The messenger reached close to Dastan

With a heart like fire, he was ablaze

He set his face towards the circle of Mehrab

And galloped with his army, brave warriors

When he saw Mehrab's foot firmly in place

He saw in him wisdom and thoughtful grace

He said to himself, 'What danger from the army?'

What of the Khazravans? They're but a handful of dirt!

Then he set his face towards the city

And when he reached the city, he sought glory

To Mehrab, he said, 'O wise man!'

You are praised in all your deeds and plan

Now I will act in the dark night

One hand I will stretch, and bathe them in blood's light

They will learn that I have returned

With hearts full of anger, I have come, concerned

A bow was slung tightly across his arm

An arrow he aimed at the tree’s branch, with harm

He looked around to see where the enemy stood

He sent a dart whirling, sharp and good

He loosed three arrows, hitting three spots

A cry rose from the traps and the knots

As night turned to day, the army gathered

Each one looked at the arrows, in awe they staggered

They said, 'This arrow is from Zal, and none can match'

None can shoot such arrows, no one can dispatch

When the shining sun rose high above

A roar of battle rose from the field, like a dove

Inside the city, the sound of a trumpet and horn

The clanging of bells and cries were reborn

The army emerged, pulling towards the Hirmand

Tents and elephants were brought out at hand

The army advanced before the enemy’s camp

The Hirmand river turned black with the camp

The Khazravans with poles and shields arrived

They charged at Zal, with golden might derived

He struck Zal's bright armor with a pole

And the renowned armor of Zal was torn whole

When the king of Zabulstan stood proud

The warriors of Kabulstan retreated, disavowed

Zal, the brave, donned his armor again

He entered the fight like a lion, fierce and plain

In his hand, the father held a mace

His head filled with rage and his heart with blood’s trace

He struck him with the mace, colored like a cow’s horn

The ground turned red, as though the panther’s back was torn

He broke and threw him, then passed beyond

He moved ahead of the army and into the field beyond

He called upon Shamasas, to emerge from the crowd

But he did not appear, the blood still fresh and proud

Within the circle, he found Kalbad

He raised steel upon his neck, a warrior so clad

When the swordsman saw the mace of Dastan

He vanished from sight, and quickly ran

Zal, mounted, strung his bow tight

And shot a dart that flew in flight

He struck Kalbad on his waist, so bold

The steel chain clattered, its grip took hold

Between them, the saddle’s mountain they did strike

And burned with rage, the army’s heart alike

As these two fell in the battle’s sight

Shamasas became heartless, his face turned white

Shamasas and his army, brave and strong

Scattered from the battle, they could not prolong

Then among the brave of Zabulstan

They went with the king of Kabulstan

So many were slain in the battlefield’s night

It seemed the world itself had contracted with fright

They laid their heads before the Turkic king

Their weapons loosed, their belts undone in a fling

When Shamasas reached the desert wide

From the path, the brave Kaveh appeared beside

He had returned from the Weisa army’s fight

In shame, he had slain his own, with no respite

Both armies collided, fierce and fast

Shamasas and Kaveh, enemies at last

Kaveh knew who they were, their origin clear

From Zabulstan, their ranks had appeared

He blew the iron horn and cleared the way

Ahead, his army marched in array

From that army, the tired and the bound

Under the sun’s shine, the dust swirled around

Shamasas fled with a few of his men

They left the dark battle’s dust, and then