Khosrow and Shirin

from the Khamseh of Nizami

Retold and abridged in prose by

Peter J. Chelkowski

This is a love story, which has captured the minds of poets and artists in Iran and many other parts of Asia for
over 1,400 years. Recited, sung, depicted in many genres of the arts, or just retold for its wonderful plot,
Khosrow and Shirin is based on the true story of shah Khosow/Khosrov/Khusrau II [Chosroes, ruled 590-628]
and his successful pursuit of the woman of his dreams. The lady Shirin, in the version of Nizami (about 1141–
1209), is an Armenian princess who becomes queen of Iran after many episodes of folkloric interest. The present
English text appears in Mirror of the Invisible World: Tales from the Khamseh of Nizami (New York, 1975), pp.
21-48. That magnificent publication, with dozens of color plates of Persian miniatures, is available in full at
Internet Archive here.

Khosrow and Shirin

Story

Commentary

Additional Resources

Wikipedia:

Khosrow and Shirin

Nizami

Persian Miniatures, Google search of Wikipedia

Encyclopaedia Iranica:

Ḵosrow o Širin, by Paola Orsatti

Nez ̣āmi of Ganja, Google search of Iranica

Internet Archive:

Epic Literature, selection of related material of interest to folklorists

Nizami Ganjvi

Google:

General Web Search

Khosrow and Shirin

Images

Khosrow and Shirin, in Persian miniature art

Persian miniature art

YouTube Videos

Persian miniatures

Compiled by Robert Bedrosian, 2021

This material is presented solely for non-commercial educational/research purposes.

 M IR R O R
OF TH E
IN V ISIB LE
W ORLD
Tales from the Khamseh of Nizami

P E T E R J. C H E L K O W S K I
Department of Near Eastern Languages and Literatures New York University
•

W IT H A N ESSAY BY P R I S C I L L A P. S O U C E K
Department of the History ofArt ■ University of Michigan

forew ord BY R IC H A R D E T T IN G H A U S E N
Department of Islamic Art ■ The Metropolitan Museum of Art

THE M ETROPOLITAN M U S E U M OF ART • N E W Y ORK

This material is presented solely for non-commercial educational/research purposes.

 o n the cover : a decorative leather inside cover from the original binding o f the manuscript

frontispiece : detail o f Miniature n , Bahram Gur in the Sandalwood Pavilion

Publication o f this book has been made possible in part by contributions provided by His Excellency Youssef
Khoshkish, President o f the Melli Bank, Teheran, Iran, through the generous agency o f Mr. Ralph E. Becker,
President o f the Iran-American Society o f the United States, who also contributed to the publication.

The texts o f “Khosrow and Shirin,” “Layla and M ajnun,” and “The Seven Princesses” are adapted, in part,
front the Tales o f the Khamsa as retold by Vernon N ewton from the transcriptions o f Peter Chelkowski.
By permission o f Vernon Newton.

Book designed by Peter Oldenburg

Photography by W illiam F. Pons
Engraved and printed by Conzett + Huber AG, Zurich, Switzerland
Published 1975
All rights reserved by The Metropolitan Museum o f Art, N ew York
Printed in Switzerland

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING IN P U B L I C A T IO N DATA

Chelkowski, Peter J.
M irror o f the invisible world.
“Published on the occasion ofthe opening o f the new Islamic Galleries at the Metropolitan Museum o f A rt.”
contents : Khosrow and Shirin.—Layla and Majnun.—The Seven Princesses.
1. Nizami Ganjavi, 1140 or 41-1202 or 3—Manuscripts—Addresses, essays, lectures. I. Nizami Ganjavi,
1140 or 41-1202 or 3. Khamseh. II. N ew York (City). M etropolitan Museum o f Art. ni. Title.
PZ 4.C 5i6M i [PS3553.H3488] 813’.5’4 75-28305 ISBN 0-87099-142-6
 CONTENTS

FO R E W O R D vii

PR EFA C E A N D A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S ix

IN T R O D U C T IO N I

THE K H A M S E H O F 1524/25 II

Khosrow and Shirin 21

Layla and Majnun 49

The Seven Princesses 69

O T H E R IM P O R T A N T K N O W N
M A N U S C R IP T S O F TH E K H AM SEH Il6
Khosrow and Shirin

i n the land of Persia, long ago, lived King Hormuzd the Great.
Called “the light of the world’sjustice,” he was the son of the illustrious Khosrow
Anushirvan, who had been a king of great renown in his own time. For many
years King Hormuzd awaited an heir, a son to assure the continuation of his
line. Night and day he prayed to God, and when at last a son was born, his
gratitude was boundless. And as his son grew, so grew the king’s thankfulness,
for the child was a bounding boy of winning eloquence.
Named Khosrow for his grandfather, the boy was called Parviz, “the Victorious
One”—such was the king’s delight in him. The crown prince excelled in all he
did. No star in the northern sky shone with greater brilliance than this magnitude-
to-be. By the age of nine he was schooled in all the learned disciplines; in five
years more he was an expert horseman and accomplished hunter. A wizard with
the sword, the spear, and the arrow, Khosrow soon mastered the art of war. His
skill would one day make his beloved Persia the glittering mistress of the East.
Now in the court of Hormuzd was a sage, Bozorg Omid by name, who took
it upon himself to counsel both father and son. As he admitted Khosrow to the
mysteries of the stars and the even more subtle ways of man and beast, he en­
treated Hormuzd to be a just and worthy ruler. “What use, Magnificence, to
guard your own good with zeal while the state of your subjects goes untended?
Who will grant a throne respect when those who uphold it have nothing? The
rights of the ruled must always rule: let this byword never leave your thoughts.”
Hormuzd, wise son of a wise father, accepted this advice and proclaimed new
laws to a fanfare of trumpets. Hormuzd promised to protect his people against
theft and destruction of property and to guard the privacy of their homes. Stem
edicts, respecting no one person more than another, assured redress for all. And
of all the youths in Persia, none admired the uprightness of the king more than
his own son.
One morning, he who was the court’s darling rode forth to the hunt. Little
did Khosrow know, as the sun rose and climbed to the top of its blue dome, that
his father’s clarion commands would ring so close to his own ears.
It was a glorious day. The sun was bright; the air was clear; and best of all,
the game was plentiful. Then, as the sun began its descent, Khosrow and his

21
companions came upon a pleasant settlement on the green plain. The young
prince commandeered a peasant’s house for food and lodging, and soon the
revelry began. Inspired by his minstrel’s tunes and the abundant wine, Khosrow
and his companions rocked the house with cheers and drank throughout the
night. Lost in wine and laughter, Khosrow was unaware that one of his servants
had reeled into the vineyard to pick grapes and so frightened the prince’s horse
that the steed reared, broke loose, and trampled the peasant’s newly sprouted
crops.
Daybreak saw the bleary-eyed huntsmen home. With the rising of the golden
sun, the outraged peasant’s complaint reached the court. Khosrow was brought
before the king at once. “No sooner do my decrees go forth than they are
trampled by your horse’s hooves! Since when, my high-born son, are you to
take pleasure at my people’s cost?”
The penalties were harsh. The man who had picked the grapes was given to
the owner of the vineyard as a slave; the hooves of Khosrow’s horse were ruth­
lessly cut; and Khosrow’s princely throne was given to the peasant. Then the min­
strel’s fingernails were clipped and his harp was unstrung.
Ashamed that his companions should be punished for his sake and pained by
his father’s wrath, Khosrow begged the elders of the court to plead for his
pardon. The counselors, who dearly loved the prince, went to Hormuzd with an
apology. So strong was his regret that Khosrow dressed himself in a shroud, took
a sharp sword, wept bitterly and writhed on the ground. “Here is my sword,
and my submissive head. I can bear any sorrow of this life but the anger of the
king.” When Hormuzd heard of this speech, he kissed Khosrow and forgave him
and made him once again crown prince.
That night, in a dream, Khosrow was visited by his grandfather, Khosrow
Anushirvan. “Listen to me,” said the old man, “I foresee your happy future
because of your willingness to accept chastisement. In place of what you have
lost, you will receive four things of even greater worth: you shall ride Shabdiz,
the world’s swiftest and most fabled steed, who will shake his mane to your glory
across a mighty empire bordered by the seas; you shall sit on Taqdis, the throne
of thrones, which makes your throne surrendered but a bench; at your bidding
Barbad the musician shall play and with the lightest touch will far surpass the
broken notes of your lost minstrel. But beyond all these, you shall have Shirin,
your destined love, whose sweetness and beauty will sustain you all your days.”
With this last promise, Khosrow Anushirvan vanished, and the prince awoke.
Now Khosrow’s dearest friend and second self was the youth Shapur, a painter
of great skill and self-confidence. “When I draw a person’s head, it moves; the
bird whose wing I draw will fly,” he was wont to boast. It was said of Shapur

