Much moved and weeping sun-cheeked Katáyún
Went to the glorious Asfandiyár,
Her son, and said to him: “O thou that art
The memory of the heroes of the world!
Bahman hath told me that thou wouldest go
From this Rose-garden to Zábulistán,
And wilt put Rustam, son of Zál, in chains,
That master of the mace and scimitar!
Now hear of all things what thy mother saith:—
Rush not to evil and endeavour it not.
That cavalier of elephantine might
Disdaineth battle with the river Nile,
Dis-sundereth the White Dív's liverstead,
And maketh with his sword the sun to stray.
He slew the monarch of Hámávarán
Withal, and none is bold to chide with him.

When he took vengeance on Afrásiyáb
For Siyáwush he made earth like a sea
With blood. But if I were to talk for ever
I could not tell the tale of his good deeds.
Give not thy head for crown's sake to the winds,
For no one yet was born already crowned.
Thy father is an old man; thou art young—
A mighty man of hardihood and valour.
The whole host's eyes are on thee; plunge not then
Thyself through anger in calamities.
Sístán is not the sole place in the world,
Act not the youth and be not masterful.
Make me not sad in this world and the next,
But hearken to thy loving mother's words.”
Asfandiyár replied: “O loving mother!
Heed what I say: thou knowest Rustam well,
And what thou say'st of his accomplishment
Is true as Zandavasta. Thou mayst search
At large throughout Írán but wilt not find
A better man; 'twould be a shame to bind him.
Such ill, not good, proceedeth from the Sháh!
But still there is no need to break my heart,
Though if thou dost so I will tear it out.
How can I disobey the Sháh's command,
Forego a state like this? Grant that my life
Shall finish in Zábul; 'tis Heaven's process
That draweth me thither, and if Rustam yieldeth
He ne'er will hear unfriendly words from me.”
His mother's eyes rained blood, she tore her hair,
And cried: “O mighty, raging Elephant!
Strength maketh thee too prodigal of life.
Thou art no match for elephantine Rustam,
And therefore go not hence without a host.
Take not thy life, on thine own shoulders merely,
To that fierce Elephant; thy will to go
Is also miscreant Áhriman's for thee.
Oh pause! Take not thy children into Hell,
Or no wise man will call thee well-advised.”
The warlike prince made answer: “Not to take them
Would be unwise, for while a youth remaineth
Within the bower his spirit is repressed,
His mind is dark, and, O my prudent mother!
I want their help on every battlefield.
There is no need for me to take a host,
Just kith and kin and certain chiefs at most.”