The Dream of Salar Piran

A pitch-black night, the moon in hiding, and every bird, wild beast, and creature deep in sleep. Salar Piran saw in his dream that a candle had been kindled from the sun itself. Beside the candle stood Siavash, a sword in hand, and he called out: 'This is no time to sit still. Lift your head from this sweet slumber and give a thought to how the world will end. For today is a new order and a new feast; tonight is the celebration of noble Kaykhosrow.' The general trembled in his pleasant dream, and Golshahr, radiant as the sun, stirred beside him. Piran said to her: 'Get up and go, step gracefully to Farangis. I have just seen Siavash in a dream, brighter than the sun set high in the heavens. He told me: How long will you sleep? Do not linger! Come to the feast of Kaykhosrow, the seeker of the world.' Golshahr made her way toward the moon; the king had been parted from the moon's side. She saw him and hurried back in joy, and at once the world filled with the sound of it. She came in delight and said to Piran: 'Here is a match made in perfect order, sun paired with moon. Come in and behold the wonder, the greatness and the design of the Creator of the world. You would say he is fit for nothing but the crown, or else for armor, helmet, and the spoils of war.' The general came before the king, showered him with praise and laid offerings before him. Seeing that height and stature, that stately frame and mane, you would think years had already passed over him. For the sake of Siavash his eyes filled with tears, and he heaped curses upon Afrasiab. He said to the noble gathering: 'Even if my life is torn from me over these words, I will not let anyone raise a hand against this king, not even if I am handed over to the jaws of a crocodile.' When the sun revealed its face, the dark head of the moon slipped into sleep. When the army's champion awoke, he rushed swiftly to the king's side. He waited until the place was clear, then went up close to that famous throne. He said to him: 'O lord bright as the sun, ruler of the world, wakeful and full of wonder-working craft! Last night a servant grew at your gate; you would think wisdom itself had given him his substance. No one else is left with any beauty but you; you would say he alone belongs upon the royal throne. If Tur's day were to return, he would long to gaze upon this face. You would say the hero Fereydun is here again, in glory, in face, in hand, and in step. No one sees such a figure in any palace; through him the king's own splendor is renewed. Clear your heart of dark thoughts; raise up the crown and let your heart shine bright.' So the Creator of the world made all things bright, that war, injustice, and hatred were driven far away. His soul ached with grief over the blood of Siavash, and a cold sigh escaped his lips. He regretted what he had done, for with useless words he had caused pain. He said to him: about this newcomer I have heard many things from many people. Because of him the age will be full of turmoil and war; I keep it all in mind from my teacher, that from the line of Tur and of Kai Qobad a king of noble stock will rise. The world will long for his love, and all the city of Turan will bow before him in worship. Now whatever was destined to be has been; grief and pain and worry bring no gain. Do not keep him among the crowd; send him off to the shepherds in the mountains, so that he never learns who I really am, or why I handed him over to them. If his noble blood teaches him no wisdom from anyone, he will remember nothing of the past. He said all he could recall of this matter, and treated this old world as though it were new. What can you contrive when the remedy is not in your hands? The rope is long, but the hook is not yours to hold. If you see hardship from fate, that same fate will also be your teacher in goodness. The champion came to his door in high spirits, expecting only good in his heart. He began to praise the Creator of the world and to extol the king of the world. He was lost in thought until he reached his hall, wondering what would come of that trouble and that love. He summoned the mountain shepherds and spoke to them at length with wisdom, saying: guard this child like your own pure life; wind and dust must never touch him. His days must never grow hard; whatever his eyes and heart desire must be given. He gave the shepherd many gifts and sent a nurse along with the boy as well. He entrusted to them that darling of his heart and eyes, the admired and world-seeking young hero. The turning sky passed over this too; with love its face smiled upon Khosrow. When the proud boy turned seven, his talent whispered the secret of his noble blood to him. He made a bow from a piece of wood and a string from a sinew, tying knots on the string at