22
that his art was so magical that he could draw pictures on water. At portraiture
Shapur excelled; he could capture not only the likeness but the subject’s very
soul.
A born adventurer, Shapur had traveled far and wide. One day, while recount­
ing to Khosrow the many marvels he had seen, Shapur told of a journey to
Armenia. He praised the beauty of the mountains, the splendor of the court, and
the Armenian queen Mihin Banu. A woman of great wealth and property,
Mihin Banu had no husband, yet passed her life content and was stronger than
any man. But above all he praised the queen’s niece, Shirin. “Her face is a wild
rose, and her lips are as sweet as her name. Her charming words please everyone,
and she has been chosen as the heir of Queen Mihin Banu. Never have I seen
a maiden as enchanting as Shirin! And never have I seen anything like the queen’s
black horse Shabdiz!”
“Shirin! Did you say Shirin? How astonishing! How fortunate!” Then.
Khosrow told his friend about the dream and sent Shapur at once to bring Shirin
to him. “If she be like wax, impress her with our seal. If her heart be iron, return
at once and tell me so that I shall not strike cold iron!”
Thus was Shapur instructed; he promised not to fail. “Fear not, my prince! As
long as my brushes and paints attend me, failure has no chance!” And so he
departed.
When he reached Armenia it was spring; the mountains were covered with
flowers, and the woods and fields were green. While riding, Shapur came upon
an aged priest, who lived in a small, ancient monastery carved out of rock high
up on a cliff. The old man told a curious tale. “At the foot of this very mountain
is a cave, and in the cave is a black stone that every horseman in the world would
covet—if he only knew of it. From nearby and faraway plains the swift mares
come to this great stone and, when in heat, rub themselves against it. Every foal
bom to these mares is wonderfully swift; but the swiftest of all is Shabdiz, that
horse of lightning hooves, the stallion of our queen.”
“I know of him,” Shapur replied, and told the priest that he had traveled to
Armenia to visit the court. Then the old man pointed to a pretty meadow where
the royal party was accustomed to spreading their picnic cloth.
The next morning, at dawn, Shapur went to the pretty meadow. He took a
piece of paper in his hand and sketched a portrait of the prince, a likeness so
exact as to make the most reluctant maiden swoon. Then he hung the picture
from a branch of a tree and hid himself. He did not have to wait long, for soon
Shirin appeared with her attendants.
The day shimmered with promise; every leaf danced in the breeze. Shirin and
her companions spread their carpets on the grass, and, sipping wine, amused

23
 themselves with singing, dancing to the music of lutes, and fashioning wreathes
of flowers for each other. Then, at last, Shirin noticed the portrait. She asked
that it be brought to her. She held it in her hands and gazed at the handsome
prince. Then her heart dissolved withjoy and she embraced the portrait. Frightened
at her trembhng, and supposing that the picture was the work of evil spirits, her
handmaidens destroyed the image and burned rue to stop the spell. Only then
did Shirin recover her senses, and the party moved on.
The following morning, Shapur again went to the meadow, made a portrait
of the prince, hung it from a branch, and hid. When Shirin appeared and saw
the portrait, her soul again took flight. But this time her maids refused to bring
the picture to her. They rolled up their carpets and the party fled.
On the third morning, Shirin and her companions set out for a different
meadow. Following them, Shapur made yet another portrait, hung it as before,
and hid himself. Soon Shirin caught sight of it. She seized it from the branch
herself and worshipped it as if it were an idol. In its homage she drank wine;
with every sip she kissed the ground. At last, she sent her maids to search for
someone who might be able to explain the mystery; but not a soul could be
found. Then, at the far end of the meadow, Shirin noticed a stranger. Believing
that this person had some knowledge of the portrait, she instructed her attendants
to ask if he knew the name and rank of the one who had captured her heart.
When Shapur—for the stranger was none other than the painter—saw the
maidens approach, he knew that his stratagem had not failed. To their inquiries,
he answered that the secret could be imparted only to Shirin herself. When the
maidens gave this message to their mistress, Shirin ran eagerly across the field.
As she drew near, Shapur was overwhelmed, so delicate was her beauty.
“Who might you be? Where are you from? What do you know?” she breath­
lessly asked. Shapur replied that he had traveled far and wide, that he could
unlock many mysteries and would divulge the story of the portrait, but only if
they were left entirely alone. Shirin dismissed her maidens. The painter then told
her that the one she loved was a fine prince, Khosrow Parviz by name. She then
confessed that her happiness was so entwined with the portrait that she wor­
shipped it night and day. Whereupon Shapur told how the prince had dreamed
about Shirin, his destined love, and had sent him to Armenia to find her. As
Shapur spoke, Shirin was overcome withjoy.
Then the painter, ever ingenious, devised a plan. The next morning, at dawn,
Shirin was to ride to the hunt on Shabdiz and flee from her companions—so
swift was the steed that she would not be caught—and she was to journey toward
Persia. Then Shapur gave Shirin a seal ring belonging to Khosrow and told her
to show it to anyone she met along the way. Perhaps the stranger she met would

24
be Khosrow himself. Shirin would recognize him, for he would be garbed in
red from head to foot; his horse’s hooves would be shod with gold. Should
Shirin not encounter Khosrow, she must go to the royal palace Moshku, in the
capital city of Mada’in, and show the seal ring to the servants there.
Then, with great pride and pleasure in the powers of his palette, Shapur
departed; the princess summoned her attendants and returned to the palace of
Queen Mihin Banu. That night she pleaded with the queen to be allowed to
ride on Shabdiz the next day. As the stallion was exceedingly strong-spirited,
the queen was reluctant to agree, but agree she did.
At dawn, Shirin and her attendants made ready for the hunt. Dressed in a
manly manner, as was the custom in Armenia for hunting on the plains, the party
rode forth at a gallop. Soon Shabdiz had left the other horses far behind. Shirin’s
companions tried to follow, but in vain, and after spending the day in fruitless
search they rode back to the palace with their doleful news. Throughout the
night the good queen wept and mourned, but then she had a dream: her beloved
falcon flew away, and as she grieved it returned. She took this as a happy omen,
and so the next morning, to the amazement of her court, no search was called.
Meanwhile, Shirin rode toward Persia in search of her beloved prince. For
fourteen days and fourteen nights she traveled. Then she came upon an emerald
field in which there gleamed a gentle pool. Weary and covered with dust from
head to foot, she stopped. When she had satisfied herself that she was quite alone,
she tethered Shabdiz and prepared to bathe. Beautiful was the whiteness of her
skin against the blueness of the water. She loosed her braids and washed her long
black hair, and the moon-like reflection of her face was caught in the shallows
of the pool. And then she sat in the cool, refreshing water, dreaming of Khosrow.
She did not know that from the very day Khosrow had sent Shapur to Armenia,
fate had sent ill fortune to the prince. For Khosrow had enemies in Persia; men
who had envied him from the hour of his birth. Now they began to strike coins
in his name and to circulate them in the cities of the realm. Hormuzd, thinking
his son was plotting to seize the throne, ordered the prince cast into prison.
When the good sage Bozorg Omid heard of the decree, he urged Khosrow to
flee.
Khosrow rode directly to the palace and told his servants that he would be
hunting for a fortnight. If, meanwhile, a beauty appeared, riding a black stallipn
like a peacock on a raven’s back, she was to be welcomed as an honored guest
and given every courtesy. Indeed, if the palace was not to her liking, another
was to be built for her in any place she might prefer. “See to this as you would
to your own safety!” Khosrow ordered and then, disguising himself in robes
other than his customary red, he departed for Armenia. So swiftly did he ride

