English
The Story of Mazdak and Kavad
A man named Mazdak came forward, a speaker full of knowledge, judgment, and eloquence.
He was a man of high worth who dealt in wisdom, and brave Kavad listened to him.
He became the king's chief minister, keeper of the treasury and its stores.
A drought made food scarce across the land, among the humble and the great alike.
The clouds vanished from the sky; no one in Iran saw rain or snow.
The great ones of the world gathered at Kavad's gate, each crying out for bread and water.
Mazdak said to them: the king will show you a way forward and give you hope.
He hurried in before the king and said: O renowned monarch,
I have one question to ask you about the world; if only you would give me a short answer.
Kavad, the eloquent one, told him: speak, and let your words bring me fresh honor.
Mazdak said: when a snake has bitten someone, the life is about to fly from his body.
Another man holds the antidote for that venom, yet the bitten one cannot get any of it.
Tell me, what fate does such a man deserve, one who has the antidote worth twenty coins?
The king answered him: this man who hoards the antidote is a killer.
For the blood of the bitten one he should be put to death, since he came to my gate like an enemy with a closed fist.
When Mazdak heard this, he rose from before the king and went out to the people who were pleading.
He said to them: I have asked the king about matters from every angle.
Wait until early dawn, and I will show you the road to justice.
They left, and returned at daybreak with torn faces and wracked with grief.
When Mazdak saw that crowd at the gate, he ran from the court toward the king of Iran.
He said: O king of victorious fortune, eloquent, watchful, worthy of the throne,
I spoke, and you gave me your answer; you opened for me what had been locked shut.
If it is permitted now, let a spokesman speak before you as a guide.
The king said: speak, and do not seal your lips, for your words are useful to me.
Mazdak said: O renowned king, when you bind someone in tight chains,
and hold back his food until he dies, so he surrenders body and soul in helplessness,
what is the punishment for the one who had bread and left this prisoner to perish in contempt?
What would my king say of him, this wise and pious man?
The king answered: dig out that man's roots, for there is unjust blood on his neck.
When Mazdak heard this, he kissed the ground and walked proudly out from before Kavad.
He came to the court amid the crowd and said:
Wherever wheat lies hidden away,
give it out freely through street and city,
so each and every one can take a share.
Everyone who was hungry rushed in
and carried off the wheat from the stores.
Whether the city's granary or the king's own,
not a single grain was left untouched.
When the informers saw this, they ran
to the watchful king of the world,
saying they had plundered the king's granary,
and the blame comes back to Mazdak.
Kavad summoned that eloquent man
and pressed him about the looting of the stores.
He answered: May you live forever;
may your speech be nourishment for wisdom.
Whatever words I heard from the king,
I passed on, bit by bit, to the merchants.
I told the king of the world about the snake and its venom,
and about the man who holds the antidote in the city.
To this servant the king gave his reply:
the guilty man is the one who withholds the antidote.
If someone spills the blood of that antidote-keeper,
no one holds him to account for it.
For a hungry man, bread is the cure for that venom;
once he is full, he has no need of any antidote.
If you are just, O king,
then a granary full of wheat serves no purpose.
How many people died with empty bellies,
while the hoarded store did nothing to save their lives?
His words troubled Kavad's heart,
and his mind grew sharp with this talk of justice.
After that he questioned him and heard the answers,
and found his own heart and soul filled with his words.
As for what the prophets had taught,
and the just priests and religious leaders,
with Mazdak's teaching it all went crooked;
his words passed beyond all bounds.
A great crowd of soldiers gathered around him,
and many strayed from the right path.
He kept saying that whoever was rich
stood equal with the man who had nothing.
No one should have more than another;
let the rich be warp and the poor be weft.
The world's goods should be shared equally;
why should the rich seek any surplus?
Wife and home and property should be shared;
the empty-handed man is one with the wealthy.
I will set this right by the pure faith,
so that clarity rises high out of the pit.
Whoever follows any faith but this
is cursed by God and by me.
So every pauper joined with him,
whether grown men or mere children.
He took from this one and gave to that one;
the wise were left dumbfounded by such talk.
When Kavad heard it, he embraced his faith,
and of all the world he was glad only for his words.
The king seated him at his right hand;
the army no longer knew where the chief priest stood.
Everyone who was poor sided with him, even those whose bread came from their own labor.
