Book 2: Epigraph


    Upon the deste fields of Mazandaran,


    Before the fluttering banners of Kai Khosrow,


    The evil hosts of Zahhak could not but flee


    Like sheep startled by spring thunder.


    His prized sword Ruknabad cleaved even iron in twain


    As if forged from a shardof the sun.


    His beloved steed Rakhsh was graced with invisible wings;


    A celebrated mount, most suitable for a Jahangir.


    As the sun in the heavens has no rival


    Upon earth there is only the Shah!


    That peerless hero Kai Khosrow


    Who with sword in hand shall assumehis divine mandate?


    Anonymous, "The Chronicles of Kai Khosrow"