He had a son, whom he named Garsasp’s fame

His father had named him, as mighty Garsasp’s claim

He came, sat upon the throne, in his rightful place

On his head, he placed the crown of kingship’s grace

As he sat on the throne and seat of his father’s reign

He held the world with beauty and grandeur’s gain

Until this world, under time, began to take flight

The tree of misfortune brought forth its bitter blight

The Turks learned that he passed, the throne left bare

Thus, the throne became empty, no longer in care

Afrosiyab came to the poor land of Rey

He forgave the world and left behind the sway

No one brought salutations for Pashang’s name

His head was full of hatred, and his heart aflame

His heart, from the throne, had turned a life of blade

He was stained with Agriya’s care, a cruel trade

He never showed his face, Pashang’s heart turned cold

That bright sword became covered in rust, its glow grew old

The messenger went to him, bearing news of doom

Neither year nor month ever showed their bloom

He spoke, 'If you give the throne’s crown a trace'

If Agriya’s ally, worthy, you had granted grace

You would spill the brother’s blood in endless chase

You would flee from the bird you once raised with grace

With you, I have no work, no further affair

There is no way to meet you, not now, nor near

The news spread far and wide, with much cheer

The throne of the king was left in dismay

A message came, as if from stone’s gray

From Pashang, the brave, a message did bring

Leave behind the Jihun, and raise the army’s wing

Do not allow anyone to sit upon the throne

Afrosiyab raised an army, to make the throne his own

From the plains of Sepijab to the river’s flow

You said that the earth became a flowing sky

And from the blade of the Indian sword, it rains by

One by one, the news reached Iran’s land

That a buyer came for the throne so grand

They set their face towards the land of Zabul’s way

The world became filled with talk and dismay

They spoke with Zal, with harsh words at length

Saying, 'You took the world with ease and strength'

From Sam, until you became the warrior so bold

We never had a day that was clear, untold

An army from the Jihun river came to ride

And the sun itself disappeared from the sky

If you know the solution, then make it clear

For the commander has come, with danger near

Then Zal, the famous, spoke in reply

‘As long as I tighten my belt with courage high’

A rider like me, who mounts the steed with pride

No one will take my sword or mace aside

To the place where I press my foot down tight

The reins of the riders will be torn in flight

I was the same day and night in the fray

And through aging, I feared the passing of day

Now the lion’s mane has turned in disarray

The Kabul dagger no longer shines its ray

Now Rustam became as a mighty cypress tree

And wore a crown fit for the moon’s decree

One must have a steed for war, fierce and true

From these Arab steeds, none will do

I seek one, a champion, strong in his way

I will gather those who stand with courage to stay

I will call upon Rustam to hear this tale

For you are the hero who will never fail

In the hatred of his offspring’s lineage long

You will tie the bond, and never go wrong

All the cities of Iran were joyful at his words

They were happy at heart and their faces were renewed

From every direction, the brave warriors rushed

They built the weapons of the mounted warriors’ thrust

Thus spoke to Rustam, 'O mighty champion'

Your head is higher than all others’ station'

A task ahead, and a long struggle too

From which sleep, peace, and comfort will break through

For you, there is no time for peace and rest

What can I do, when the time for festivity is missed?

Still, from your lips, the scent of honey lingers

Your heart seeks tenderness and joy that figures

How can I send you to the battlefield of strife

To face the Turks filled with hatred and life’s knife

What will you say, what will you play, what reply?

That your mate may be as the moon, so high

Thus spoke Rustam to the hands of Sam

I am not a man of calm, nor of the wine’s calm

Such a mane, and these long, mighty claws

They were not raised in gentleness, but in war’s laws

If the field of vengeance comes, with battle fierce

I will be with the gods, victorious and fierce

You will see how I become in war’s dire way

As I turn into a river of blood in dismay

I have a cloud in my hand, dark and profound

It’s like water, but its rain will be blood unbound

It will kindle fires from its precious core

It will crush the brains of elephants galore

One must have a blow as strong as a mountain high

Like mine, which traps in its curve, no escape to deny

I want a mace like a chunk of mountain so grand

When the Turanian troops come, they will be at hand

I will strike their leaders with that mace's power

None will stand against me, in this crucial hour

I will make the earth empty of warriors’ might

And rain down blood like clouds in the fight