When nine months passed for the king's daughter,

A son was born to her, like a shining moon.

You would say it is Rostam, the elephant-bodied hero,

Or it is Sam the lion, or it is Nirim.

When he smiled and made his face fresh,

They named him Sohrab, the son of Tahmineh.

When he was one month old, he was like one year old,

His growth was like Rostam, son of Zal.

When he was three years old, he took up the polo mallet,

At five, he took to heart the arrow and spear.

When he was ten years old, there was no one in that land,

Who dared to test battle with him.

He came to his mother and asked her,

He said to her, “Tell me boldly.”

“Why am I superior to my peers?

My head rises to the sky.”

“From whose seed am I and from what essence?

What should I say when someone asks about my father?”

“If this question remains hidden from me,

I will not leave you alive in the world.”

His mother said to him, “Listen to my words,

Be happy with this and do not be harsh.”

“You are the son of Rostam, the elephant-bodied hero,

From the lineage of Sam and Nirim.”

“That is why your head is higher than the sky,

Because your seed is from that famous essence.”

“Since the Creator created the world,

A rider like Rostam has not appeared.”

“When Sam Nariman was not in the world,

The heavens could not harm his head.”

She brought a letter from Rostam, the warrior,

She brought it and secretly showed it to him.

Three shining rubies with three gold beads,

His father had sent him from Iran.

Afrasiab said this to him,

No one should know this from beginning to end.

If your father recognizes that you, by this sign,

Have become a proud warrior, a neck-striker.

When he knows, he will call you near himself,

Your mother's heart will become wounded from pain.

Sohrab said thus, that in the world,

No one keeps this matter hidden.

Great warriors from ancient times,

Are telling stories of Rostam in this time.

A lineage that was like this has not fought,

What custom was it to hide it from me?

Now I, from the Turkic warriors,

Will bring up an endless army.

I will rouse Kavus from his throne,

I will take away the trace of Tus from Iran.

I will give the throne, mace, and crown to Rostam,

I will seat him on the throne of King Kavus.

From Iran, I will go to Turan as a warrior,

I will confront the king face to face.

I will seize the head of Afrasiab's throne,

I will place the head of my spear above the sun.

When Rostam is the father and I am the son,

No one should be a crowned ruler in the world.

When the faces of the sun and moon are bright,

Why should a star raise its crown?

From all sides, an army gathered around him,

Who were both of noble lineage and swordsmen.