When Rustam saw what Qaran had done

How he had arranged the disgrace and battle begun

He went to his father and asked him with care

Tell me, O Champion of the world, what is there to prepare?

That Afrasiab, the ill-minded man

Where will he stand on the day of the battle's span?

What will he wear, where will his standard rise high?

For the purple standard shines clear in the sky

Today, I will seize his waist's binding with might

I will drag him, bringing him into the fight

Zal said to him, 'Son, listen and beware'

For today, keep your wits and self-aware

That Turk is a male dragon in battle, fierce and strong

In his approach and hatred, he is a storm of wrong

His standard is black, and his armor is dark

His arms are of iron, and his helmet, too, stark

His entire face is covered in gold and steel

A black mark is fastened upon him, a sign of his seal

Guard yourself closely from him, my son

For he is a brave man, destined to be the one

Rustam said to him, 'O Champion of great renown'

Do not trouble yourself, let no worries bring you down

The Creator of the world is my ally and friend

My heart, my sword, and my arm, my defense till the end

Then Rakhsh, the horse, lifted his noble hoof

And with a cry, the bull's roar did resound from the roof

When Afrasiab saw him approaching from the plains

He marveled at the boy, who was not yet fully trained

He asked the Turks, 'Who is this dragon fierce?'

Released from his bonds in this manner, he appears

I do not know his name, who bears this grudge

One said, 'This is the son of Dastan, Sam's lineage'

Do you not see that he comes with Sam's mace?

He is young, seeking fame, to make his place

Afrasiab came forward to face the army's span

Like a ship whose waves rise up from the land

When Rustam saw him, he pressed with his thighs

And raised his heavy mace, preparing for the skies

As they came together, the earth became tight

Rustam drove the heavy mace into the saddle with might

He seized his waist in a firm, vice-like hold

And pulled him off his saddle, bold

He sought to take him to Kavad, to the king

To deliver the first day of war, his judgment would bring

From the sound of the commander and the horseman’s harp

The sturdy belts of the waist were not to be found

It broke, and his head fell to the ground

The horsemen gathered around him, circling in bounds

When the commander escaped from Rustam’s grasp

Rustam struck with his backhanded lash

Why, he said, did I not grab him by the neck?

I made a good knot around his waist, to check

When the sound of the bell came from behind the elephant

The shout of the drums echoed for miles, omnificent

One brought the news to the king

That Rustam had split the heart of the army’s ring

Until he reached the Shah of the Turks

The banner of the commander vanished without perks

He seized his belt and threw him down in disgrace

A cry rose from the Turks in their bitter space

From his place, Qobad rose like a fire

The army stirred like the sea, whipped by desire

A roar rose, crashing like an axe and club

The flash of daggers, wounds like splintered stub

On golden arrows and golden shields that gleam

Grief struck the head, split like an ax’s beam

You would say that a cloud came from a corner afar

From vermilion, it struck like a trickster’s star

From the dust of the horsemen in that vast plain

The earth became six and the sky, eight in its reign

A thousand and one hundred sixty brave men strong

With a single blow, they fell, like lions in song

The Turks fled before the Magi’s view

And turned their army toward Damghan’s due

From there, they turned to the Jihun’s flow

Their hearts were broken with sorrow, heavy and low

Their weapons broken, their belts torn apart

No trumpets, no drums, no feet, nor head to start