English
The King's Letter to Rostam
Then the king commanded a letter be written to the renowned Rostam.
First he offered praise to the Creator, the ruler of the world who sustains all through time.
Then he blessed the champion: stay alert of heart and clear of mind.
You are the heart and backbone of Iran's warriors; in the grip and strength of lions, you are the one.
You broke the chains of Hamavaran, you seized back the frontier of Mazandaran.
At your mace the sun weeps; at your blade the star Venus is scorched.
No stretch of ground can match the dust your Rakhsh raises; in all the world no elephant can stand against you.
Your lasso brings the lion down; your spear tears a mountain up by its roots.
You are Iran's refuge from every evil; because of you the warriors raise their heads with pride.
A grievous trouble has come upon us; the thought of it has left my heart in wounds.
The warriors gathered before me together when we read that letter from Gazhdaham.
May it be that in all the world no one but you can answer any call for help.
The brave warriors judged it best that the noble Giv should come to you.
When you read this letter, by day or by night, do not open your lips to tell tales and linger.
Instead, with soldiers full of wisdom, ride out from Zabol and raise a battle cry.
For the one Gazhdaham described, no one but you should be his opponent in battle.
Then he said to Giv: like smoke you must set out, wearing down the reins of a swift horse.
You must reach Rostam; do not stay in Zabol, and do not sleep.
If you arrive by night, turn back by day; tell him the battle has closed in upon us.
This warrior is fierce and proud; an ill-wishing enemy must not be taken lightly.
He took the letter from him and, swift as water, set off, seeking neither rest nor sleep.
When he drew near to Zabolistan, the shout of the vanguard reached Dastan's ears.
The mighty Rostam came out to meet him with his army; the great men placed their helmets on their heads.
Giv dismounted, and the warriors together, everyone there, high and low alike.
The famed hero climbed down from his horse and asked after Iran and after the king.
From the road they went to Rostam's hall, stayed a while and caught their breath.
Giv told what he had heard and gave the letter, and spoke a little too about Sohrab.
When Rostam heard and read the letter, he laughed and marveled at the news.
That a rider like the hero Sam, among the great, had appeared in the world.
From the noble line this is no wonder; but from the Turks such a thing is hard to imagine.
I have a son from the daughter of the king of Samangan, and he is still a child.
That dear one does not yet know that when honor and shame are at stake, one must make war.
I sent much gold and many jewels to his mother by a trusted hand.
The answer came back that the noble boy would not take long to grow tall.
He drinks wine, his lips still smelling of milk; without doubt he will soon become a seeker of battle.
Let us stay one day and rest, and moisten our dry lips with a drink.
After that we will head toward the king and lead the warriors of Iran on the way.
Perhaps my shining fortune is asleep; otherwise a task like this is not so hard.
When the sea rises up in waves from its place, the swift, fiery breath cannot endure it.
When this boy sees my banner from afar, his heart will turn to mourning at the very hour of feasting.
He will not rush so eagerly into battle; there is no need to treat this matter as so urgent.
They reached for the wine and grew drunk, and in their revelry they forgot the commander.
The next day at dawn, still hungover, Rostam came and set things in order.
But that day too the drinking held him back, and setting out slipped his mind a second day.
On the third day at dawn he called for wine again, and King Kavus never crossed his mind.
On the fourth day Giv made ready and spoke to the brave commander.
Kavus is hot-tempered and not calm; this matter will not seem trivial to his heart.
He was troubled by this affair, his heart in turmoil, so that food, rest, and sleep had left him.
If we delay here in Zabolistan and turn again from wine to war and fighting,
the king of Iran will grow angry with us and, from a rash impulse, seek revenge.
Rostam said to him: do not worry about that, for no one on earth would rise against us.
He ordered Rakhsh to be saddled and the brazen trumpets to be blown, note after note.
The riders of Zabol heard the trumpet and set out with helmets and armor from their places.