🦅 IRANLORE | ایران‌نامه
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Heroic Era (Kianian)

Eskandar

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29 distichs in this chapter
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The Mourning of Sekandar's Mother and Roshanak, the Burial, and Reflection on Transience
When the mighty conqueror of the world drew his final breath, his grief-stricken mother rushed to his side, weeping bitterly and rubbing her face against his cold chest. She lamented aloud for her renowned and star-favored son who had once commanded continents, crying out that though he lay physically near, he was now infinitely distant from her, his line, and his battle-hardened legions. She offered her soul to his, calling down ruin upon any heart that dared rejoice in his demise.

Then came Roshanak, his heart-broken queen, stepping forward in tears to mourn over the casket of her lord. She recalled how he had seized the throne of Dara and held the world upright by his might. Where were the fallen monarchs now—Khosrow, Ashk, Faryan, Fur, and the famous ruler of Shahrozor—whose crowns he had cast into the dust? Sekandar had raged like a storm cloud raining hail, and many had believed he was immune to death itself after surviving countless battlefields and blood-soaked campaigns. Yet after emptying the earth of its great kings, he too cast away the imperial diadem and embraced the silent bosom of the earth.

As the crown of heaven sank into the soil, the assembled nobles fell silent. They lowered the royal casket into the dark grave, contemplating how the unfeeling cosmos shows no terror nor pity before the death of emperors. The wind of fate sweeps all away into non-existence, revealing neither rhyme nor reason, nor favoring king over beggar. In this fleeting world, nothing endures save goodness, magnanimity, and righteous deeds; for if a foul name is left behind, no soul shall find entrance into paradise.

Such is the timeless law of the ancient abode. Sekandar vanquished thirty-six kings and built ten magnificent cities, yet in the end, his hands were empty, and those golden cities turned to brambles and dust. He sought what no man had ever sought, but all that remains of his vast empire is the living Word—a monument that neither rain nor snow can decay, enduring long after every mortal head has returned to dust.

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The Guide
Companion of Epic Lore & Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh
Greetings, seeker of ancient lore! I am The Guide, your companion through the heroes, monarchs, mythical creatures, and timeless verses of the Shahnameh. Ask me anything about the epic tradition.
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