e lyrics are in Middle-Persian, the chronological variety of the Persian language spoken in the Sasanian Era, and they are taken from a rhymed ballad dating to the time following the fall of the Sasanian Empire at the hands of the Arabic Rashidun Caliphate. According to J. C. Tavadia from “The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland” in 1955, while the exact date of the poem cannot be pinpointed, some estimates can be made.
The greatest peculiarity of the poem is that it rhymes–as a general rule of thumb, Iranian and Greco-Roman poems of the Ancient World did not rhyme, and the concept was popularised by the Arabs following their expansion in the Early Middle-Ages. This would point to a late date for the poem,
but Tavadia indicates that the use of certain, more archaic Middle-Persian words supports the idea that this poem would have been written at an earlier date, therefore it is possible that this text was produced in the very decades following the conquest of Iran by the Arabs and it took some form of rhyming very early on.
The text expresses the hope of the era’s Iranians, who await the coming of a Zoroastrian messianic figure called Shah Vahram Varzavand, a figure who will come from India, overthrow the Arab invaders and restore native Iranian and Zoroastrian rule to the land. The poem can essentially be contextualised as a “wish-image” of the oppressed Zoroastrian Iranians yearning for the return of the previous state of rule. The figure of Shah Vahram as a messianic figure carries with him the weight of Iranian mythology, as he is said to be of the lineage of the Kayanian–the mythological dynasty of Iran who was said to have ruled at the beginning of the world, and the dynasty around which the Shahnameh epic revolves. The poem can therefore be described as both a deeply nationalistic and religious one; the two concepts being intertwined in this historical context, with Zoroastrianism being one with the concept of Iranian identity in the eyes of the text’s writer(s).
No-Passion1127 on
The lyrics :
“When will a courier come from India? (to say) that: “King Vahrām of the family of the Kavi has come, Having a thousand elephants, being upon them an elephant-keeper, Having raised banners, in the manner of the Husrô (Iranian kings) The advance-guards are led by the generals!
A man should be dispatched, a clever interpreter, Who may go and tell to India, Alas at What we have seen from the hands of the Arabs. All at once they weakened the religion and killed the kings.
We (have become) inferior, they are like kings. They have taken away the sovereignty from the Husrôgan, Not by virtue and valour, (like the nobles,) But in mockery and scorn, (like the demons.)
By force they have taken away from men They have demanded again the tribute, a heavy impost.
From us shall come that king Vahrâm, Possessing marvellous power, of the family of the Kavi. We will bring vengeance in the Arabs, As Rostam brought a hundred to the Syavashan.
Behold how much evil that demon has cast upon the world, There is no more evil than they in the world,
We will destroy the mosques, establish fires, We will raze the idol temples and blot them from the world,
Til’ evil gets destroyed, the daevic creature from the world, Finished with salutations and happiness.”
Original middle Persian lyrics :
Kay bavâd kû pêg-ê âyed az Hindûgân? Kû : “mad hân i Shâh varhrân az dûd ag î kayân!” Kê shpîl ast hazâr, abar sar-ô-sar ast pîlbân, Ke abrâstag drafs dâred ped êvên î husrôgân pêsh-lashkar barend ped spâh-sâlârân!
Mard-ê visê abâyed kirdan zîrag targumân, Ke shaved bê gôbed ped Hindûgân Kû amâh cê dîd az dast î tâzîgân, Amâh azêr, avêshân côn shâhân, Bê stad hend pâdixshâyîh î az husrôgân, Nê ped hunar ud mardîh, côn êrân, Bê ped afsôs ud riyahrîh, côn dêvân!
Bê stad hend ped stahm az mardômân, Abâz harâg âst hend, sâg î grân, Az amâh bê âyed hân Shâh Varhrâm, I Varzâvand az dûdag î Kayân , Bê âvarem kên î tâzîgân, Côn rôstahm âvurd sad kên î Syâvashân!
Be niger ka čand wad abgand ān druz pad ēn gēhān ka nēst wattar az ōy andar gēhān.