His new faith spread across the world, and no one dared seek any quarrel with him.
The rich man bowed his head under pressure and handed over whatever he owned to the poor.
It happened one day at dawn that Mazdak came from his house to the king.
He said: among our devout believers, our pure-hearted common folk,
many of the world's leaders are at your gate; grant them entry when they pass through.
Qobad heard these words from Mazdak and ordered his chamberlain to give them audience.
Mazdak said to the noble king: this place is too small for such a crowd of troops.
They will not fit before the king; let him step out onto the open plain and survey them there.
He ordered the throne carried out, moved from the royal hall to the plain.
A hundred thousand of Mazdak's followers came to the field, joyfully approaching the king.
Mazdak said to the king of the earth: you who stand above all praiseworthy wisdom,
know that Kasra does not follow our faith; how can it be right for him to turn away from the religion?
A written pledge must be taken from his hand, that he will turn his head back from the wrong path.
Five things twist a person away from righteousness, and the wise have named no more than these five:
they are envy, spite, wrath, and want, and the fifth by which greed overcomes a person.
When you master these five demons, the path to the Lord of the world opens before you.
Two of these five are woman and wealth, which have diminished the true faith in the world.
Woman and wealth must be held in common, if you do not want harm to the true faith,
for from these two spring envy, greed, and want, joined secretly with wrath and spite.
The demon twists even the heads of the wise; so these two must be shared among all.
When he had spoken this, he took Kasra by the hand, and the king of Iran stood amazed at him.
But the renowned prince pulled his hand away in anger, and sharply shut his eyes to Mazdak.
Qobad said to Mazdak, smiling: what do you hold in mind about Kasra's faith?
Mazdak said: this straight path he keeps to secrecy is not part of our religion.
At once the king asked Kasra: there is no way to abandon the good faith.
Kasra said to him: give me time, and I will show that this whole belief is crooked.
When its crookedness and flaws are made clear, the truth will shine bright before you.
Mazdak asked him: how many days of time do you request from the world-illuminating king?
Kasra told him: give me five months; in the sixth I will lay it all before the king.
They agreed on this and went their separate ways; the proud king returned to his palace.
Khosrow sent messengers everywhere to find any wise person, anyone who could offer help.
A messenger went to Khorreh Ardeshir, where old Hormozd was known for his justice.
From Estakhr came Mehrazar the Persian, arriving at court with thirty companions.
The seekers of knowledge sat together, and every kind of talk passed among them, great and small.
The wise and the learned elders laid all their words before Khosrow.
When Khosrow had heard them, he went to Qobad and brought up the matter of Mazdak.
He said: Now the time has come for me to demand the true faith be tested.
If it turns out that truth is on his side, then Zoroaster's faith will be shown wanting.
Then I will accept his pure faith, and choose him with all my heart as the chosen one.
If the path of Fereydun becomes false, along with Ezra the Christian, and the Zand and Avesta,
then Mazdak's words will stand as valid, and no one in the world but him should guide us.
But if it turns out he speaks crookedly, and does not seek the pure path of God,
then hand him over to me, and all who share his faith; let not one of them keep flesh on his bones.
He made Zarmehr and Khordad witnesses, along with Farayin, Bandoy, and Behzad.
Then he went to his own palace, keeping faithfully to that honest pact.
At dawn, when the sun raised its crown, the earth became like a sea of ivory.
The son of the king of the world came forward, speaking with the priests and the noble elders.
In proper form they came to the king's palace, the orators and the seekers of the way.
The charming Mazdak came before Qobad and opened his argument.
In front of the assembly Khosrow said to Mazdak: You who study knowledge,
you have made a new faith full of harm, putting wives and wealth up for common sharing.
How will a son know who his father is? And how will a father recognize his son?
If all people in the world are made equal, the lowly and the noble will no longer be distinct.
Who then would seek a humble station? And how could anyone attain greatness?
When a man dies, whose is his place and his property? The laborer stands level with the king.
This teaching will lay the whole world to ruin; such an evil must never come to Iran.
If everyone is a master, then who is the worker? If all hold treasure, then who is the treasurer?
No true prophet ever said such things; you have kept a madness hidden inside you.
You lead all people down to hell, and you do not count evil deeds as evil.
When Qobad heard the chief priest's words, he grew furious and gave justice its due in his verdict.
The noble Kasra took the priest's side, and the heart of the godless man filled with pain.
