To Gushtham and Tus came this announcement

That the royal glory of the king has turned dim

With a sharp sword, the crowned head was struck

They cut it off in sorrow, and the work was undone

They shaved their heads and dirtied their faces

From Iran, came a great cry of disgrace

The heads of the tyrants became full of dust and ash

All eyes were full of blood, all garments torn with rash

They set their faces toward Zabulistan's land

The king spoke, and the king’s soul sought

They went to Zal with grief and pain

Their faces covered in blood, their heads full of dust again

That Zara, the brave, was with King Nozar

Witness to the crowned, to the noble star

The guardian of Iran and the king of the world

The head of the crowned and the back of the noble unfurled

Your head, the officer, seeks the earth below

The land smells of the blood of kings in sorrow

The plants that grow upon this land’s floor

Will bow their heads in shame before the sun's core

We will cry out for justice and plead for grace

Mourning the blood of our father, we’ll brace

The mark of Fereydun lived through him still

The earth, the hooves of his steed, did fulfill

With sorrow and disgrace, they severed his head

They cut it off, with the renowned assembly in dread

All drew their swords, poison-laden and bright

They came to seek vengeance, to slay the enemy in sight

Indeed, the heavens grieve with us this day

From the eyes, blood fell, as stars turned gray

You too, let your eyes fill with sorrowed blood

And cast aside your silken robes with mud

For with the hatred of kings, no eye should see

No eye should remain unfilled, with anger's plea

The entire assembly, sorrowful and in tears

Like being roasted over a fierce fire, consumed by fears

The tongue declared in judgment that until the Day of Resurrection

No sharp sword shall see my hand’s progression

The camel's saddle rests beneath my throne

The spear's pointed tip is like a tree in my own

The stirrup supports my foot in its place

A darkened helmet covers my head with grace

On this bitterness, there is no peace nor rest

For like my two eyes, there’s no stream’s quest

May the soul of the world’s ruler shine bright

And gleam among the great ones, a beacon of light

May you be judged by the Creator of the world

And may your heart rest in the laws of faith unfurled

From our mother, we are all born to die

Here we stand, with necks offered to the sky

When the forces rushed toward hatred’s fight

In Sari, the leaders learned of their plight

They were struck with fear, no rest, no sleep

Filled with dread from Afrasiab, they began to weep

Then a message came to Aghirith’s ear

O noble, wise one, of name so clear

In the world, by your words we live and strive

One by one, we are your faithful, alive

You know that Dastan is in Zabulistan’s land

And with the king of Kabulistan, he will stand

Like Barzin and Qaran, warriors strong

Like Kharrad and Keshvad, whose armies belong

They are like lions with long claws held high

They hold such strength, none from Iran can defy

When the forces from this side turn their reins

They set their eyes upon the spear’s sharp veins

From that sharpness, Afrasiab’s trace will flee

His heart will race with fury from his kin, you’ll see

Then the head of a guiltless flock will fall

For the sake of the crown, they’ll bring it to the wall

If Aghirith, the wise, should see the deed

He will release these kinsfolk from their need

We will scatter, turning around the world’s span

Our tongues will speak before the noble man

Let us praise before the great ones

And pray to the Creator, the Eternal One

Thus spoke Aghirith, the wise one, with care

Such words, who is worthy to declare?

From me, open enmity shall arise

The head of the wicked shall boil in disguise

I shall find a way, unlike this strife

So that no brother shall turn against me in life

If Dastan becomes a warrior with sharp claws

He will bring an army to fight, without pause

When he brings the herds near Sari's gate

I shall entrust you all to Dastan’s fate

I shall go to Amol, but will not fight

I will bring shame upon my head from my plight

The elders of Iran listened to his voice

And placed their faces upon the earth, by choice

When they finished their creation of the world’s plan

They rushed out from Sari as fast as they can

They searched near Dastan, son of Sam

And brought the message from those of high fame

That our world lord has granted us grace

Aghirith, the wise, is now our companion in place

We made a strong vow, bound in one

And laid down our words, until the battle was done

From Iran, like Dastan, a free man strong

They come to fight, where battles belong

Aghirith, the noble, of righteous heart

He passed from Amol, leading his troops to the start

Unless freed from the grasp of this dragon’s grip

The body of the world’s people shall slip

When the traveler reached Zabulistan’s land

The poet came before Dastan, as planned

He called the elders and warriors together

And sent the message of heroes to weather

Then he said, O leaders, hear my plea

The warlike tigers and those known in history

Which man has the heart of a lion bold?

Who in battle, has his courage sold?

The buyer of this war and this charge

Lifting his neck towards the sun at large

The tiger struck the work of the valiant hand

I am, said Yazan, with justice in command

Go and praise, blessed Zal, indeed

For your joy will last as long as the moon and creed

An army of warriors, fierce and bold

From Zabul to Amol, they headed toward their goal

When the army departed from Dastan’s front

Aghirith, the good, was notified of the hunt

All the relatives remained in Sari’s care

He blew the bronze horn and sent the army to dare

When Goshawad arrived with joy in his stride

The key appeared, unlocking the ties

He made a horse for each of them to ride

From Sari to Zabul, they began their stride

When the news reached Dastan, son of Sam

That Goshawad returned with wisdom, not a scam

He gave a special treasure to the poor man’s hold

And gave the poet his own robe of gold

When Goshawad approached near Zabul’s gate

Zal greeted him with gold, as it was fate

The relatives wept bitterly for long

For they had been left in the lion’s stronghold all along

After the famous Nozar, the king did cry

He fell to the ground and wept, asking why

He brought them to the city, honored and bright

And decorated the grand halls in sight

Just as the time for Nozar had been right

With crown, throne, and helmet, they took their flight

Dastan decorated his entire camp with care

And the army was free from all demands, fair