every side. He made an arrow without feather or point, and set out to hunt game across the plain. When he turned ten, he grew into a mighty warrior, striking down boar and bear and wolf. From there he moved on to lion and leopard; that same bent wood was still his weapon of war. So it went as time passed on, until he came at the bidding of his guardian. The shepherd came down from mountain and plain, lamented, and passed by near Piran, saying: because of this proud one, this free lion, I have come to the champion, and my flock has scattered. At first he hunted only the deer, and never went after lions or fought with leopards. But now, to him, battling a roaring lion and hunting a deer are one and the same. I fear that harm may come to him, that this noble prince might endanger himself. When Piran heard this, he laughed and said: noble blood and true worth cannot stay hidden. He mounted his docile steed and rode to the lion-hearted young king. He ordered the boy brought lovingly before him, and Piran gazed at that glory and that face. He held him to his chest a long while, whispering secrets to the pure Judge above. The devout Kaykhosrow said to him: may the land of Turan shine bright because of you. For anyone who does not know who you are calls you nothing but a shepherd's boy. Yet you take a shepherd's child into your arms like this, and feel no shame before anyone. The wise man's heart burned with pity for him, and his face flared bright like fire. He said to him: O keepsake of great kings, chosen one who has not yet walked the world, you are the crown upon the head of monarchs. Who would ever call you a shepherd's son? No one of your lineage was ever a shepherd, and I know many a tale about your line. For the young man he called for a horse and fine gear, and for royal robes fit for a king. He walked with him into the palace, his soul still grieving for Siyavash. He raised him in his own embrace, and the turning of the days made him happy for the boy. So more of time's turning passed like this, while deep in his heart he kept love for the king. One dark night, at the hour of rest and sleep, a messenger came from Afrasiyab. In that darkness he summoned the chieftain and spoke at length of things long past. He said: all night my heart writhes with grim thoughts, and I am torn apart by grief. Ever since this child of Siyavash appeared, it is as if my daylight has vanished. A grandson of Fereydun, raised by shepherds, how does that fit with reason and good sense? If evil for me is written through him, it cannot be avoided, for it is God's decree. If he does not remember what has passed, let him live happily and we shall be happy too. But if he shows any trace of evil temper, his head must be cut off, just like his father's. Piran said to him: O king, you need no one to teach you anything. A little child, senseless as the simple ones, what trace could he keep of what has passed? Do not brood on this, and do not strive for evil. Recall what that deeply wise man said: the Creator is greater than any father, even if a child's love belongs to its mother. First, gladden me with a promise; recall one of the oaths of kings. Fereydun, with his justice, his throne, and his crown, always kept faith with the truth. When Afrasiyab heard Piran out, the warrior's head cleared of sleep. He swore a solemn, kingly oath by the white day and the deep blue night. By the Creator who made this world, who made the sky, the wild beasts, the tame flocks, and all life, that no harm from me would come to this child, and that I would never turn my sharp breath against him. Piran kissed the ground and said: O just king, without peer or equal, I am safe now in this vow and oath of yours; now my body and soul have found peace. From there he came hurrying to Khosrow, his cheeks flushed rose, his heart glad. He told him: drive all wisdom from your mind; when he means battle, answer him as if it were a feast. Go before him only as a madman; speak only like a stranger who understands nothing. Do not circle anywhere near reason, so that this single day may pass over you safely. He set the crown of the kings upon his head and fastened a royal belt around his waist. He called for a fine, swift-paced steed, and that pure-hearted youth mounted it. He came to the court of Afrasiyab, a whole world watching him with eyes brimming with tears. A cry went up: clear the way, make room, for a new figure has come before the throne. The valiant prince went forward, and the commander Piran led him ahead. He came near to Afrasiyab, and the grandfather's face went moist with shame before him. At that kingly neck and those strong hands, at that stature, that splendor, and that majesty, he looked a while and saw it clearly; the color kept draining from his face. The champion's body trembled like