Mahoe’s lies, deception, duplicity, obviously’d be laid bare,
Unwise, unthinkable, unsafe, he would the Sharyar, spare.
Time of uncertainty, tribulation, adversity, calamity, strife,
Deplorable Mahoe feared for his worthless, wretched, life.
For Mahoe, Barsam's army's arrival was unwelcome news,
Summoned advisors to hear their opinions, advice, views.
Some said “Aid Sharyar, for you, he was benevolent, good.”
His vile son said,“ For your safety, die, Shahryar, should.”
Mahoe misled Yazdgerd, Turanians had invaded the land,
Defenseless, alone, king, faced Turanians, sword in hand.
Shahryar, by rattling, the mill’s door, awakened, roused,
Not pity, or deference, but greed, covetousness, aroused.
In wicked, immoral, depraved, miller, Khosrow’s breast,
Seeing wounded Sharyar, leaning against a wall, at rest.
Undoubtedly, undeniably, it was the Shahryar, in flight,
Unforeseen situation could alleviate his poverty, plight.
Yazdgerd said,“I took refuge in your water mill at night,
Rest for a while, eat, drink, heal my wounds, if I might.
I'm a wounded Persian soldier, he groaned, sat upright,
My presence, for you, no cause for apprehension, fright.
Food, drink, three days and nights, now, have had none,
To heal my wounds, in nearby village, is there someone?”
Miller Khosrow said, “The chives, yogurt, you may take,
Also, bread from the barley, I grind, in the mill, make.”
After food, water, as exhausted, injured Shahryar slept,
Seek advice, unscrupulous village head, Khosrow crept.
Immoral village head, Khosrow, see Mahoe Suri, went,
Mahoe, joyfully, ecstatically, soldiers, with them sent.