Mazgitīhā frōd hilēm, be nišānēm ātaxšān uzdēszārīhā be kanēm ud pāk kunēm az gēhān, tā wany šawēnd druz-wišūdagān az ēn gēhān.
Frazaft pad drōd šādīh
No-Passion1127 on
⚠️Side note :
There is another thing similar to this however it’s written by ferdowsi from the perspective of Rostam farrukhzad. The Eran spahbud ( general) who died at the battle of Qadissyah.
It’s the sad ending chapter of the Famous “ Book of kings”. The end of an Era.
A letter to his brother. being a doomer and in his view predicting what would happen when the arabs conquer Iran ⚠️ racism warning. You have been warned. :
“But when the pulpit’s equal to the throne And Abu Bakr’s and Omar’s names are known, Our long travails will be as naught, and all The glory we have known will fade and fall The stars are with the Arabs, and you’ll see No crown or throne, no royal sovereignty: Long days will pass, until a worthless fool Will lead his followers and presume to rule:
They’ll dress in black, their headdress will be made Of twisted lengths of silk or black brocade. There’ll be no golden boots or banners then, Our crowns and thrones will not be seen again. Some will rejoice, while others live in fear, Justice and charity will disappear, At night, the time to hide away and sleep, Men’s epes will glitter to make others weep;
Strangers will rule us then, and with their might They’ll plunder us and turn our days to night. Thep will not care for just or righteous men, Deceit and fraudulence will flourish then.
Warriors will go on foot, while puffed-up pride And empt boasts will arm themselves and ride; The peasantry will suffer from neglect, Lineage and skill will garner no respect, Men will be mutual thieves and have no shame, Curses and blessings will be thought the same.
What’s hidden will be worse than what is known, And stony-hearted kings will seize the throne. No man will trust his son, and equally No son will trust his father’s honestp-A misbegotten slave will rule the earth, Greatness and lineage will have no worth, No one will keep his word, and men will find The tongue as filled with evil as the mind.
Then Persians, Turks, and Arabs, side by side Will live together, mingled far and wide— The three will blur, as if they were the same; Their languages will be a trivial game.
Men will conceal their wealth, but when they’ve died, Their foes will pilfer everything they hide. Men will pretend they’re holy, or thep’re wise, To make a livelihood by telling lies. Sorrow and anguish, bitterness and pain Will be as happiness was in the reign Of Bahram Gur-mankind’s accustomed fate:
There’ll be no feasts, no festivals of state, No pleasures, no musicians, none of these: But there’ll be lies, and traps, and treacheries. Sour milk will be our food, coarse cloth our dress, And greed for money will breed bitterness Between the generations: men will cheat Each other while they calmly counterfeit Religious faith.
The winter and the spring Will pass mankind unmarked, no one will bring The wine to celebrate such moments then; Instead they’ll spill the blood of fellow men. These thoughts have dried my mouth, my cheeks turn pale, I feel my sickened heart within me fail, For since I was a soldier I’ve not known Such dark days to beset the royal throne;
The heavens have betrayed us, and they spurn Our supplications as they cruelly turn. My tempered sword, that fought with elephants And lions, will now I know be no defense Against these naked Arabs, and all I see Has only multiplied my misery. Would that I had no knowledge, did not know The good and evil that the heavens show. The noble warriors who are with me here Despise the Arabs, and they show no fear, They think they’ll turn the plain into a flood, An Oxus flowing with these Arabs’ blood;
None of them knows the heavens’ will, or how Immense a task awaits our armies now. When fate withdraws its favor, why wage war? What is the point of fighting any more? “My brother, may God keep you safe; may you comfort the royal heart by all you do.
My grave is Qadesiya’s battlefield, My crown will be my blood, my shroud my shield.”
sdjnd on
Based poem. However no one came from India and even the indians were enslaved 🙁
No-Passion1127 on
Second side note : However what happened in reality was actually the exact opposite of this poem’s wishes.
Instead of an Iranian coming from India to stop the spread of Islam…..