25
that he covered two days’ distance in one. Then, stopping, he ordered his
attendants to feed their horses while he rode on alone. Suddenly, he came upon
the pool in the emerald field and saw Shirin sitting in the water like a lily. At
the sight of her his heart caught fire and burned; he trembled with desire in
every limb. Softly he rode toward her and whispered to himself how he would
like to have such a beautiful maiden and such a black horse as hers, little knowing
that one day they would both be his.
Suddenly Shirin looked up. Startled, she gathered her black hair about her
like a cloak, emerged from the pool, dressed, and mounted her horse. At the
touch of her heel Shabdiz carried her off into the shadows of the late afternoon.
Watching her, Khosrow was as much astonished by the swiftness of her flight
as by her beauty. When she had disappeared he wept, then continued his journey
toward Armenia.
As she rode, Shirin dwelled on the stranger from whom she had fled. She won­
dered if he might have been Khosrow even though he was not garbed in red, as
Shapur had advised.
Riding on, Shirin finally reached the palace Moshku. She presented the prince’s
ring and was welcomed with great ceremony; Shabdiz was taken to the stable.
When she was asked to tell her story, she refused; she would wait until Khosrow’s
return. Weeks went by like flights of swallows with not a word from Khosrow.
Shirin became uneasy; the palace did not please her, as no window offered happy
views. She longed for the green mountains of Armenia; at last she became so
restive that the maidservants told her of Khosrow’s command that a new residence
be built for her should she desire. Shirin eagerly requested that a new palace be
built on a mountain plain. The servants, envying her beauty and her privilege,
arranged, instead, for the palace to be built in an unhealthy place; a place so
hot, the saying went, that it could make a child into an old man in less than a week.
It was a place not far from Kermanshah, but far, indeed, from the world. To
this prison-palace did Shirin repair, where grief was her constant companion.
By this time, Khosrow had reached the borders of Armenia. When Queen
Mihin Banu heard of his arrival, she went with all her retinue to welcome him.
A chair was placed for him at the foot of her throne, and she commanded that
great festivities be held in his honor. Musicians played, girls danced, and in every
tent a fire burned and lavish feasts were set. Game, fruits, and wine were as
abundant as the pasturelands and orchards of Armenia. But for Khosrow the
wine was bitter; even as he dallied with the pretty maidens, he drank only his
desire for Shirin.
One night in the midst of these amusements, Shapur appeared at Khosrow’s tent.
He kissed the ground before the prince and told of what had passed: how he had

27
miniature 1 Khosrow discovers Shirin bathing in a wilderness pool
found Shirin and had worked magic with his paints and how Shirin had ridden
off on Shabdiz—surely she was at the palace Moshku even now—and he greatly
praised her beauty and strong-mindedness. So overjoyed was Khosrow when he
heard these words that he covered his friend with jewels and gave him a precious
robe. Then he ordered Shapur to go to Shirin as quickly as a moth flies toward a
light.
Soon afterward Queen Mihin Banu happened to come to Khosrow’s tent, and
the prince told her of the messenger who had brought news of Shirin; the faithful
Shapur would be sent to bring her back from Persia. As he made ready to depart,
the queen ordered her second-swiftest steed, Golgun—sired, like Shabdiz, in the
mountain cave—given to Shapur to take with him in case Shirin no longer had
Shabdiz. Within the hour, Shapur set out, mounted on his own horse and leading
the splendid Golgun.
At last he arrived in Persia and found the disconsolate princess sequestered in
her wretched palace. Upon seeing Shapur, Shirin trembled with joy, so long had
she despaired of word from Khosrow. The next morning, at the golden break of
dawn, they departed in haste for Armenia; Shirin rode Golgun, for Shabdiz had
remained in the stable at the palace Moshku. When they reached the court of
Queen Mihin Banu there was rejoicing beyond imagining, so happy was the
queen to see Shirin.
But while Shapur and Shirin were on their way to Armenia, word had come
to Khosrow of the death of his father King Hormuzd, and he had hurried back
to Persia to claim his rightful throne. He arrived in the capital city of Mada’in
hoping to find Shirin, but she had already departed. Her black stallion Shabdiz
was still in the stable, and so to console himself in her absence, Khosrow rode
Shabdiz to the hunt, for the young king greatly enjoyed that sport. And after the
hunt, he took his pleasure in drinking fine wine.
Khosrow ruled with justice, like his father and grandfather before him, and
his subjects were well pleased. But their contentment had not long to last, for
soon Bahram Chubin, the wily general who had commanded the armies under
Hormuzd, devised a treacherous scheme to seize the throne. He had it whispered
among the people that Khosrow had ordered his father killed, and that he was a
murderer and unfit to wear the Persian crown. He also had it whispered that
Khosrow valued a gulp of wine more than the blood of a hundred brothers, that
he would surrender his kingdom for a price, and that he was so distracted by his
love for Shirin that he could not rule. Thus did the evil Bahram Chubin spread
his subtle plague and turn the people against Khosrow, and once again Khosrow
was forced to flee his native land. Under cover of night he saddled Shabdiz and
rode toward Armenia—and Shirin. He traveled on without a rest until he neared

29
Detail from miniature i
the capital of Armenia. Here he interrupted his wearisome journey for the
diversion of a hunt.
Now it happened that Shirin also rode to the hunt that morning. And, as
was her custom, she rode far ahead of her attendants, for she was ever more
spirited than they. In a clearing she came upon a stranger, the very one who
had surprised her while she was bathing in the wilderness pool. It was, indeed,
Khosrow. A thousand times more beautiful than Khosrow had remembered, was
Shirin. Dazzling was the sun at the moment of their encounter, but even more
dazzling were their eyes. They reined in their horses and sat gazing at one another,
not daring to move lest the slightest motion break the spell. When at last they
had regained their senses, Khosrow dismounted and extended his hand; Shirin
slipped from her horse with the grace of a dancer. For a moment they spoke.
Khosrow told of his troubles, and Shirin invited him to the palace. Then her
attendants found her; she ordered them to hasten to the queen with the happy news.
When Queen Mihin Banu learned of Khosrow’s return, she was beside her­
self with joy. She prepared gifts worthy of a king and arranged for feasts and
celebrations. She went forth herself to welcome him to the palace and scattered
his path with jewels. But the most precious gift she had to offer was the princess
Shirin. Though she could see how intensely Khosrow loved Shirin and how
Shirin loved Khosrow, the good queen drew her niece aside and warned her
that although Khosrow ruled with justice, she must guard herself against deceit.
She must not satisfy all his desires lest he tire of her, for it was said that in the land
of Persia he possessed a thousand beauties. “Keep your jewel, and he will be as
addicted to you as to opium. Yield, and you will be a trampled flower before the
world. If he is the moon, you are the sun,” she counseled. And Shirin swore,
by the seven heavens, that even if she wept tears of blood for love of Khosrow,
she would not be his until she was his wife. And so the queen allowed Shirin
to sit by Khosrow’s side in the festivities, but forbade them to converse privately
or be left to themselves.
How perfect for the lovers were these ecstatic days! The air sparkled; the sky
was never so blue, the grass so thick with flowers. And never did Khosrow and
Shirin leave one another’s sight. In the mornings they would summon their
attendants; then Shabdiz and Golgun would be led from the stable and they
would ride to the polo field or to the hunt. Chasing after birds and game, Khosrow
was astonished at the prowess of Shirin; her skill with the bow and her mastery
of her horses’s reins matched that of any man. She was a lioness, not a gazelle,
and his heart pursued her eagerly. Yet at night when the dancing began, so light
was her step that she seemed never to touch the ground.
Every night there were sumptuous feasts. Scarcely was one banquet finished