a willow; he lost all hope for the young man's life. For a moment it was so, then his face softened; fate brought love for the boy into his heart. He asked: O newly grown youth, what do you know of the ways of the world? How do you tend the sheep? How have you been roaming the land? He answered: there is no game to hunt; I have neither a bow nor feathered arrows of my own. He questioned him again about his teacher, about good and evil and the turning of the days. He told him: where there is a leopard, it tears open the heart of the sharp-clawed man. Third, he asked him about his mother and father, his home, his city, his eating and his sleep. He answered: a tearing lion will not let a battle-dog get the better of it. Khosrow laughed at his words and turned his face toward the army's commander. He said to him: this child's heart will not stay put; ask him from the head and he answers from the foot. Neither good nor evil is likely to come from him; a spiteful man is not made this way. Go, entrust him kindly to his mother, and into the care of a devout man. Send him off to Siavash's country, and keep every corrupt teacher far from him. Horses, servants, and all he needs, give it all freely from the treasury and coin. The commander moved with some haste in this, and led the boy out from Afrasiab's presence. He came to his own palace, glowing with joy, walking proudly, shielding him from the evil eye. He kept saying: by the grace of the just Creator, a new tree has come to bear fruit for the world. He opened up the ancient treasuries and prepared every kind of gift for the young prince. Gold coins and silk, swords and jewels, horses and armor, helmets and belts. And thrones too, and sacks of coin, carpets and furnishings, more and less. He sent them all off toward that city which had wholly turned into a thicket of thorns. Farangis and Kaykhosrow arrived there, and crowds of people appeared from every side. They took in that ground with their eyes, one by one, and the tongues of beast and bird were full of praise. Everyone with any grace kept saying: thanks to the just Judge of the world, for from that root of an uprooted blessed tree, He has raised such a sturdy branch as this. May the evil eye stay far from the king of kings; may Siavash's soul be full of light. All the soil of that city grew glad; the grass on the lawn became a free-standing cypress. From the earth that had drunk Siavash's blood, a tree rose out of the dust into the clouds. His face was painted upon its leaves, and from love of him the scent of musk arose. In the dead of winter it bore the sign of spring; it became a place of worship for the mourners. Such are the ways of this foul old crone, the world: she snatches the breast's milk from her own child. Once your heart's love is bound fast to the world, she suddenly brings your head down into the dust. Seek nothing from her but joy; in the garden of the world, do not smell the leaf of sorrow. Whether you wear a crown or your hand is empty, you will not see time pause for you at all. Do not torment your soul, for this is not your home; there is no place for you but the narrow coffin. Why hoard? Sit down and enjoy your food, trusting in the treasure of the world's Creator. When the sword's edge of sixty reaches your head, pour no more wine, for the man is already drunk on years. The years have handed me a cane in place of the reins; my wealth is scattered and my fortune has turned. So too the watchman up on the mountaintop no longer sees the army of the king. He does not know how to turn his reins from the enemy, unless a spearhead comes level with his eyes. The swift steed that once raced forward, the same enemy's snare has bound it fast. The same ear has grown tired of every sound, the nightingale's song and the lion's roar alike. Now that I have raised the cup of fifty eight years, I think of nothing but the coffin and the washing basin. A pity for that flower and musk and sweet water of thirty, and for the sharp cutting Persian blade of youth. The pheasant no longer circles the wild rose; now it wants the elm's blossom and the cypress bough. I ask only of the radiant Creator that I be granted enough time from this life, that from this famous book of ancient days I may leave a single tale behind me in the world, so that everyone who does justice to good speech will remember me only with kindness. In that other world too I have my plea to make, the world armed with the sharp sword and the crown. I am the servant of the Prophet's household, the singer who praises the dust beneath the feet of his heir. On this faith I was born and on it I will pass; know me as the dust at Ali's feet. I have no business with anyone else; there is nothing to add to this. Now return to the storyteller's words; see what the singing man has to say.