Now thus it came to pass: Afrásiyáb
Roamed to and fro foodless and slumberless,
His soul on thorns, his body but a curse,
Through constant terror of calamity.
He sought for some spot somewhere in the world
Where he might have repose of mind with health,
And found a cavern near Barda', a cavern
Upon a mountain-top concealed from men.
He saw no room for hawks to fly o'erhead,
No lion's trace, or boar's haunt, underneath.
'Twas far from cities and with water near:
Call it the cavern of Afrásiyáb.
The king in his despair took to the mountain
As being such an unfrequented spot,