An Iranian went to India to spread Islam. ( Mohamad Ghori the “Champain of Islam” )
5 Comments
Inspired by this :
https://youtu.be/aJvVKzbMBk4?si=4lZZjk9_ka5LaKju
e lyrics are in Middle-Persian, the chronological variety of the Persian language spoken in the Sasanian Era, and they are taken from a rhymed ballad dating to the time following the fall of the Sasanian Empire at the hands of the Arabic Rashidun Caliphate. According to J. C. Tavadia from “The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland” in 1955, while the exact date of the poem cannot be pinpointed, some estimates can be made.
The greatest peculiarity of the poem is that it rhymes–as a general rule of thumb, Iranian and Greco-Roman poems of the Ancient World did not rhyme, and the concept was popularised by the Arabs following their expansion in the Early Middle-Ages. This would point to a late date for the poem,
but Tavadia indicates that the use of certain, more archaic Middle-Persian words supports the idea that this poem would have been written at an earlier date, therefore it is possible that this text was produced in the very decades following the conquest of Iran by the Arabs and it took some form of rhyming very early on.
The text expresses the hope of the era’s Iranians, who await the coming of a Zoroastrian messianic figure called Shah Vahram Varzavand, a figure who will come from India, overthrow the Arab invaders and restore native Iranian and Zoroastrian rule to the land. The poem can essentially be contextualised as a “wish-image” of the oppressed Zoroastrian Iranians yearning for the return of the previous state of rule. The figure of Shah Vahram as a messianic figure carries with him the weight of Iranian mythology, as he is said to be of the lineage of the Kayanian–the mythological dynasty of Iran who was said to have ruled at the beginning of the world, and the dynasty around which the Shahnameh epic revolves. The poem can therefore be described as both a deeply nationalistic and religious one; the two concepts being intertwined in this historical context, with Zoroastrianism being one with the concept of Iranian identity in the eyes of the text’s writer(s).
The lyrics :
“When will a courier come from India? (to say) that: “King Vahrām of the family of the Kavi has come, Having a thousand elephants, being upon them an elephant-keeper, Having raised banners, in the manner of the Husrô (Iranian kings) The advance-guards are led by the generals!
A man should be dispatched, a clever interpreter, Who may go and tell to India, Alas at What we have seen from the hands of the Arabs. All at once they weakened the religion and killed the kings.
We (have become) inferior, they are like kings. They have taken away the sovereignty from the Husrôgan, Not by virtue and valour, (like the nobles,) But in mockery and scorn, (like the demons.)
By force they have taken away from men They have demanded again the tribute, a heavy impost.
From us shall come that king Vahrâm, Possessing marvellous power, of the family of the Kavi. We will bring vengeance in the Arabs, As Rostam brought a hundred to the Syavashan.
Behold how much evil that demon has cast upon the world, There is no more evil than they in the world,
We will destroy the mosques, establish fires, We will raze the idol temples and blot them from the world,
Til’ evil gets destroyed, the daevic creature from the world, Finished with salutations and happiness.”
Original middle Persian lyrics :
Kay bavâd kû pêg-ê âyed az Hindûgân? Kû : “mad hân i Shâh varhrân az dûd ag î kayân!” Kê shpîl ast hazâr, abar sar-ô-sar ast pîlbân, Ke abrâstag drafs dâred ped êvên î husrôgân pêsh-lashkar barend ped spâh-sâlârân!
Mard-ê visê abâyed kirdan zîrag targumân, Ke shaved bê gôbed ped Hindûgân Kû amâh cê dîd az dast î tâzîgân, Amâh azêr, avêshân côn shâhân, Bê stad hend pâdixshâyîh î az husrôgân, Nê ped hunar ud mardîh, côn êrân, Bê ped afsôs ud riyahrîh, côn dêvân!
Bê stad hend ped stahm az mardômân, Abâz harâg âst hend, sâg î grân, Az amâh bê âyed hân Shâh Varhrâm, I Varzâvand az dûdag î Kayân , Bê âvarem kên î tâzîgân, Côn rôstahm âvurd sad kên î Syâvashân!
Be niger ka čand wad abgand ān druz pad ēn gēhān ka nēst wattar az ōy andar gēhān.
