English
The Battle of Iran and Turan
When the army returned from the field of war, their bodies drenched in blood and their heads caked with dust,
word reached Afrasiab from the Turks: the good fortune once awake had fallen into sleep.
The famous Sorkheh had been killed, and their bright fortune had suddenly turned against them.
They had cut off his head and turned it upside down, and hung his blood soaked body on the gallows.
All the people of Iran are wounded to the heart, and have bound their belts to avenge Siavash.
The head and crown of Afrasiab were bowed low; he tore at his hair and let his tears pour down.
He kept saying: O generous one, O noble sage, O renowned leader, O wise and brave hero,
what a pity for your face, radiant as the moon, what a pity for that kingly stature and height.
Crying out, he scattered dust upon his head and tore all his garments upon himself.
Afrasiab spoke to his army like this: for us the time of eating and sleeping is over.
Brighten your eyes with vengeance, and make a bed out of armor and mail.
When the sound of war drums rose from his court, his army stirred before the palace.
The brass trumpet blared and the drums were struck; the sky bent down to kiss the earth.
The king called out to his fierce warriors: O renowned men of the day of battle,
when the drums rise on both sides, the fighting man wastes no time.
Fill your hearts with hatred for the fight, and curse the Iranians completely.
The clamor rose, the wail of trumpets, the breath of brass horns and Indian bells.
The earth boiled under the hooves of horses, and the shouting and uproar climbed to the clouds.
When the dust of the army rose from the plain, a lookout came to Rostam with the news,
that an army had come, heavy as a mountain, all of them battle seekers and brave fighters.
The air turned violet from the blades of the bold; they marched out with the royal banner of Kaveh.
The roar of both armies rose up, and the world filled with men eager for war.
You would say the sun and moon were caught in the fray, and the stars gripped in the jaws of a sea monster.
The commander of the Turks readied for battle; they seized maces and daggers in their hands.
Barman advanced toward the right wing with an army of Turks, roaring and thundering.
Kahram the swordsman took the left wing, while the king stood in the center with his company.
On this side Rostam drew up his army; the air vanished behind the blades of the heroes.
He set Giv and Tus on the right wing, watchful horsemen with elephants and drums.
Gudarz son of Kashvad held the left, with Hojir and the noblemen all together.
In the center stood Rostam of Zabol, clad in armor, with his Kabuli dagger.
You would think it was neither night nor day; the world-lighting sun had hidden itself away.
The earth turned the color of stone under the horses' hooves, and the sky, from the spears, looked like a leopard's spotted back.
You would think the air had become a mountain of iron, its peak covered with helmets and mail.
Lances and banners rose into the clouds, and the violet blades flashed like lightning.
From the heart of the army came Pilsam, his heart full of blood, his face grim with grief.
He spoke to the king of the Turanian host: 'O gifted king, wisher of good,
if you will not withhold from me a mount, armor, a mace and a sword,
today I will make war on Rostam and drag his whole reputation into disgrace.
I will bring you his head and his horse Rakhsh, along with his own helmet and his world-conquering sword.'
Afrasiyab's spirit lifted with joy; he raised his spearpoint higher than the sun.
He said to him: 'O renowned lion, surely even an elephant could not bring you down.
If you can seize that giant-bodied man, the age itself will be freed from strife.
No one in Turan will match you in rank, in treasure, in sword, in throne and crown.
If you lift my head to the turning heavens, I will give you my daughter and my kingdom.
Two shares of Iran and Turan will be yours; the jewels, the treasure, and the cities will be yours.'
When Piran heard this he was deeply troubled, and came before the king of sun-bright fortune.
He said to him: 'This young and hot-headed man is bringing ruin upon his own body.
He is deceived by his own name, and gives no thought to how his venture will end.
No one walks on his own feet toward hell, or recklessly toward a dragon's jaws.
If he goes to battle with the giant, he will bury his own head in the dust.
The hearts of our warriors will break in the fight, and this too will be a disgrace upon the king.
You know he is the younger brother; the love of an elder for the younger is all the greater.'
Then Pilsam said to Piran: 'Do not let your heart grieve over this warrior.
For even if I fight a battle-dragon, by your good fortune I will bring no shame upon the king.
Before you, against four famous champions, you yourself saw what my hand could do.
Surely my strength is greater now; it is not right to break my resolve.
This task will be accomplished by my hand; do not circle around the gate of an evil star.'
When the king heard these words from him, he gave him a horse fit for battle,
along with a sword and horse-armor, a lance, a coat of mail, and a warrior's helmet.
Pilsam prepared himself for that fight, and rode out like a lion, swift as wind and breath.
Rustam called out to the Iranians: Where is the one who claims to be a dragon on the day of battle?
When Giv heard these words he flared up, struck out and drew his sword from its sheath.
Rustam said to him: fighting a single Turk brings you no shame.
The two warriors clashed together, the raging Giv, son of Gudarz, against Pilsam.
Pilsam thrust a spear at Giv so fiercely that both his feet were knocked from the stirrups.
When Faramarz saw that help had come to his comrade, that fighting ally proved useful to him.
He brought a sword down on Pilsam's spear, and the spear was cut clean through by his blade.
He struck again at the crest of Pilsam's helmet, and that battle-hungry sword shattered.
Pilsam kept wheeling against those two champions in the field like a furious lion.
Rustam looked out from the heart of the army and saw two brave and noble warriors,
locked in combat with a single lion of a man, kicking dust up toward the clouds.
