At cock-crow, when the dawn began to break
And when the tymbal's din rose from the court,
An army marched out to the waste from Gang,
And cramped the very ants and gnats for room.
Approaching the Gulzaryún the host
Made earth like Mount Bístún. The army marched
Three days and nights. The world was full of turmoil
And din of war. The column stretched seven leagues,
And soldiers were more plentiful than ants
Or locusts. On the fourth day they drew up
In line. From stream to sun the flash of arms
Ascended. Jahn, son of Afrásiyáb,
Whose spears o'ershot the sun, was on the right.
Afrásiyáb took station at the centre
With chieftains, sages, and proud cavaliers.
Kubard, the lion-warrior, held the left
With cavaliers brave and experienced.

Revengeful Garsíwaz was in the rear
To guard the army from the enemy.
Full in the centre on the other side
Khusrau supported like a hill his host.
With him were Tús, son of Naudar, Gúdarz,
And Manúshán, high born Khúzán, Gurgín,
Son of Mílád, the lion Gustaham,
Hajír and brave Shídúsh. Upon the right
Was Faríburz, son of Káús. The troops
Were one in soul and body. On the left
Was Minúchihr, who held his own in battle.
Gív, offspring of Gúdarz, the guard and stay
Of every march, was in the rear. The plain
Became a sea, the earth an iron hill
Of horseshoe-nails, the hoofs were tulip-hued.
A cloud of black dust gathered overhead,
The hearts of flints split at the tymbals' din,
Earth heaved like murky clouds; thou wouldst have
said:—
“It will not bear the hosts!” The air resembled
An ebon robe, the drumming frayed the stars.
The field was naught but heads, brains, hands, and
feet:
Good sooth, no room remained. The chargers trampled
On lifeless heads and all the waste was filled
With trunkless heads and hands and feet. The wise
Were not in evidence and both hosts owned:—
“If on this field of anguish and revenge
The troops continue thus a further while
No horsemen will survive, and in good sooth
The sky itself will fall!” At all the crashing
Of ax on helmet souls farewelled their bodies.
When Kai Khusrau observed the battle's stress,
The world grown straitened to his heart, he went
Apart and prayed to God to do him right:—
“O Thou beyond the ken of saints,” he said,
“The Lord of this world and the King of kings!
If I had never been a man oppressed,
And tried like iron in the crucible,
I would not ask to be victorious,
Or urge my cause upon the righteous Judge.”
He spake and laid his face upon the ground;
His bitter lamentations filled the world.
At once there came a furious blast, which snapped
The green boughs, from the battlefield raised dust
And blew it in the Turkmans' eyes and faces.
Afrásiyáb, apprised that any one
Had turned his back on fight, beheaded him,
And made the dust and sand his winding-sheet.
Thus was it till the heaven and earth grew dark,
And many Turkmans had been taken captive.
Night came and donned its musk-black garniture,
Preventing fight. Then both the kings recalled
Their hosts, for heaven and earth alike were dark.
The mountain-skirt down to the river-bank
Was naught but troops in breastplate, mail, and helm,
Who set the watch-fires blazing round about,
While outpost-guards went forth on every side.
Afrásiyáb took order for the fight,
But tarried till the fountain of the sun
Should rise, light up the faces of the hills,
And make earth like a ring of Badakhshán;*

Then would he bring his noblest cavaliers
To strive for glory on the battlefield;
Howbeit God appointed differently,
And everything must yield to His decree.