The monarch bade the messenger return
To brave Pírán, that man of prosperous counsels,
With this reply: “O warrior famed and true!
Since thy pure mother bare thee thou hast made
Thyself my shield. Thou standest first with me,
And rankest o'er the other paladins,

Still choosing toil in all affairs with all
Thy wealth for me, conducting hosts Íránward
From Chín, and blackening foes' hearts and fortunes.
Prince and the paladin of earth art thou;
A thousand blessings be upon thy soul!
Thy friendship dateth from Pashang and Túr;
The heaven raiseth not a paladin,
The army seeth not a general,
And no sage girdeth up his loins, like thee.
First for thy saying: ‘I was most to blame
For Kai Khusrau's escape and his revenge.’
Know thou that I, the king, am not aggrieved,
And never laid the matter to my heart,
So let not thine be straitened for this cause
Or fear disgrace. God will accomplish what
He hath decreed, and needeth not a teacher.
Call not Khusrau my grandson; it is false,
Because his Grace deriveth not from me.
I will not ever be a grandsire to him,
Or take advantage of our kinsmanship.
In this affair of his none is to blame;
Nor do I strive against the Omnipotent:
What happened was according to His will;
Why then should my heart be aggrieved at thee?
And secondly thou speakest of the army,
And of the bias of sky, sun, and moon;
But heaven's bias is not all one way,
It giveth sometimes sorrow, sometimes joy;
Be not heart-broken then on this account,
Impose not chains like these upon thy soul.
Thus is it written in respect of warfare:
The sky abandoneth all sides in turn,
It raiseth to the sun and casteth down.
To talk about the slain is but to dream;
Forgo not to take vengeance for thy brother;
The heart in anguish for a brother's loss
Will not be cured by leeches' remedies.
Thou sayest thirdly: ‘Kai Khusrau hath left
His throne and cometh with his army hither.’
The tidings that have reached thee: ‘Kai Khusrau
Is coming from his kingdom,’ are not true,
For it is Tús, the general, with his troops
That is upon the march to Dahistán;
May no one ever look upon the day
When he shall outstrip us, for I myself
Will lead the host o'er the Jíhún at dawn.
I will not spare Gúdarz, Khusrau, or Tús,
Or throne, or crown, or troops, or kettledrums,
But so attack Írán that none shall see
The Sháh's throne more. I will not leave the world
For Kai Khusrau, but take him unawares,
And let his mother mourn a headless son,
Unless the will of heaven be otherwise.
Oh noble veteran! God hath suffered thee
To lack for naught; all that thou wouldst is thine
Of men, of treasure, and of might of hand.
A splendid force of thirty thousand men—
Intrepid, shrewd, and gallant cavaliers—
Behold! I have dispatched to reinforce thee,
And brighten thy dark mind, for ten Íránians
Would look but small compared with one of these.
On their arrival tarry not a day,
Deprive Gúdarz of both his head and crown,
Drag off with thine own steeds the very mountains
Whereon he hath entrenched his host, and when
Thou hast the victory be not slack in bloodshed.”
The envoy, having heard the monarch's message,
Came to the captain of the host. Pírán,
On hearing, called the troops. The messenger
Repeated all the words, which gave good heart
To all and freed them from their griefs, albeit
Pírán was inly sorrowful of soul,
His heart was full, his fortune soiled, he saw
His king's host shrunk by battle everywhere,
He feared withal an onslaught by Khusrau,
And thus he prayed: “O Thou, the Omnipotent!
What marvels happen in this life of ours!
No outcast he whom Thou hast set on high!
Save Thee there is no world-lord, none abiding.
Khusrau for instance! Who supposed till now
That he would be a king? How turning fortune
Hath helped a self-made man! From withered thorns
He bringeth forth fresh roses, and for him
His sleepless fortune turneth dust to musk!
Do one more marvel: let that noble man
Possess his soul in sorrow evermore!
Between two kings—a grandsire and a grandson—
I know not why this battlefield is needed.
What with two warlike monarchs of two realms,
What with two armies serried face to face,
How can I tell the issue of this strife
And fortune's trend?”

Then wailing bitterly

He prayed: “O glorious and almighty Judge!
If on this battlefield Afrásiyáb,
With other nobles of the Turkman host,
Shall perish in the struggle, and the head
Of all our fortunes shall be overthrown
When Kai Khusrau shall come forth from Írán
For vengeance, and the world be turned to him,

I am content to have my breastplate pierced,
And that the Omnipotent should take my soul.
Ne'er may these eyes of mine behold the man
That followeth the course that I have followed,
For unto him whose daily course is run
In disappointment life and death are one.”