Thus now he knelt before the ruins, cold of sweat and heat of flame,
to vow the severed heads of those who brought the village to its shame
Those who plundered, pillaged, pilfered lives would not accept the blame
He would find them all with a mighty vengeance paid for in their pain
Shah-jan, the king of kings, wore seven rings and sixty feathers plucked from sparrow's wings
Growing fat on the throne where he sat like a stone as a man who has known no hunger or shown no mercy
in promises broke like a bone. Dispersed about his people, rostam calls out for his equals in thirst to rise and cast curse,
exact the worst revenge on enemies to hang from trees
The royalty must die like common beggars and petty thieves
Those who rise against us will be murdered where they stand
Let our arrows rain from the sky to drain the blood into the land
If a mortal stands before us, strike him down with sleight of hand. And is heaven rides against us,
god himself must be damned