THE SCENE: Challenged at every turn, the young upstart Zal proves himself to be a man of mettle when he solves a plethora of riddles.
THE TEXT: The sages say with Zal and questioned him, to test his wisdom. One of them said, “There are twelve flourishing, splendid cypress trees, each of which has thirty branches.” Another said, “There are two fine, swiftly galloping horses, one black as a sea of pitch, the other white as clear crystal. They struggle and strive, but neither can overtake the other.” A third said, “This is a wonder: there is a group of riders who pass by the prince, and sometimes there are thirty of them when you look, sometimes twenty-nine. One is not there, and then you count again and there are thirty.” A fourth said, “You see a beautiful meadow filled with green plants and threaded with streams. A man comes there, holding a huge scythe, and he cuts down the plants, whether they are fresh or dry, never swerving aside as he does so.” Another said, “There are two cypresses rising from the ocean, and a bird has built nests there. He sits on one at night and on the other during the day. When he flies up from the one, its leaves wither and dry, and when he sits on the other it exhales the scent of musk. One is always withered, the other always fresh and fragrant.” Another said, “In the mountains I discovered a flourishing city, but people left it, preferring a thorny waste, where they built houses towering up to the moon; they forgot the flourishing city and never mentioned it. Then an earthquake came, and their houses disappeared, and they longed for the city that they had left. Now, explain these saying to us: if you can do so, you will be turning dust to musk.”
Zal sat deep in thought for a while; then he threw back his shoulders, breathed deeply; and answered the priests’ questions, saying, “First, the twelve tall trees, each of which had thirty branches, are the twelve months of the year; twelve times the moon is renewed in her place, like a new king seated on his thrones, and each month has thirty days; this is how time passes. As for the two horses who gallop swiftly as fire, the white and the black striving to overtake one another, they are night and day which pass over us across the heavens. Third, the thirty horsemen you spoke of who pass before the prince – of whom one is lacking, and then when one counts there are thirty again – these signify the fact that in some months one night is sometimes lacking. Now I shall unsheathe the sword of my speech and explain the two trees on which the bird builds its nests. From the sign of Aries to that of Libra the world lies in darkness until is passes into the sign of Pisces, and the two cypresses are the two halves of the heavens, of which half is always withered and one fresh. The bird is the sun, which keeps the world in hope and fear. The city in the mountains is the eternal world, and the thorny waste is the fleeting world, which gives us now caresses and riches, and now pain and suffering. God counts your breaths and prolongs or breaks off your days; a wind arises and the earth shakes, and the world is filled with cries and lamentation. The man with the sharp scythe who cuts down both the fresh and withered plants, and who listened to no entreaties, is Time, the reaper, and we are like the plants who are cut down, grandfather and grandchild alike, since he looks at neither young nor old but cuts down all in his path. This is the way of the world, and no man is born from his mother but to die.
When Zal finished his explanation, everyone there was astonished at his understanding. The King’s heart was pleased; he enthusiastically applauded him and gave orders that a banquet as splendid as the full moon be held. They drank wine until the world grew dark and their wits were befuddle: the courtiers cries resounded about the court, and when they left they did so happy and drunk, grasping one another’s arms.
– The Shahnameh, Abolqasem Ferdowsi, 10th Century AD