3i
miniature 2 King Khosrow seated on his throne
than the next began, and each was embellished with music, song, and wine, and
poetry in praise of love. One evening, while gentle breezes wafted through the
palace and cooled the heat of day, Shirin with ten attendants gathered at the
foot of Khosrow’s throne; each maiden recited poetry praising the love of
Khosrow and Shirin. Then Shapur, who was among the company, told how he
had awakened their love with his painting, and Shirin described the passion and
amazement she had felt upon plucking the portrait from its bough. And Khosrow
told the tale of a black lion that hunted a wild ass and was himself ensnared
when the ass put a rope around his neck; thus was he, a powerful king, caught
in the locks of Shirin’s hair.
Now during these blissful days and nights Khosrow pleaded with Shirin to
follow him to a secret place, an obscure comer of the court where they could
talk of love and kiss, and not he seen. Mindful of her promise to the queen,
Shirin resisted. Then, one evening, when they were walking unaccompanied in
the palace gardens, Khosrow, flushed with wine, urged himself upon her with
an overpowering embrace. Shirin rebuked him gently. “My love, we must not
so forget ourselves in this enchanted garden that the garden of our future goes
untended. Remember that you are a king, and a king deposed. If you would enjoy
my bloom, salvage your good name, and let your state flower.” And even as she
spoke these words, Shirin was sweeter than all the roses in the arbor.
Thus was Khosrow spurred to action. Entrusting the welfare of his beloved to his
faithful friend Shapur, he set out on Shabdiz the next morning for the kingdom of
Byzantium. Without resting, he rode until he reached Constantinople, the great
port city where the emperor had his residence. He went before that potentate
and, pledging eternal friendship, asked for arms and men. Now the emperor
paid heed, for he desired lasting peace with his powerful neighbor Persia. And
when he ascertained from his astrologers that Khosrow’s fortunes were on the rise,
he agreed to give the young king a force of fifty thousand men. But the emperor
was shrewd and required as a sign of their friendship that Khosrow marry his
daughter Maryam and pledge that he would take no other wife besides.
Now Khosrow was sorely trapped. He loved Shirin beyond anything else on
earth, and to enjoy her love he must redeem his crown. But how else could he
regain his throne except by marriage to the Byzantine princess? He had his honor
to avenge. Dreadful was his dilemma, for to pursue duty was to deny his love,
and to deny duty was to deny his love as well. At last, with tortured heart,
Khosrow consented to the contract, and to the joy of all Byzantium, the king
of Persia and the princess Maryam were wed.
Immediately, the emperor mustered his army, and Niyatus was placed in
command. They marched by night toward Persia.When the battle began, Khosrow

32
Detail from miniature 2
went forth to meet Bahrain Chubin accompanied by his adviser, the sage Bozorg
Omid, who told him when to advance. The omens were auspicious, and the
wicked Bahram Chubin was defeated; he fled toward China, and his men dis­
persed. Thus Khosrow regained his kingdom and was crowned in the capital
city of Mada’in. There was great rejoicing throughout the land, but in his heart
Khosrow could not rejoice, for he longed for Shirin. Sweeter than ever did she
seem now, as sweet as the waters of life, and the days they had passed together
seemed but a dream.
As Khosrow’s fortunes changed, so did those of Shirin. Queen Mihin Banu
had fallen ill, and soon breathed her last; the crown of Armenia was placed upon
Shirin’s unhappy head. She was desolate beyond description. She mourned the
queen deeply, but even greater was her yearning for Khosrow. Shirin was filled
with a longing that would not let her sleep.
Now Shirin was a just and gracious ruler; she abolished taxes, and her people
prospered. Throughout the land perfect peace prevailed. The falcon drank to­
gether with the quail and the wolf lay with the lamb. Yet all the while her
thoughts turned to Khosrow. When Shirin learned that Khosrow had regained
his throne, she sent him many splendid gifts and asked every caravan for news of
him. And then, with unbelieving ears, she heard of his marriage to the princess
Maryam and his promise never to take another wife. Her unhappiness was so
extreme that she could think of nothing else. Fearing that she would neglect
her kingdom, she appointed a regent in her place and went with the faithful
Shapur and a few attendants to the residence that had been built for her near
Kermanshah, in Persia. Word of her arrival reached Khosrow. But the king,
fearing Maryam’s anger and her father’s might, dared not go to her. Instead he
sent for Shapur, and the good painter carried secret messages between the lovers.
Now in King Khosrow’s court grand councils were held, followed by even
grander feasts. One night, at a banquet, Khosrow drank too much wine and called
for Barbad, the famous minstrel, to entertain the company. Barbad came before
him and sang thirty songs about the love of Khosrow for Shirin and was rewarded
by the king withjeweled robes and handsome gifts. So overwhelmed was Khosrow
by the songs, and so emboldened by the wine, that he went to Maryam and told
her that Shirin had left her kingdom for his sake and was languishing at her palace
near Kermanshah. He asked Maryam to have Shirin brought to the palace Moshku
as her slave. But Maryam was a jealous woman and refused, and vowed to kill
Shirin should she ever see her. More than ever Khosrow longed to see Shirin,
and so he sent Shapur to Shirin to beg her to meet him secretly in the palace
Moshku; under cover of night, she was to slip past the gates—and Maryam’s
suspicious eye.

34
 Shirin was indignant at so crass a plan. “Am I beneath the princess Maryam
that I must crawl to Moshku in the dark?” she exclaimed. “Is Queen Shirin not
as royal as Maryam and Khosrow? Khosrow has Shabdiz; if he would see me,
let him ride to me!” And so she refused to go to Khosrow, and would speak no
more of him.
Now the palace near Kermanshah, as we have said, was in an unhealthy place,
and Shirin thirsted for milk. She would have pastured her own cows, but the
fields near the palace were overgrown with poisonous weeds. One night, when
she was conversing with the good Shapur, she spoke of her desire for milk, and
the painter recalled one Farhad, a youth of great skill and cleverness, who had
studied with Shapur in China, under the same drawing master. Now Farhad had
mastered the works of Euclid on geometry and the treatise of Ptolemy on the stars,
but his accomplishments in engineering and sculpture were even greater. So
deftly did he carve as to make even the most obdurate stone sing with joy as he
chipped it with his chisel. Moreover he was said to be as strong as two elephants
and to have the muscles of a bull.
Farhad was summoned to the palace near Kermanshah. When he arrived, he
stood patiently outside Shirin’s quarters, with his loins girded, his massive arms
widespread. At last Shirin appeared and told him of her need for milk. What
was needed was a channel from a distant pasture, where flocks grazed, to the
palace. In the far-off field shepherds could pour milk into the trough; it would
flow to the palace, where Shirin’s servants could draw it for her. As she spoke,
Shirin’s voice was so sweet that Farhad fell completely in love with her. He stood
entranced, scarcely able to comprehend her words. Afterward, when all was
explained to him, he took his axe and shovel and set out. Within a month the
channel was finished, and in the rock by Shirin’s door Farhad dug a pool which
was already foaming with milk. When Shirin saw what he had done, she praised
him greatly. Unclasping two pearls that dangled from her ears, she gave them
to him. Farhad, overwhelmed, fled to the desert, where he wandered, weeping
and calling Shirin’s name. The wild beasts came to comfort him; the lion was his
pillow and the wolf sat at his feet. But his longing for Shirin could not be eased.
Soon, word of Farhad’s devotion to Shirin reached Khosrow’s court, and
Khosrow ordered Farhad brought to him. When Farhad appeared the king
showered him with gold. But Farhad stood unmoved—so deep was his love for
Shirin. Then Khosrow tested Farhad’s love with severe questions, and he was
astonished at the youth’s determination. At last, Khosrow asked Farhad to cut a road
through a grim and towering mountain that blocked a route he wished to travel.
Farhad agreed, but only on the condition that if he succeeded, he be given
Shirin as his reward. To this Khosrow consented, for so difficult was the task

