke with them at length about this matter.
'What do you say,' he asked, 'about this story?
Does your wisdom agree with me on this?'
Every one of them, both old and young,
opened their lips to the champion and said:
'The lion and the leopard on stone and dust,
and the fish and the crocodile down in the sea,
all of them raise their young,
and give their thanks to God for them.'
'Yet you broke the covenant of the good giver
and cast out your innocent child like that.'
Now turn toward God and ask his pardon, for he is the one who guides us to what is good.
When the dark night fell, the urge to sleep came over him; the worry in his heart pressed hard upon him.
In his dream he saw a tall banner raised high from the mountains of India.
A handsome young man appeared, with a great army marching behind him.
On his left stood a priest, and on his right a famous, wise man.
One of those two men stepped up to Sam and began to speak with cold, cutting words.
He said: You reckless man of impure heart, you who have washed all shame of God from your eyes and soul,
if a bird can serve as your child's nurse, then what is the point of all your heroism?
If white hair is a flaw in a man, then your own beard and head have turned as pale as a willow's silver leaves.
So renounce the Creator, whose hand gives your body a new color every day.
The son who was worthless in your eyes is now raised and cherished by God himself,
who is a kinder nurse to him than any other; you yourself have no substance of love within you.
In his sleep Sam let out a cry, like a raging lion caught in a snare.
When he woke he summoned his wise men and set all the leaders of his army on their horses.
He rode hard toward that mountain range, to seek out the child he had cast away.
He saw a mountain with its head in the Pleiades, so high it seemed to drag the stars down.
On it a nest was raised so tall that not even Saturn could harm it.
It was built with beams of ebony and sandalwood, aloewood fitted piece into piece.
Sam gazed at that hard granite, at the terror of the bird and the awe of its den.
It was a palace whose crown touched the stars, made neither by human toil nor of water and clay.
He searched for a way to climb up, but how could there be a path in such a place, fit only for wild beasts and birds?
He praised the Creator and pressed his cheeks to the ground.
He said: You who are higher than any place, above every bright soul, above the sun and moon,
if this child truly comes from my pure lineage, and not from the evil seed of a demon,
then take your servant's hand and help me climb; accept this sinner of yours.
The Simorgh said this to the son of Sam: You who have known the hardship of nest and den,
your father, Sam the champion, the hero of the world, the proudest man among the great,
has come to this mountain seeking his son; your honor before him is restored.
Now it is right that I lift you and bring you gently down to him.
See what Dastan replied to the Simorgh: So it seems you have grown weary of your companion.
Your nest is my shining throne;
your two wings are the glory of my crown.
The Simorgh answered: If you should see a crown and a throne,
and know the royal way of the diadem,
in case this nest of mine no longer serves your need,
try the world out for yourself.
Keep one feather of mine with you;
the shadow of my glory will bless you.
If any hardship ever comes upon you,
or talk of good and evil rises against you,
throw one of my feathers into the fire,
and at once you will witness my glory.
For I raised you beneath my wing,
and brought you up alongside my own chicks.
In that moment I will come like a dark cloud
and carry you back to this place, unharmed.
Do not forget your nurse's love in your heart,
for my love for you tears at my own.
She gladdened her heart, lifted him up,
and soared high into the clouds with him.
From her flight she brought him down to his father,
his hair by now grown down to his chest.
His body was mighty as an elephant, his face like spring;
when his father saw him, he wept bitterly.
He quickly bowed his head to the Simorgh,
pouring out his praise and blessings.
He gazed at the boy from head to foot;
he was worthy of a royal crown and throne.
A lion's chest and arms, a face like the sun,
the heart of a warrior, a hand seeking the sword.
His eyelashes white, his eyes black as pitch,
his lips like coral, his cheeks the color of blood.
Sam's heart became like the highest paradise;
he blessed that pure son of his.
He said: My son, soften your heart toward me;
do not dwell on the past, warm your heart again.
I am the least of God's worshippers,
now that I have taken you back into my arms.
I have vowed before the great God
that I will never again turn my heart harshly against you.
I will seek your wishes, for good or ill;
from now on, whatever you want is right.
He clothed his body in a warrior's robe
and set his feet down from the mountain.
He came down from the mountain and called for a mount,
and asked for garments fit for a king.
The whole army came before Sam,
coming with open hearts and joyful spirits.
The drummers led the elephants forward,
and a dust rose up like the color of indigo.
The clamor of kettledrums and trumpets,
the golden bells and the Indian chimes.
All the horsemen raised a cheer,
and in that gladness they set off on their way.
When night raised its banner into the sky,
that Roman face of day turned dark as an African's.
They came down onto that open plain,
lay down, and drew breath for a while.
When the blazing sun shone on the turning sky,
it pitched a tent of white silk.
They came joyfully into the city, arriving with even greater honor and heroic pride.