بخش 3

I will tell a story from the ancients, as related by a farmer and remembered by a priest. One morning, Rustam, feeling heavy-hearted, prepared for a hunt. He strapped on his belt and filled his quiver with arrows. He set out towards the border of Turan, like a fierce lion seeking prey. When he reached the border, he saw a desert full of wild asses (onagers). His face lit up like a flower, and he spurred Rakhsh forward. With arrow, bow, mace, and lasso, he hunted several onagers. He then gathered brushwood, thorns, and tree branches and lit a large fire. Once the fire was burning, the Elephant-Bodied Hero found a tree trunk suitable for a spit. He skewered a whole male onager on it, which seemed as light as a feather in his grasp. When it was roasted, he tore it apart and ate it, even cracking the bones for marrow. Then he slept and rested from the world's cares, while Rakhsh grazed freely in the meadow. Seven or eight Turkman horsemen passed by that hunting ground. They saw a horse in the meadow and searched around the stream bank. When they found Rakhsh on the plain, they rushed to capture him. They caught him and led him away to the city, each claiming a share of the prize. When Rustam woke from his sweet sleep, he looked for his trained steed. He searched the meadow in every direction but could not see his horse. He became distressed and rushed frantically towards Samangan. He said to himself, "How can I go on foot now, with my soul darkened by shame? What will the warriors say? That his horse was stolen while the Hero slept and died? Now I must go in helplessness, surrendering my heart to grief. I must gird my weapons and belt and go, hoping to find a trace of him somewhere." He walked on, full of sorrow and pain, his body in trouble and his heart in torment.