The whole assembly rose up in a clamor: 'Let Mazdak never stand beside the crowned king.'
He corrupts the faith of God; let him never remain in this celebrated court.
The king turned away in disgust from that creed, and his head filled with grief over what he had done.
At once the king handed him over to Kasra, along with everyone who followed his rule and path.
He said: for anyone who holds to this faith of his, let no one keep body and soul together.
A hundred thousand followed that evil road; the king then said to his son:
Do whatever you wish with these leaders, and from now on speak no more of Mazdak.
At Kasra's court there was a garden whose walls rose higher than a hillside.
He dug a deep trench all around it and scattered these people into it.
He planted them like trees, their feet in the air and their heads packed hard into the earth below.
Kasra said to Mazdak: Go, walk to the gate of that precious garden.
Look at the trees that no one has ever seen, that not even the wise men of old ever heard of.
Mazdak went to the garden and opened the door, hoping to see fruit-laden lawns.
The moment he saw it, his senses left him, and against his will a cry burst out of him.
Kasra ordered a tall gallows raised, and a coiling noose was lowered from it.
He hanged the wretch alive on the gallows, and turned the godless man's head downward.
After that he killed him with a rain of arrows. If you have any sense, do not take Mazdak's road.
The nobles felt secure in their wealth again, their wives, children, and their well-kept gardens.
For a while Qobad lived on in shame, remembering the curse of Mazdak.
He gave much away to the poor and also sent fine robes to the fire temple.
The king was so delighted with Kasra that his branch had borne jewels as its fruit.
From then on he took counsel with him in everything, and listened to whatever he said.
When his reign passed forty years, the sorrow of the day of death entered his heart.
So he wrote a letter on silk; he himself was the scribe of that fitting script.
First he praised the just God, from whom he had both his faith and his skill.
Without doubt all that God has said will come to pass, whether in the open or the hidden.
No one has seen the summit of his kingship; whoever chose him was never brought low.
Whoever reads the writing of Qobad, take no lesson to heart except the counsel of Kasra.
I have handed the throne to Kasra, who deserves it;
after my death he will be the fortunate one.
May God be pleased with this son,
and may the heart of anyone who wishes him ill be filled with smoke.
Do not stray one bit from his word;
rejoice in him and fill his treasuries.
He set a golden seal upon that decree
and entrusted it to the priest Ram Borzin.
Qobad reached eighty years of age;
in his old age he was not glad even of death.
He died, and the world he left behind was worthless without him;
the color and scent faded from his face and his sight.
They dressed his body in fine brocade
and called for roses, musk, camphor, and wine.
They built a royal tomb,
with a king's crown and a great throne.
They laid the king upon a throne of gold
and sealed his path shut forever.
When the priest was done mourning the king,
he placed the royal decree before the assembly.
They read the decree aloud to that gathering
and seated the crown prince with joy.
When Kasra took his place on the new throne,
they began to call him the new king.
They praised him as their king
and scattered jewels over his head.
They named him Nushin-Ravan,
for the ruler was young and his reign was young.
The tale of Qobad has now come to its end;
from here on I will speak the name of Kasra.
He had justice, wisdom, and good name;
by justice and generosity he won renown and his heart's desire.
O charming, tall cypress,
what has happened to you, that you have grown so sorrowful?
With all that joy, that splendor and grace,
why has your bright heart filled with dread?
The cypress answered the one who asked:
I was joyful until I grew old.
I have grown so weak from the force of sixty years;
beware of it, for no hand can match it.
It has the tail of a dragon and the claws of a lion;
it crushes whoever it brings low.
Its voice is thunder, its strength that of a rhinoceros;
in one hand it holds affliction, in the other death.
It bends the graceful cypress into a hoop
and turns the jasmine petal the color of dark amber.
It turns the crimson rose to saffron,
and after saffron come heavy sorrows.
The swift runner's foot is bound though no chain holds it,
and by it the once honored body is made contemptible.
Weakness has seized my bright teeth;
the free, upright cypress has been bent low.
Those tender narcissus eyes have grown clouded and wailing;
that free cypress has become a bent back.
The glad, carefree heart has filled with pain;
our days have turned merciless like this.
When a man has had his fill of life,
death hurries in and calls him old.
Nushin-Ravan's covenant was forty-eight years;
you have passed sixty; you will not remain young.