Nine months passed and a moon-like babe was born;
Thou wouldst have said: “'Tis elephantine Rustam,”
Or else: “'Tis lion-Sám,” or “Narímán,”
And since the babe smiled and was bright of blee
Tahmína gave to him the name Suhráb.
He looked a year old in a month, his chest
Was like his sire's, at three he exercised
In arms, at five he had a lion-heart,
At ten none dared encounter him in fight.
He bluntly asked his mother once: “Now tell me,
Since none of my milk-fellows can compare
With me, and my head reacheth to the sky,
Of what stock am I and of what descent?
What shall I say when asked about my father?
Thou shalt not live unless thou answer me.”
His mother said: “Then listen and rejoice,
But be not rash. Thou art the son of Rustam,
The hero of the elephantine form,
The progeny of Zál the son of Sám,
And Narímán. Thy head out-toppeth heaven
Because thou comest of the famous stock,
For never since the Maker made the world
Hath there appeared a cavalier like Rustam,
Nor one like Sám the son of Narímán,
Whose head the heaven itself dared not to touch.”
She brought and showed a letter from his sire,
Three bright gems, and three purses filled with gold,
Sent to him by his father at his birth
With these words: “Guard these well, because thy sire
Hath sent them unto thee, O noble child!”
His mother said besides: “Afrásiyáb
Must not know aught hereof. He is the foe
Of Rustam and the troubler of Túrán.
May he ne'er seek revenge upon thyself
And slay the son in dudgeon at the sire.
Moreover, if thy father shall perceive
Of what a stamp thou art, so high and proud,
Then will he summon thee and rend my heart.”