35
 that he was sure Farhad would fail. And so Farhad was taken to Mount Bisutun.
As soon as he arrived, Farhad took his axe and carved from the forbidding
stone first an image of Shirin and then one of Khosrow riding on Shabdiz. The
images finished, his fearful work began. He labored day and night; so steadfastly
did he wield his axe that word of his prowess spread from mouth to mouth.
Even as he worked, he became a legend throughout Persia. Indeed, he paused
only to gaze upon the likeness of Shirin, to kiss its feet and moan and weep, or
to climb to the mountain top and call out to Shirin and plead his love.
When Shirin heard of Farhad’s feat, for there was none in all the land who
did not speak of it, she marveled greatly and set out for Mount Bisutun. When
he saw her, Farhad so lost his senses that with one hand he beat his chest while with
the other he continued to carve the rock. Not knowing what help to offer nor
what words to say, Shirin drew a flask of milk from her saddlebag and, with
trembling hands, gave it to Farhad. He drank it all in one draught, but it only
increased his passion. When Shirin made ready to depart, her horse, exhausted
by the steep chmb up the mountainside, stumbled at its first step. Farhad lifted
both horse and rider onto his shoulders and did not set them down again until
he reached the gate of Shirin’s residence. He returned to Bisutun, and worked
with such ferocity that the road was soon nearly completed.
Khosrow, who kept close watch on his beloved, learned of Shirin’s visit to
Bisutun and of Farhad’s progress. Greatly alarmed at the thought of Farhad
completing his task, he summoned his advisers. The eldest of them, a cunning
man, counseled him thus: “Magnificence, what is the true purpose of that youth’s
exertions but to win the heart and hand of the beautiful Shirin? What would he
do if he were to learn that that heart had stopped and that hand was stilled by a
mortal illness?”
And so a messenger was sent to Mount Bisutun, where he found Farhad
cleaving the rock. “Why do you toil your life away like this, among these rocks,
my friend?” he asked. “A strong young man like you should wield his chisel
on a maiden!”
“I work for my king and for my love,” Farhad replied with not a smile and
not a break in the rhythm of his axe.
“And who might this love be?”
“Queen Shirin it is I love, for whom I have no words but my labors. Nor have
I one more word for you!”
“Queen Shirin! Have you not heard? Shirin is dead but yesterday, taken by a
fever. All her palace howls with grief!”
Without a word, Farhad flung away his axe so savagely that the blade split
and quivered in the rock. He moaned and for the last time declared his love,

37
miniature 3 Shirin visits Farhad on the mountain
 for then he threw himself from Mount Bisutun to his death. Now the axe of
Farhad had a handle of pomegranate wood, and in the very place where it landed,
the handle took root and sprouted into a tree. And even to this day, on the
branches of that tree, fruit does grow.
When Shirin learned of Farhad’s death, her grief was great. As time passed,
she mourned more deeply still, for she understood how true Farhad had been.
And she caused a dome to be built over his grave as a place of pilgrimage for
faithful lovers. For his part, Khosrow was so tortured with remorse that he did
not know a moment’s peace. At last he sent a letter to Shirin, lamenting Farhad’s
fate and soothing her sorrow by reminding her that no one is immortal. Shirin
joyfully kissed the letter in three places, and pondered every word. But soon
she turned from Khosrow, knowing in her heart that he had crafted the destruc­
tion of Farhad.
Now it happened, shortly afterward, that the king’s consort Maryam became
ill and died. Khosrow wore robes of black and withdrew from his court, but he
mourned only for display. In secret he rejoiced; no longer was he bound by his
promise to the emperor of Byzantium. Shirin mourned for the princess for the
time prescribed, for such was the duty of everyone in the land, but after a long
while sent a reply to Khosrow’s letter. Gently she reminded the king that there
is good and bad in life, weddings and deaths, and now that Maryam was dead,
there would be other brides for him. Khosrow, she tenderly wrote, should
overcome his grief and take another wife. Whereupon Khosrow sent a mes­
senger to tell Shirin that he would marry her at last.
But this was not to be, for while they were exchanging messages, Khosrow
passed his time in feasting and enjoyment. All the rulers of the world came to
his court to pay him homage. And one day, surrounded by splendid company,
he playfully inquired as to where the most beautiful women in the world were
to be found. The strongest claim was for the Persian city of Isfahan and for the
beauty Shekar. The charms of Shekar were vividly described to him, yet for a
year Khosrow waited, unsure of his desires. At last he saddled Shabdiz and set out
for Isfahan. He was well received at Shekar’s residence; a banquet was set,
musicians played, and the lovely Shekar was brought to amuse him. Khosrow
was entranced. But when, nodding from the wine, he was led to his chamber,
Shekar sent one of her handmaidens in her place. The next morning the girl
reported to her mistress that Khosrow was unpleasing only in the sourness of his
breath. Thereupon the playful Shekar revealed her trick to Khosrow and ordered
him to return in a year’s time; meanwhile he was to eat only certain foods.
In a year’s time Khosrow dutifully returned and again, when night came,
Shekar played her trick. At dawn she sent for him and told him that no man had

38
 yet enjoyed her love. Khosrow went into the streets of Isfahan, and when he
learned from the people that Shekar had spoken truly, he brought her to his
capital as his bride. Such comfort did the beautiful Shekar provide that Khosrow
soon forgot his realm and his love for Shirin.
When Shirin first heard of this, she hid her sorrow; as the gardener tends his
flowers, so did she cultivate indifference. But for all her pretenses, her grief took
hold like a tenacious weed, and she soon gave in to despair. The name of Khosrow
was forbidden in her presence, and so troubled was she that she could not sleep.
Each night seemed like a year; from sundown until daybreak she would pray
to God to release her from her plight. At last her prayers were answered. In a
short time Khosrow tired of his new companion, and once again began to think
of Shirin.
One day Khosrow ordered a royal hunt of unsurpassed splendor to be arranged.
Among his entourage were the emperor of China and the commander of the
armies of Byzantium. Before them went youths, leading horses and scattering
incense. Guards had been brought from far-off lands, and they rode on elephants.
Musicians played drums and pipes, and banners flapped in the breeze. When
it came time to hunt, the king’s prize falcons were released, and within a week
the fields and forests were despoiled of partridges and quail. Then Khosrow left
the company and started toward Shirin’s palace. It was winter, and the night
was cold. He ordered a fire made from precious scented woods, and in the morn­
ing he warmed himself with several cups of wine. As he drank he stirred with
longing, and sent a messenger ahead to tell Shirin’s court of his arrival; he
rode on in haste.
When word of Khosrow’s approach reached the palace, Shirin had all the
doors locked. Then she stationed attendants at the gate, and gave each a tray
filled with gold coins to scatter before Khosrow. She caused a path to be made of
carpets and embroidered cloths, and set attendants in readiness to burn aloe-wood
when the king at last arrived. Then Shirin went to the roof of her palace to
watch for him. First she saw dust, then Khosrow’s companions, then Khosrow
himself, carrying white narcissus, her favorite flower. At the sight of him in
the distance, she fainted, but recovered quickly and retired to her .chamber.
Khosrow was welcomed with great festivity. Gold was showered; silks were
spread; tents were raised and covered with jeweled canopies. And in the largest
tent of all stood a golden, six-legged throne especially for Khosrow. He was a
joyful king as he triumphantly approached the palace door. But when he tried to
enter he was amazed to find it locked. He questioned all who stood around
and sent a message to Shirin, telling her that he had come to beg forgiveness
at her feet, and he would remain in the courtyard until she showed herself to him.

