English
Sohrab Questions Hojir
When the sun threw its lasso toward the heights, flames rose from the high wheel of the sky.
Sohrab put on his battle armor and mounted his stone gray horse.
An Indian sword in his grip, a royal helmet on his head.
A lasso coiled sixty loops on his saddle, coil upon coil, his face set grim.
He rode out and chose a high hill, a place from which he could see the Iranians.
He ordered Hojir brought before him and said to him: an arrow flies straight.
The target must not bend aside; when it twists, the blow falls short.
In everything, make honesty your practice, if you want no harm to touch you.
Whatever I ask, speak the whole truth; never turn your face from the straight path.
If you want to win your freedom from me and stand proud in every gathering,
answer everything I ask about Iran; never turn your face from the straight path.
I will hand you a treasure fit for kings; you will gain robes of honor and much wealth.
But if your mind bends toward deceit, then chains and prison will be your place.
Hojir answered him: my lord, whatever you ask about the army of Iran,
I will tell him all I know. Why should I speak to you in lies?
Sohrab said: I will ask you about all of them, the proud chiefs, the king, and the ranks.
All the famous men of that land, men like Tus, Kavus, and Gudarz,
Bahram and the renowned Rostam; name for me every one I ask about.
Tell me: that pavilion of seven colors, with leopard skin tents inside it,
a hundred mighty war elephants tethered before it, and a litter as blue as the Nile,
a tall banner with the sun for its emblem, tipped with a golden moon, its sheath purple,
at the heart of the army, whose place is that? Among the champions of Iran, what is his name?
He answered: that is the king of Iran; at his court stand elephants and lions.
Then he said: on the right wing there are many horsemen, elephants, and baggage.
A black pavilion raised up, with troops pitched all around it on every side,
countless tents circling it, elephants behind and heights before it.
An elephant emblazoned banner planted before it, at its gate horsemen in golden boots.
He said: that is Tus, son of Nozar, the one whose banner bears the elephant device.
Then he said: that red pavilion, with many horsemen standing around it,
a banner in gold with a lion device, a jewel gleaming at its center.
He said: that is the glory of the noble ones, Godarz of the line of Keshvad, conqueror of the world.
He asked about that green pavilion, with a huge army standing before it.
A splendid throne set in its midst, and before it the royal banner of Kaveh raised high.
On it sits a warrior, majestic, broad of shoulder, with the neck of a hero.
Above everyone who stands before him, his head rises a full forearm higher.
A steed stands before him, as tall as he is, with a lasso hanging down to its feet.
The horse keeps roaring under him; you would think it churns beneath the saddle.
Many armored elephants stand before him, while that man seethes there in his place.
No man in Iran matches his height, nor do I see a horse that is its equal.
He saw a banner shaped like a dragon, with a golden lion's head on the spear.
Hojir said: a famous man came recently from China to serve the king.
Sohrab asked lucky Hojir his name; he said: I do not have his name to tell you.
I was inside this fortress at the time when he came to join the king.
Sohrab's heart grew heavy at this, for no sign of Rostam had come to light.
His mother had given him the signs of his father; he kept searching, but his eyes could not confirm them.
He kept hunting for the name from Hojir's lips, hoping those words would finally please his heart.
But what was written on his brow was otherwise; fate neither lessens nor adds to its decree.
After that he asked about those great lords whose pavilion was pitched off to the side.
Many horsemen and elephants standing there, and the wail of the war trumpet rising up.
A banner with a wolf's figure above it, its golden head raised over the tent.
Hojir told him: that is the son of Godarz, called Giv, whom the champions name Giv the Brave.
He is the greatest and finest of the sons of Godarz, and among the Iranians he stands head above the rest.
Sohrab said: on that side, toward the shining sun, I see a white pavilion rising.
Before it, horsemen in Roman brocade, drawn up in ranks more than a thousand strong.
Foot soldiers with shields and spearmen, an endless army gathered together.
The commander sits on an ivory throne, with a chair of teak set upon that ivory.
Fine brocade draped down from the litter, and slaves standing rank upon rank.
