Fereydun had his eyes fixed on the road

The army and the crown longing for the king

When the time for the king's return came

The father was unaware of the matter

He was preparing the turquoise throne for the king

He was setting gems into the crown

They prepared for the welcoming

They called for wine, musicians, and entertainers

They brought drums and elephants to his gate

They decorated every part of his land

The king and the army were in the saddle

A dark cloud of dust rose from the road

A camel came out of the dark dust

A mourning figure sat upon it in pain

The mourning heart let out a cry

A golden coffin in his embrace

Inside the golden coffin, a silk cloth

Iraj's head placed in the middle

With wailing and sighs, and a pale face

That bold man went before Fereydun

They lifted the lid from the golden coffin

For they considered his words insignificant

When they lifted the silk from the coffin

Iraj's severed head appeared

Fereydun fell from his horse to the ground

The entire army tore their garments

His face turned black and his eyes turned white

For he had hoped to see a different sight

When the king returned in such a manner

Thus the army returned from the welcoming

The banner torn and the drum turned upside down

The faces of the nobles as dark as ebony

The drum turned black and the face of the elephant

Indigo scattered over the Arabian horses

The general on foot, the army on foot as well,

Covered in dust, they took the path to dwell.

The cries of the warriors in agony were heard,

Tearing their flesh for that noble word.

Thus does the heavens turn upon us with disdain,

Seeking to seize what it shows in its domain.

Place no faith in the love of the fleeting time,

Its straightness is false, like an archer's bow's line.

If you make it your foe, it will feign affection,

But as a friend, its true face avoids detection.

One piece of advice I shall offer you, clear and true:

You must cleanse your heart of worldly love’s hue.

The army and the grieving king, in noisy despair,

Turned their path toward the garden of Iraj, fair.

On a day where kings' celebrations would shine,

And before, the halls of their feasts were divine.

Fereydun, the king, with his youthful son’s might,

Arrived with sorrow's cloak, bereft of delight.

He gazed upon the royal throne with despair,

The crownless head of the king no longer there.

The kings' pond and the tall cypress tree,

The blooming trees, willows, and quince to see.

He found the feast hall empty of the noble crowd,

And above, the sky wore a darkened shroud.

The garden burned, its face scarred and torn,

Tears fell, and he tore his hair, forlorn.

He girded his waist with a blood-stained belt,

And lit a fire in the palace where he dwelt.

He uprooted his garden, burned the cypress in despair,

And forever closed joy’s eyes with his care.

With Iraj’s head resting upon his knee,

He turned his own head toward the Lord to plea.

He cried, "O just and fair judge divine,

Behold this innocent slain, by fate’s design."

His head severed with a dagger before me

His body devoured by lions in that gathering

Burn the hearts of both oppressors in such a way

That they never see anything but dark days

Make their livers sear with anguish

That the old bring mercy upon them

I ask the radiant Creator

To grant me enough time from the world

That from Iraj's seed, a famous one

Will come and gird himself for this vengeance

When I see this, then it will be fitting for me

To measure the height of the soil

He wept so bitterly in this manner

Until plants grew around him

The ground was his bed and the soil his pillow

His world-view had become dark

His mouth closed, but his tongue free

He kept saying, 'O judge of the righteous'

No crowned one has died in such a manner

As this famous warrior has died

His head severed by the vile demon

His body became the shroud of lions

A wailing cry and eyes full of tears

He took peace and sleep from every beast and predator

Throughout his entire country, men and women

Had formed a gathering everywhere

All with eyes full of tears and hearts full of blood

Sitting in mourning with fervent hearts

All had donned dark and black garments

Sitting in sorrow, mourning the king

How many days they passed in this manner

They all considered life as death