39
Shirin replied that she would only speak to him from her roof. Then she put
on her finest robes and returned to the roof. When Khosrow saw her, he was so
overcome that he kissed the ground. He praised her gifts—the gold, the silks, the
throne—then reproached her for locking the door against him. Was this the way
to treat an honored guest, no less a king?
Torn between desire and anger, Shirin wished Khosrow welcome with queenly
dignity. But then desire succumbed to anger, and she bitterly described the
sufferings she had endured. She reproached him for coming to her merry with
wine. If he sought love, he must be sober and take her as his wife. If he sought
only pleasure, let him return to Shekar and never come to her palace again.
Thus they quarreled, Khosrow repenting and pleading the excesses of youth,
Shirin thinking of her dishonor and of the faithful Farhad. What had Khosrow
done to prove his love? With words as hard as ice she berated him, and at last in
great despair he left the palace. Seeking sweetness he had found only bitterness.
In the cold rain and snow he rode back through the forest to his hunting party.
When he reached his tent he ordered his attendants to leave him alone with his
sorrow and the faithful Shapur, who had followed him from Shirin’s castle. All
night long Khosrow was restless; he told Shapur that he still loved Shirin and
the painter replied that lovers’ quarrels are more show than substance. “What
beauty is won with ease? Does not a rose have thorns? Take heart, my king!
Fortune is good, and in the end all will be well!”
Now as she watched Khosrow depart, Shirin felt deep remorse, and wept.
That night she saddled Golgun and, following the tracks of Shabdiz through
the woods, found her way to Khosrow’s camp. At the sound of hooves, Shapur
ran out—the guards were drunk and sleeping—and helped Shirin dismount. She
told him of her change of heart and asked two things: first, that Shapur hide her
in the camp until such time as she should decide to show herself to Khosrow,
and second, that Shapur was to help her return in safety to her palace if Khosrow
refused to marry her. Shapur agreed; he tethered Golgun, hid Shirin, and re­
turned to Khosrow’s tent.
The king slept fitfully, and when he awoke he told Shapur that he had dreamt
he was in a beautiful garden with a beautiful maiden at his side. Shapur told him
that the maiden surely was Shirin, and that they would soon be reunited. In
the meantime, Khosrow should celebrate this good omen with festivities. And so,
the next day, as the sun descended from the sky, Khosrow called forth his cup­
bearers and close attendants and drank and scattered gold. Then he dismissed
all but Shapur and summoned the spell-binding musician Barbad.
Now there was in Khosrow’s camp a second musician of unsurpassing skill.
And Shirin asked Shapur to bring Nikisa, for this was his name, to the tent in

40
miniature 4 The marriage of Khosrow and Shirin
which she hid and to station him outside so that she could whisper instructions
from within. “Let me direct him in my heart’s true measures, while Barbad gives
voice to Khosrow,” she said.
So it was that the lovers conversed in song. Their music was as clear as the
cold night air; each word shone like a star. First Nikisa sang for Shirin: she would
not be a slave to Khosrow, yet her fury had been tempered and she would
show sweetness to him. To which Barbad repled by pledging Khosrow’s eternal
love. Then Nikisa sang of loneliness: better for Shirin to die than live without
Khosrow. In turn, Barbad bewailed Shirin’s locked door; if she would come to
Khosrow, he would make her his queen and never leave her side.
As Barbad sang, Khosrow was overwhelmed and spoke above the playing
of the harp. He asked a hundred times for forgiveness and spoke so movingly
of his devotion that Shirin, unable to restrain herself, cried out. When he
heard her voice, Khosrow ran toward the tent in which she hid; she came
forth, and he tried to embrace her. But Shirin drew back, reminding Khosrow
that she would not be his until she was his wife. Then Khosrow ordered a
marriage settlement be drafted; while this was being done, they would celebrate
together. Shirin became insensible with happiness; she was so joyful and so
lovely that Khosrow was enraptured, and he could not stop gazing on her
beauty. For seven days did his eyes feast on her. Then Shirin went back to her
palace riding in a golden litter, and Khosrow returned to the capital of Meda’in
to make ready for the wedding. The royal astrologers scanned the heavens
for auspicious omens and, after much deliberation, fixed upon a day. Then
Khosrow sent a caravan of camels and horses laden with precious gifts to Shirin
to bring her back. He summoned all his nobles and told them that Shirin would
be his wife at last. They rejoiced and a splendid marriage took place on the
appointed day.
No sooner had Khosrow and Shirin exchanged their vows and invoked God’s
blessing than the blue of the sky deepened to purple with the coming of night,
and there was revelry throughout the land. The feasting and drinking at the
royal palace was greater than ever before. The musicians Barbad and Nikisa
played their harps until the early hours of the morning. Then, as the heavens
began to lighten, Khosrow was carried to the bridal chamber to which Shirin,
long wearied of the festivities, had withdrawn. When she saw that Khosrow was
dazed by wine, she was angered and sent a wrinkled, hairy, hunchbacked old
womanservant to him. It was a crone whom Khosrow took in his eager embrace;
a crow in place of a beauty, a dragon instead of the moon. The king cried out
and cursed, and threw her from the chamber. Shirin, well satisfied that Khosrow
was not beyond his senses, dismissed the servant and went in to him.

42
 As dawn broke, the lovers were united in a perfect love. The strength of the
lion mingled with the sweetness of the rose. All that day and night, and even
the next, and the day and night after that, they lingered within, until at last
their joy was spent. Then Khosrow again sat on his throne, and all around him
shared in his good fortune. He gave a great estate and the choice of Shirin’s
handmaidens for a bride to the faithful Shapur. And the good sage Bozorg Omid
and the musicians Barbad and Nikisa were given brides as well.
For many years the reign of Khosrow and Shirin was a happy one. Khosrow
was just, and his subjects knew prosperity, peace, and glory. The prophecy of
his grandfather Khosrow Anushirvan was fulfilled, for Khosrow now possessed
the four things promised him: the black stallion Shabdiz, the world’s swiftest steed,
was in his stable; Taqdis, the throne of thrones, covered with precious jewels,
stood in his palace; in his banquet-hall played the musician Barbad, who with
the touch of his harpstring surpassed all other minstrels, and at his side was his
destined love, Shirin.
But fate is fickle, and in time the wheel of fortune turned. It so happened that
a son had been born to Khosrow and the princess Maryam, and at the hour of
his birth the signs were such that the astrologers shook their heads and sighed.
Shiruyeh, as he was named, grew up just as the heavens foretold, a surly child
and a stranger to his father. Even as a boy Shiruyeh plotted to seize the throne
that one day would rightfully be his. Perceiving evil in his heart, Khosrow had
thought to kill him, but he was restrained only by the wise Bozorg Omid, who
counseled, “Might it not be, Magnifience, that from bad comes good? Who
can know God’s will?”
And so it came to pass that one day while Khosrow was praying, the wicked
Shiruyeh invaded the palace with his forces and claimed the throne. Khosrow
was put in chains and cast into a dungeon, and Shirin voluntarily went to prison
with him. Great was Khosrow’s grief, though Shirin comforted him gently
day and night. In the darkness, for the thick stone walls would admit not a
single ray of sun, she would remind him that there is both good and evil in
the world. Fortunes rise and fall; all things change. “The only constant in life,”
she said, “is inconstancy itself.” Then she spoke of love and told him stories
of the kind that close the eyes of anxious children. As he slept she paced back
and forth to stay awake; for she was afraid that harm would come to them if
they were both to sleep.
One night, as Khosrow slept, so weary was Shirin that she succumbed to sleep.
It was a strange, eerie night, for not one star could be seen. And it was this night
that a treacherous assassin crept into the dungeon through a chink in the stone
wall, and made his way to Khosrow’s cell. With his dagger, the killer stabbed