By the tent near the pavilion, in the entryway a number of men stand on foot.
Hojir said: call him Fariborz, for he is the king's son and the crown of the champions.
Sohrab asked about that red pavilion, with a number of men standing on foot in the entryway.
All around him, red and gold and purple banners of every kind were raised.
Behind them stood a banner bearing the figure of a boar, its top a golden moon, its shaft tall and high.
Hojir said: his name is Goraz, a man who never bows to fear in battle with lions.
He is shrewd, of the line of the house of Giv, and hardship and pain never make him whine.
Sohrab sought word of his father, but Hojir would not tell him; he kept the truth hidden away.
Whatever plans you make in this world, the world has already made its own; the Lord of the world has settled this matter.
Fate had written it differently; what fate hands over, you must let go.
Again Sohrab asked the proud commander about the one he so longed to see.
About that green pavilion and the tall man, about that horse and that twisted lasso.
Then Hojir the commander told him: why should I hide anything from you?
If I fall silent on this name, it is only because I do not know the man.
Sohrab said to him: this is not fair; you have not mentioned Rostam at all.
The champion of the world cannot stay hidden among the army.
You said that he is the chief over the host, the guardian of every border and every land.
Hojir answered him: it may be that the lion-hearted hero
has by now gone off to Zabolestan, for it is the season of feasting in the flowering gardens.
Sohrab said: do not say such a thing, that the commander has turned his face away from war.
That the champion of the world sits back in pleasure; old and young alike would laugh at him.
I have one bargain with you today; let me speak, and our words will be few.
If you show me the champion, you will be honored in every gathering.
I will make you free of want in this world; I will open hidden treasures for you.
But if you keep this secret from me, and cover up the plain truth,
your head will not stay upon your body; look and see which choice serves you best.
Do you not recall what the sage told the king when he unveiled the secret from its hiding?
A word unspoken is like a jewel still untouched by the cutter's stone.
But once it is freed from its bindings, it becomes a brilliant, priceless gem.
Hojir answered him: when the king grows weary of his crown, his throne, and his glory,
he looks for someone in the world to face in combat, someone mighty enough to bring down a raging elephant.
Anyone who has Rostam as his opponent will have his head dragged down from the sky into the dust.
His body holds the strength of a hundred strong men, and his head rises higher than a tall tree.
When he grows angry on the day of battle, it makes no difference whether his opponent is a raging elephant or a man.
No elephant on earth can stand against him; the dust his horse Rakhsh kicks up looks like blue indigo.
Sohrab said to him: unlucky is Gudarz of the line of Kishvad.
Why should he ever have to call you his son, with all this strength, this knowledge, and this skill of yours?
Where have you ever seen real warriors? You have not even heard the sound of a warhorse's hooves,
that you go on talking so much about Rustam and let your tongue open in his praise.
You should fear fire only as long as the sea lies calm and smiling.
When the green sea rises from its place, the swift, fierce fire loses its breath.
The head of darkness sinks into sleep when the sun draws its sword from its sheath.
Then the experienced Hujir thought to himself: if I point out this lion-catching champion,
if I tell this Turk, with his powerful arm, this broad build and this kingly bearing,
he will single Rustam out from the army and the assembly and drive this elephant-bodied warhorse at him.
With this strength, these shoulders and this frame of his, Rustam may be slain in his grip.
Then no avenger would rise from Iran, and he would seize the throne of King Kavus.
The wise priest has said: to die with honor is better than to live and let the enemy rejoice.
If I am killed by his hand, the day will not turn black nor the stream run with blood.
With Gudarz and his seventy chosen sons, all the champions who are blessed and praised,
Iran will not be left without defenders, so let me perish. This is how I keep the pure priest's counsel:
that when the cypress is torn up by the roots from the meadow, it is fitting the pheasant no longer smells the grass.
He said to Sohrab: what madness is this? All you speak of to me is Rustam, Rustam.
You should not seek battle with him; on the field he will grind you into dust.
You will never break that elephant-bodied hero; he does not come easily into anyone's hands.