English
The Hidden Tent
When that ebony tent, the night sky, was hidden away,
from far off came the cry and clamor of dawn.
Jahangir went to his father's side,
his heart secretly full of pain, his soul worn out.
When he saw him he wept and bowed low in respect,
and stayed before him a long while.
He said to him: My unlucky king,
sole memory left in the world of Nushirvan,
you know that if I could be your shield,
not even a needle's prick would reach your fingertip.
See now what you would have me do;
grief has come to you, and my heart is full of blood for it.
If you command it, at your door
I am a slave who will guard your head.
I seek no crown, I want no army;
I will lay down my own life before the king.
Hormozd said to him: You who are full of wisdom,
these days of hardship too will pass from me.
From you I had a wish for three things,
and beyond these I will ask for nothing more.
First, that each dawn at daybreak
you fill my ears with a cheerful song.
And second, a rider among the proud warriors
who bears the marks of old battles,
send to me, one who can speak of war
and who has hunted in his day.
And another: a learned old man
who can tell tales of the kings,
let him bring me a written book
so that with it my pain and hardship may reach their end.
The third wish is for those who are your servants and equals,
your attendants who are not truly your peers,
who will never again look upon the world with their eyes;
do not turn your wrath on them over this mourning.
Khosrow said to him: My king,
may no one ever come to grief before your eyes.
May it not be so, and even if it exists in secret,
may your enemy be banished far from this world.
But look with a clear mind:
Bahram Chubineh has become the champion.
The army with him is beyond counting,
riders and heroes who wield the dagger.
If we reach out our hand against Gostahm,
we will find no place to rest in the world.
As for the other wish, an aged scribe
who reads to the king the words of the past,
and a rider seasoned in battle
who also knows the ways of the feast,
I will send you a new one of these every hour;
do not stay downcast with your pain for even a moment.
Do not think this comes from Gostahm; it is God's doing,
and it is folly to blame it on his words or deeds.
May your heart be content amid this pain,
and may it stay bound to wisdom as well.
He said this and came away in tears,
revealing his secret openly to no one.
The son was more loving than the king;
a wise man told a fitting tale of this:
that a friend with a smooth, sweet tongue,
and one who has grown old and worn like a weary elder,
the skilled person and the person without any skill,
in the end both alike hold nothing but dust to their breast.