43
Khosrow in the liver, and ran off. Khosrow awoke to find himself wounded
and close to death. He thirsted for water but would not disturb Shirin, for he
knew how tired she was. The blood flowed from his wound, and without the
shghtest motion or whisper, Khosrow breathed his last.
Disturbed by the wetness of the blood-soaked robes, Shirin awoke. When she
saw Khosrow, her heart went numb with sorrow, and she wept for hours on
end. Then she asked her jailers for musk and camphor so that she could bathe
Khosrow’s body.
Now at the time Khosrow and Shirin were wed, Shiruyeh was only a boy.
But even so, he lusted for Shirin, and ever since, he desired his father’s wife as
greedily as he coveted his father’s throne. And so he sent a messenger to the
dungeon to ask Shirin to marry him, promising her a life of luxury and ease.
Shirin consented but requested first that all Khosrow’s possessions be distributed
among the poor. When this had been done, a golden bier was brought, and
Khosrow’s body was placed on it, and he was buried with great splendor. In
the streets of the city Meda’in the people wept as the body was carried past.
Kings and emperors came from distant lands, as far-off even as the Orient, to
march in the funeral procession. And among them all went Shirin, dressed not
in mourning but, to the astonishment of all, in robes of red and yellow.
When the procession reached the vault that housed the royal tombs, the bier
was carried inside. Shirin followed and asked that she be left alone to say farewell
to Khosrow and to think fondly of her future happiness. Shiruyeh, flushed with
love and triumph, readily agreed. Shirin entered the vault, locked the door, and
went to Khosrow’s side. She covered him with kisses and, with a dagger she had
hidden in her robes, fatally stabbed herself in the same place where Khosrow
had been stabbed.
Now it is said by some that when her blood flowed over Khosrow’s body,
he awakened for a moment and the lovers kissed. Yet others say that Khosrow
stirred not from his timeless sleep, but that the stars paused in their celestial
course in stark amazement at a love so fine.
When all who were outside the vault learned of what has passed within, a great
wailing arose and a year’s mourning was decreed throughout the land of Persia.
Shirin was buried beside her beloved, and above their graves an inscription was
carved as a memorial to all who love. Thus were Khosrow and Shirin united for all
eternity. And their story has been told and told again, and has become a legend,
an inspiration to all lovers faithful and true, from that time to this very day.

Detail from miniature 4

45
 COMMENTARY

Khosrow and Shirin

“Khosrow and Shirin” is the second poem of Nizami’s The love of Khosrow and Shirin was early a popular
Khamseh and the first of his romantic epics. Its pro­ subject with poets. Less than one hundred years after
tagonists are Khosrow II, the last great Sasaniahmonarch, Khosrow’s death, the Arab poet Khalid ibn Fayyaz
known as Parviz, the Victorious, and his mistress Shirin; wrote of their romance. According to literary tradition,
their love was recorded by many historians, geographers, the first Persian love couplets were engraved on the
and travelers, among them the Muslims Tabari (Bal'ami), walls of Shirin’s palace and were still legible and revered
Ibn Rustah, Ibn al-Faqih, Yaqut, and the anonymous three centuries after she died. The wonders of the horse
compiler of the Compendium of History. There are many Shabdiz also figure in many ancient stories.
descriptions of Khosrow’s palace at Ctesiphon, the palace The great Ferdowsi devoted more than four thousand
of Shirin, and especially the grotto rock-carving at couplets to Khosrow iTs reign in his Shah-nameh, or
Taq-e Bustan, the figures of which were early associated Book of Kings, composed at the end of the tenth and the
in history andlegend with Khosrow II, Shirin, and some­ beginning of the eleventh century a . d . In this account,
times the engineer Farhad. The beautiful equestrian from which Nizami drew his inspiration, the youthful
sculpture was said to be Khosrow mounted on the horse Khosrow took Shirin as his mistress and forgot her
Shabdiz.1 These archeological sites are located in close when he became king. Later, while on the way to hunt­
proximity along the ancient trade route to China, at the ing, he saw her on the terrace of her house and was again
point where the plain of Mesopotamia meets the Iranian enflamed by her beauty. Despite opposition from the
plateau. aristocracy and religious leaders because she was a com­
According to these and other sources, the long and moner, they were married. Shirin then secretly poisoned
turbulent reign of Khosrow Parviz (590-628 A. D.) was Khosrow’s first wife, the Byzantine princess Maryam.
characterized by a high, though ultimately exhausting, This dreadful act embittered Khosrow and Maryam’s son
degree of military glory and courtly splendor. In return Shiruyeh and, afraid of retaliation, Khosrow imprisoned
for political and military assistance against the usurper him. When, in a military coup, Shiruyeh was freed, he in
Bahrain Chubin, Khosrow ceded part of Armenia to turn imprisoned Khosrow and had him assassinated. He
the Emperor of Byzantium and was married to his spared Shirin only because he wanted her as his wife.
daughter Maryam. Although Nizami portrays Shirin as Shirin agreed to marry her stepson, but she demanded
an Armenian princess, chroniclers did not consider her that she retain control of her inherited wealth and that
of royal blood. The name Shirin is aPersianword mean­ she be allowed to mourn at Khosrow’s tomb. After dis­
ing sweet, and she has been variously claimed by Khuzi- tributing her assets among the poor and the temples and
stan and Syria. contributing to the construction of inns for travelers,
Secondary figures in the epic also have some historical she went to the grave, took strong poison, and died at
basis. The engineering feats of the herculean Farhad Khosrow’s side.
appear in several of the sources; and Barbad and Nikisa Khosrow, Shirin, and Farhad are also celebrated in
were the chief musicians at Khosrow’s court. Khosrow’s the poetry of Qatran, the eleventh-century court poet
fabulous horse Shabdiz is also mentioned frequently. of Tabriz and Ganjeh. In the same era, Gurgani explored