Mazgitīhā frōd hilēm, be nišānēm ātaxšān uzdēszārīhā be kanēm ud pāk kunēm az gēhān, tā wany šawēnd druz-wišūdagān az ēn gēhān.
Frazaft pad drōd šādīh
⚠️Side note :
There is another thing similar to this however it’s written by ferdowsi from the perspective of Rostam farrukhzad. The Eran spahbud ( general) who died at the battle of Qadissyah.
It’s the sad ending chapter of the Famous “ Book of kings”. The end of an Era.
A letter to his brother. being a doomer and in his view predicting what would happen when the arabs conquer Iran ⚠️ racism warning. You have been warned. :
“But when the pulpit’s equal to the throne And Abu Bakr’s and Omar’s names are known, Our long travails will be as naught, and all The glory we have known will fade and fall The stars are with the Arabs, and you’ll see No crown or throne, no royal sovereignty: Long days will pass, until a worthless fool Will lead his followers and presume to rule:
They’ll dress in black, their headdress will be made Of twisted lengths of silk or black brocade. There’ll be no golden boots or banners then, Our crowns and thrones will not be seen again. Some will rejoice, while others live in fear, Justice and charity will disappear, At night, the time to hide away and sleep, Men’s epes will glitter to make others weep;
Strangers will rule us then, and with their might They’ll plunder us and turn our days to night. Thep will not care for just or righteous men, Deceit and fraudulence will flourish then.
Warriors will go on foot, while puffed-up pride And empt boasts will arm themselves and ride; The peasantry will suffer from neglect, Lineage and skill will garner no respect, Men will be mutual thieves and have no shame, Curses and blessings will be thought the same.
What’s hidden will be worse than what is known, And stony-hearted kings will seize the throne. No man will trust his son, and equally No son will trust his father’s honestp-A misbegotten slave will rule the earth, Greatness and lineage will have no worth, No one will keep his word, and men will find The tongue as filled with evil as the mind.
Then Persians, Turks, and Arabs, side by side Will live together, mingled far and wide— The three will blur, as if they were the same; Their languages will be a trivial game.
Men will conceal their wealth, but when they’ve died, Their foes will pilfer everything they hide. Men will pretend they’re holy, or thep’re wise, To make a livelihood by telling lies. Sorrow and anguish, bitterness and pain Will be as happiness was in the reign Of Bahram Gur-mankind’s accustomed fate:
There’ll be no feasts, no festivals of state, No pleasures, no musicians, none of these: But there’ll be lies, and traps, and treacheries. Sour milk will be our food, coarse cloth our dress, And greed for money will breed bitterness Between the generations: men will cheat Each other while they calmly counterfeit Religious faith.
The winter and the spring Will pass mankind unmarked, no one will bring The wine to celebrate such moments then; Instead they’ll spill the blood of fellow men. These thoughts have dried my mouth, my cheeks turn pale, I feel my sickened heart within me fail, For since I was a soldier I’ve not known Such dark days to beset the royal throne;
The heavens have betrayed us, and they spurn Our supplications as they cruelly turn. My tempered sword, that fought with elephants And lions, will now I know be no defense Against these naked Arabs, and all I see Has only multiplied my misery. Would that I had no knowledge, did not know The good and evil that the heavens show. The noble warriors who are with me here Despise the Arabs, and they show no fear, They think they’ll turn the plain into a flood, An Oxus flowing with these Arabs’ blood;
None of them knows the heavens’ will, or how Immense a task awaits our armies now. When fate withdraws its favor, why wage war? What is the point of fighting any more? “My brother, may God keep you safe; may you comfort the royal heart by all you do.
My grave is Qadesiya’s battlefield, My crown will be my blood, my shroud my shield.”
Based poem. However no one came from India and even the indians were enslaved 🙁
Second side note : However what happened in reality was actually the exact opposite of this poem’s wishes.
Instead of an Iranian coming from India to stop the spread of Islam…..
An Iranian went to India to spread Islam. ( Mohamad Ghori the “Champain of Islam” )
Bruh