Pírán departed full of pain and fear,
Heart-rent at Rustam's doings. He approached
The army of Írán and cried: “O chief,
And lover of the fray! I heard that thou
Hadst called for me of all this countless host
Of Turkmans, and have come forth from my lines
To thine to see what thou wouldst have of me.”
When noble Rustam knew that from the Turkmans
A warrior approached he met Pírán
Before the host, an iron helm on head.
“What is thy name, O Turkman!” he demanded,
“What is thy will and purpose in this coming?”
The other said: “Pírán am I, the chief
Of yonder chieftains. Thou hast asked Húmán,
The son of Wísa, for me in kind words,
Which made my heart yearn toward thee, paladin!
Declare to me which of the chiefs thou art.”
He answered: “I am Rustam of Zábul,
My sword is from Kábul, my clothing mail.”
Pírán, on hearing noble Rustam's words,
Dismounted and did reverence. Rustam said:—
“I greet thee from the bright-souled Sun Khusrau,

O paladin! and from his mother too,
The daughter of Afrásiyáb, who dreameth
Of thy love every night.”

Pírán replied:—

“I greet thee also, elephantine chief!
In God's name and the host's. May He Who giveth
All good things bless thee, may thy signet be
A passport to the sky. Thanks be to God,
My Refuge, that I see thee here. Are Zál,
The son of Sám, Zawára, Farámarz,
Those men of prudent hearts and prosperous—
May this world never know the want of them—
Are they in health, good spirits, and estate?
Now will I speak unless thou take it ill
That subjects should complain of those in power.
I planted in the Garden once a Tree,
Whose leaves proved colocynth, whose fruit proved
blood,
And it hath caused me many grievous tears,
For, though 'twas once my treasure and my life,
It now hath brought me grief and yieldeth bane
Instead of antidote, for Siyáwush
Esteemed me as his sire and shield from harm,
While I gave him my daughter and a province,
That he might illustrate my race; but some
Have slain him and my daughter cruelly,
And haply thou wilt say it served me right.
Great are the care, the anguish, and the pains,
That I have suffered both from king and people,
And God shall be my witness in the world,
Although to call the Almighty as a witness
Is wrong, and though so long a time hath passed,
And I have heard much counsel from the wise,

That mourning hath not ceased within my house,
And that my soul is still aflame with grief,
That I pour out my blood instead of tears,
And constantly am in the leech's hands.
That act hath ruined me, heaven hath not turned
As I could wish; I, since I learned the fate
Of Siyáwush, have done naught, good or ill,
But been between two realms and two great kings
In anguish, misery, and impotence.
I risked my life for Farangís, whose father
Had sought to slay her, but I kept her hidden
In mine own house, providing for her there.
She in return would have my life, would have
Her foemen's heads from me! All grief am I,
O paladin! and both sides rail at me.
I have no way to flee Afrásiyáb,
I have no other resting-place or home;
I am concerned for treasure, lands, and herds,
And see not any pretext for departing;
I have my sons and many women-folk,
Such are the cares and ties of every one.
Whene'er Afrásiyáb commandeth war
He will not suffer me to close mine eyes;
Against my will I must lead forth the host,
I may not disobey. The occasion now
Is one for pity not for war with me.
Had I no other pain and grief at heart
About my kin save that Pílsam was slain…*

But there are many other gallant youths,
Who have not had their fill of combating,
And seeing that I tremble for my life
I speak about my sons and property.
By God the Conqueror, O paladin!
Be not incensed against me, harbour not
A grudge against my kin, keep God in mind.

Now by the illustrious soul of Siyáwush
I swear that death is better far for me
Than breastplate, sword, and helm, for if our troops
Engage thou wilt see mountains of the slain;
Yet those from Shakn, Kashán, Sakláb, and Hind—
The lands between the Indus and this march—
Are guiltless of the blood of Siyáwush,
Though brought as soldiers to this battlefield.
Peace bettereth war with me. Be not too hard.
Speak out thy mind; thou art more wise than I,
And mightier in war and prowess.”

Rustam

Replied not as Pírán desired but said:—
“Since I and other warriors of the Sháh
Armed for the field I have seen naught but good
From thee—the least injurious of Turkmans.
Thou hast done righteously in all and sought
To lead Túrán aright. The leopard knoweth
That war and strife are evils, rocks and mountains
Know that, but when the king of kings is bent
On vengeance we must pour the arrows in.
On two conditions there may be peace yet;
Consider if ye will consent to them:
One is—that thou shalt send to Kai Khusrau
In bonds all those that through the prince's death
Insensately have set this scene of strife,
Although not authors of the war, and those,
The guilty of the blood of that just head,
Although they may be not upon the field.
The other is—thou shalt prepare thyself,
And come with me to our victorious Sháh.
As to the goods which thou wilt leave behind,
And dost esteem so precious, thou shalt have
Ten for each one from him, so prate not thou
About the baggage of the Turkman host.”

Pírán reflected: “To desert Túrán,
And go before that king were grave indeed!
Again by thus demanding those in fault
In wreak for Siyáwush he will bring low
Afrásiyáb's great men—his kith and kin—
The man with thrones and treasure, place and power.
How could I dare to speak of such a thing?
He asketh what is quite preposterous!
Húmán, Kulbád, and Farshídward—the men
That brought about the anguish of Gúdarz—
Are all involved, and this can never be:
No river in the world can run such water.
I must adopt mine own expedient,
Take mine own way.”

He said: “O paladin!

Mayst thou be ever young and bright of mind.
I will depart and tell this to the chiefs—
Manshúr, Shangul, and to the Khán of Chín—
And send a cameleer to tell the king
Thy words, and rouse him from his slumbering.”