46
various aspects of love and passion in his Vis and Ramin, stately quality. Her association with Armenia is, perhaps,
using an historical-legendary theme from ancient Eastern a reflection of its geographical proximity to Ganjeh.
Iran. But Nizami was the first to fulfill all the prerequi­ Shirin, like the Byzantine Maryam, was a Christian.
sites of romance—far-off times and places, with giants, Nizami was a pious Muslim, but he tolerated and re­
dragons, and heroic exploits; sentimental and idealistic spected other religions.
exaggerations that still preserved the individual events Shirin’s sense of justice is so great that she forswears
so dear to the Near Eastern reader; and reflection on the Khosrow’s love until he should regain his throne, thus
human condition. fulfilling his responsibility to his people. Even after they
Most important, Nizami gave this material a real are married she continues to exert a strong influence
structural unity. Infusing the story with his own pro­ on Khosrow, educating him as always through example
found experience of love and expanding it with his and love. As a result the country flourished, justice was
thoughts on religion, philosophy, and government, he observed and strengthened, and science, religion, and
created a romance of great dramatic intensity. The story philosophy thrived.2
has a constant forward drive with exposition, challenge, Shirin is democratic, companionable with the faithful
mystery, crisis, climax, resolution, and, finally, catas­ painter-messenger Shapur and sensible of the depth of
trophe. The action increases in complexity as the pro­ Farhad’s wordless devotion. Though she is prey to
tagonists face mounting complications. For instance, jealousy and loneliness, she is master of her passions and
Khosrow and Shirin are not able to meet for a long time, is capable of the ultimate renunciation, death for love.3
despite their untiring efforts and the help of their con­ In contrast, Khosrow is governed by his predilection
fidant. Then, after they do meet, they are forced apart for sumptuous living and personal expediency. He is
by the political marriage of Khosrow and Maryam. selfish and vacillating. He basely tricks Farhad, forcing
When Khosrow promises Shirin to Farhad as a prize for him wittingly to suicide. However, when he comes
completing a feat of daring and endurance, the story upon Shirin bathing in a wilderness pool, he chivalrously
nearly comes to a premature conclusion. averts his eyes; and when he knows that his end is near,
After the death of Maryam and the murder-suicide of rather than wake the exhausted Shirin, he allows himself
Farhad, it seems that all obstacles are removed and to bleed to death in silence. Nizami portrays this final
the lovers will be united. But Nizami introduces an act in such a way that it becomes aremission of Khosrow’s
affair between Khosrow and a girl from Isfahan that previous sins.
further complicates and delays his union with Shirin. The tension between the strength of Shirin and the
Finally, on the lovers’ wedding night, Nizami creates a weakness of Khosrow is enhanced dramatically by
bizarre episode, a humorous entr’act that gives the Nizami’s tight control of plot and setting, and in his
reader or listener a chance to take a deep breath before development of the towering figure of Farhad. Episodes
the epic’s tragic climax. Khosrow gets drunk and Shirin of meeting and of missing, of searching and of waiting,
replaces her presence in the nuptial chamber with that of are richly entwined with scenes of the barren desert and
a knotty, wizened old crone. Through these dramatic of luxurious court life. Asceticism vies with sensuality.
devices Nizami makes a powerful commentary on Nizami’s use of allegories, parables, and words with
human behavior, on its follies, its glories, its struggles, double meaning raised the Persian language to a new
and its unbridled passions and tragedies. height. Though always pure, Nizami’s poetry is elaborate
Nizami’s deep understanding of women is strongly and flamboyant, playing on all the senses at once. The
expressed in “Khosrow and Shirin.” Shirin is the central poem is written in the light, flowing, graceful Hazaj
character and there is no question that she is a poetic mussadas maqsur meter, deliberately imitating that used
tribute to Nizami’s wife Afaq. She is well-educated, by Gurgani in Vis and Ramin. It scans as follows:
independent, fearless, resourceful, imaginative, erotic, u --- / u ---- / u -- //u ----/ u ---- / u —
and humorous. Her loyalty knows no bounds. That she There are about 6,500 couplets.
is a queen rather than a commoner gives the story a Composed after the mystico-didactic Makhzan al-

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Asrar, its exact date of completion is uncertain. The of the great masterpieces, not only in the Azarbaijani
year 576 A.H./1180 A.D. is given in some manuscripts, but in world literature. For the first time in the poetry
but many scholars believe, because of internal evidence, of the Near East, the personality of a human being has
that it was finished after 581 A.H./1184 a . d . In an been shown with all its richness, with all its contradic­
autobiographical passage woven into the text, Nizami tions and ups and downs.”6J. Rypka in his comprehensive
says that he has lived for forty years. That must be study of Iranian literature writes of “Khosrow and
construed as a conventional number, but, in any case, Shirin”: “It is the story of the love and sorrow of a
scholars disagree by six years, from 535-541 A.H./1140- princess and a woman and a wife, in its sincerity un­
1146 A.D., as to the date of his birth. Nor are the three equaled by any other work in Persian literature.”7
dedicatory invocations—to Sultan Tughrol II and to his In this volume we are presenting the first English
regents, Atabeg Muhammad JahanPahlavan and Atabeg version of Nizami’s “Khosrow and Shirin.”
Qizil Arslan—useful in establishing a secure date. Al­
though Atabeg Muhammad Jahan Pahlavan was the 1. This rock-carving, situated some six miles northeast of the
ruler of Ganjeh where Nizami lived, and Atabeg Qizil city of Kermanshah, is still not definitely identified and dated. It
Arslan gave Nizami title to a village, these dedications represents a royal investiture, a common artistic theme during the
Sasanian period.
may well have been addedby Nizami for political reasons 2. At last Khosrow finds time to pursue his interest in philosophy,
or may be later interpolations. The earliest extant text, science, and religion. With his mentor, Bozorg Omid, he discusses
dating from 763 A.H./1362 a . d ., was written some one the questions that have occupied the Persian mind for centuries:
Where do we come from? What are we here for? Where do we go?
hundred and fifty years after Nizami’s death and is They examine the characteristics of the earth and climate, and the
suspected to contain many apocryphal verses.4 formation of the universe. As Khosrow II was a contemporary of
Nizami may have written “Khosrow and Shirin” to the prophet Muhammad, they discuss Islam and his philosopher-
adviser urges him to look upon it as God’s true revelation. The
express his happiness during his marriage to Afaq, but historical Khosrow was a Zoroastrian, the national religion of the
the idealization of womanly chastity, purity, and devo­ Sasanian Empire.
tion, the recurrent theme of renunciation, and the tragic 3. The Russian scholar E. li. Bertels gives an interesting inter­
pretation of Shirin as a victim of her own fate. Her idealization of
ending make it seem more probable that it was written her beloved leads to disappointment when it undergoes the test of
as a memorial to her after her untimely death. Its pas­ reality. The strength of Shirin lies in her rising above disenchant­
sages instructing their son Muhammad in the ways of ment, in her persistent belief that one day Khosrow will measure
up to her heroic imagination. See E. E. Bertels, Nizami, Tvorcheskiy
virtue may possibly be interpreted as a sign of Nizami’s Put Poeta (Moscow, 1956), p.123.
strong affection and concern for a motherless boy. These 4. E. E. Bertels (op dt., p. 103) and J. Rypka (The Cambridge
exhortations are contained mainly in the postscripts in History of Iran, Cambridge University Press, 1968, vol. 5, p. 580)
think that “Khosrow and Shirin” was commissioned by Sultan
which Nizami muses about the transiency and vanity of Tughrol II, who asked for a romantic poem without being sperific
life on earth. Only religion is sure. As part of the about its theme. In the postscript to “Khosrow and Shirin” there
conclusion, Nizami relates a dream Khosrow had about is praise of Atabeg Qizil Arslan, who feted Nizami when he was
in the vicinity of Ganjeh. Nizami was not a court poet, but this
the prophet Muhammad, toward the end of his reign; tribute made him very happy. He describes in detail the respect
it had such an impact on the king that he could not sleep and kindness with which he was received by the ruler. This post­
for several months. script is a later addition because the poem which Atabeg Qizil
Arslan thought so highly of was “Khosrow and Shirin.”
The great Persian authority on Nizami, Vahid 5. Vahid Dastgerdi, critical edition of “Khosrow and Shirin”
Dastgerdi, calls “Khosrow and Shirin” “the best histo­ (Tehran, 1933), p. 1.
rical fable of love and chastity, the treasure of eloquence, 6. E.fi. Bertels, Nizami, Tvorcheskiy Put Poeta (Moscow, 1956),
p. 124.
counsel, and wisdom.”5 The foremost Russian specialist, 7. J. Rypka, History of Iranian Literature (Dordrecht: D.Reidel,
E. £. Bertels, believes that “Khosrow and Shirin” is “one 1968), p. 211.

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