Rustam knew that no Turk but Pilsam had such strength and such fierce breath.
And moreover, from the renowned wise men, from the words of the star-reading priests,
he had heard of good and evil fortunes in the stars; he had measured the world left and right,
that if Pilsam, spared the harshness of fate, gained wisdom and the discipline of a teacher,
no warrior anywhere, in Iran or Turan, could match him or gird a belt against him.
It seems his hour has come, for he has charged raging into my grip here.
He ordered his army not to move from their places, nor to advance even a step forward.
I will go and test the mettle of Pilsam, to see what sinew and stature and strength he has.
He took up a heavy war spear, pressed his thighs tight and set his helmet on his head.
The stirrups grew heavy and the reins light; he fixed his glittering spearpoint on his target.
Grim with fury, foam on his lips, he charged from the center to the front of the ranks.
He said: Renowned Pilsam, you wanted to burn me with your breath.
So he spoke, galloping like the wind, and exchanged a word or two in battle with him.
He drove a spear into Pilsam's waist and lifted him from the saddle like a ball.
He galloped all the way to the heart of the Turanian army and flung him down contemptuously in their midst.
He said: dress this one in yellow brocade, for the dust has turned him blue as lapis.
He turned his reins from that place and came roaring back to the center of his own army.
Piran wept tears from his lashes, seeing Pilsam's body beyond any healer's reach.
The heart of the army and the king of Turan were broken, and the battlefield went dark.
A roar rose from both armies, the war-hungry warriors shouting 'seize them, hold them!'
The war-drums thundered on the backs of elephants, their sound carrying for miles on every side.
The ground was worn down by the hooves of the horses; every mountain became a sea, every plain a mountain.
From the endless blare and wail of the trumpets, it seemed the very sky was shaken from its place.
The stones turned to coral and the dust to blood; the heads of proud commanders were struck down.
So many fell on both sides that the dust became a sea and the plain rose like a mountain.
A wind rose up from the battlefield, and the dust of the army covered the sky.
The two armies charged across the plain, unable to tell one another apart.
The world grew dark as a black night; you would think night had come close upon the day.
Afrasiab said this to his army: 'Our waking fortune has fallen asleep.'
'If even one of you slackens in the fight, no time will be left to me for delay.'
'Set your ambushes on them from every side; pin them to the earth with your spears.'
He himself came from the heart of Turan's army, his heart seared with hate, bent on vengeance against Tus.
He killed many of Iran's soldiers; Tus grew heartsick and turned his back to flee.
A man came seeking help to Rustam: 'Today this battle has lost its color and scent.'
'The whole field has become a sea of blood, and the banner of Iran's commander has fallen.'
The mighty-bodied one came from the center of the army, and behind him Faramarz with his company.
Many shield-bearers stood in the front whose hearts were hostile toward Rustam.
All were kin and allies of Afrasiab, all hearts full of hatred, heads rushing to war.
The champion killed many of them, while Faramarz and Tus came up at his back.
When Afrasiab looked at that purple banner, in the place where the standard stood,
he knew that the mighty warrior was Rustam, the proud one, of the line of Nariman.
He grew furious like a fighting leopard, pressed his heels to his horse, and went to battle him.
When Rustam saw that black banner, he roared like a raging lion.
The famous champion boiled over with rage and gave the rein to his swift-footed steed.
He grappled with the defiant Afrasiab; in that clash blood flowed like a river of water.
The commander of Turan's army drove his spear into the side of the vengeful Rustam.
The spearhead struck at the fastening of his belt, but it had no effect on his tiger-skin armor.
The champion turned to strike back in vengeance and drove a spear into the head of Afrasiab's horse.
The charger crashed down in pain from its head, and the warlike king was thrown from its back.
Rustam kept aiming for Human's waist, trying to cut short his fighting.
Human watched from a distance, then raised his heavy mace over his shoulder.
He struck the mighty hero on the shoulder, and a cry rose up from the army.
Rustam turned to look behind him, and the famous king slipped from his grasp.
The crown-bestowing hero flared with rage and spurred Rakhsh after Human.
He galloped and rushed after him, but the moment had passed and he could not catch him.
The Turkish commander did not fall into his hands; he had mounted a swift steed and fled.
When he turned away from battle with Rustam, the warmonger rode off in flight.
From every side the trumpets blared, and the sky itself seemed shaken from its place.
The shouts of the chiefs rose to the clouds, and the heavy maces came swinging down.
The warriors all raised their battle cries and lifted their spearheads toward the sky.
The whole ground was covered with the dead and wounded, as if red tulips had sprung up among yellow saffron.
The horses trampled blood beneath their hooves, and the elephants' feet turned crimson from the hearts of the slain.
The Turks fled like the wind, for Rustam's arm was dealing out his justice.
For three leagues, like a raging dragon, the great hero pursued the treacherous foe.
From there the mighty hero turned back, and the enemy army was thrown into utter disarray.
The noble Tus asked Rustam how the lion had taken his drum from a wild ass.
Rustam answered him: when a heavy mace remembers the necks of fighting men,
no heart of stone or anvil stays intact; first the striker's chest and arm must be strong.
The club with which Human struck me, do not call it iron; it was soft as wax.
They returned to their own camp, the whole army left with no need for spoils.
The entire plain was strewn with iron, silver, and gold: spearheads, harnesses, helmets, and belts.