For one year there was mourning in Sístán,
And all the folk were clad in black and blue.
Upon a day Rúdába said to Zál:—
“Lament and wail because of Rustam's death,
For surely since the sun hath lit the world
No man hath seen a darker day than this.”
“O foolish woman!” Zál replied to her,
“The pain of fasting passeth that of grief.”
Rúdába was enraged and swore an oath:—
“Henceforth my body shall not sleep or eat.
It may be that my soul will see again
The soul of Rustam midst yon company.”
She fasted for a week that she might hold
Communion with his soul. Her eye grew dim
Through abstinence, her noble body pined.
For fear of harm slaves followed her about.
Ere that week ended she had lost her wits,
And in her frenzy sorrow turned to feasting.
She went forth to the kitchen in the night,
And saw a serpent lying dead in water.
With trembling eagerness she seized its head,
And was about to eat. The attendants snatched it,
And clasping her withdrew her from that place
Of unclean hands, bare her to her apartments,
And, having set her in her wonted seat,
Brought forth a trencher and set food thereon.
She ate of all till she was satisfied,
And then they spread soft garments under her.
She slept and rested from her care and trouble,
From grief at death and sorrows of possession.

As soon as she awoke she asked for food,
And they provided her abundantly.
When sense returned to her she said to Zál:—
“That word of thine consorted well with wisdom;
Grief at a death and feast and festival
Are one to him that eateth not nor sleepeth.
Our son hath gone and we shall follow him.
Trust we the Maker's justice.”

She bestowed

Her treasures on the poor, and prayed to God:—
“O Thou who art above both name and place!
Cleanse from all fault the soul of matchless Rustam,
Assign him Paradise for his abode,
And joyance of the fruits that here he sowed.”