Nearly thirty years ago, I found the opportunity to take down the Shahnameh from my father’s library. Opening it with the timeless invocation—“In the name of the Lord of life and wisdom”—I began a journey that would only end when I came to realize that among all the grand structures of human creation, it is the palace of literature that stands firm across the centuries. All else, no matter how majestic, eventually falls—worn down by rain and scorched by sun.
From the opening “Bebesmelah” to the closing word “Aftab” (sun), I drank deeply from this ancient, enduring cup of poetry and memory.
From dawn to dusk I sat and drank from our ancient and everlasting source of poetry and prose. I often asked myself: how did our prehistoric ancestors, who neither wrote nor recorded their lives, somehow pass down knowledge of their way of living, their attire, and their worldview to Ferdowsi?
A thousand years ago, when Ferdowsi wrote of Keyumars, scholars had no understanding of early human life. The idea that our ancestors lived in caves was only proposed in the 17th century. So how, centuries earlier, did Persians know that those ancestors wore animal skins, couldn’t write, didn’t yet know fire?
Before opening the Shahnameh, I had assumed Ferdowsi simply glorified kings. But I was mistaken. Again and again, he offered them advice, even criticism. As I read between the lines, I came to understand something deeper: it wasn’t merely Ferdowsi speaking—it was the voice of Iranian culture itself, guiding his pen and offering its wisdom through him.
Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate just how masterfully Ferdowsi, working with the historical and mythical sources available to him, transformed tens of thousands of years of Iranian memory into poetic form. In doing so, he not only preserved a nation’s collective story but also showcased the remarkable expressive range of the Persian language.
One of the most striking aspects of my reading experience was Ferdowsi’s vivid and endlessly creative descriptions of sunrise and sunset. Across the Shahnameh, these natural moments are depicted more than two hundred times—and yet, each time, with fresh beauty and imagination. He never repeats himself. With every dawn, he brings the sun forth from the earth in a new way; with every dusk, he returns it to the soil through a different lens—always graceful, always poetic.
To describe the sun’s journey, Ferdowsi draws on flowers, birds, animals, and elements of the natural world. Through these metaphors, he teaches us—Persian speakers—that our language is not static, but vibrant and alive. And he reminds the world that our national pride lies not in the strength of our arms, but in the depth of our literature.
For nearly three decades, I’ve intended to collect and catalog all the verses in the Shahnameh that portray the rising and setting of the sun. As a symbolic child of Iraj, I felt it was my cultural duty to share this joy with others. But time and circumstance always stood in the way—until recently, when help came from an unexpected cousin, another descendant of Fereydun.
My discovery of DeepSeek, a powerful digital tool developed by the Turanians, finally gave me the means to act. I set aside old grievances with Afrasiab and embraced this technology to explore one of the most authoritative editions of the Shahnameh, edited by the esteemed Dr. Djalal Khaleghi-Motlagh.
The result of that journey is now available through a link I’ve shared—an invitation for others to witness the wonder of Ferdowsi’s artistry and to marvel at the delicate brilliance of his imagination.
Over multiple discussions with this descendant of Fereydun, I gathered as many verses as possible—both those I knew and those he recognized—about the sunrise and sunset in the Shahnameh. It’s quite possible that some lines were overlooked, and I leave it to fellow Shahnameh enthusiasts to uncover any that remain.
As shown in the attached file, I found a total of 246 references to the dawn and dusk of the sun throughout the epic. While some verses are repeated in different sections, there are 117 unique couplets specifically describing sunrise and sunset.
The verse “When the sun rose over the mountain’s crown — it granted light and abundance to the world” is the most frequently repeated line for sunrise, appearing 17 times. Overall, sunrise is portrayed 131 times, while sunset is depicted 115 times.
The line “When the sun slipped beyond the clouds — darkness spilled from the eyes of the stars” appears 13 times and is the most repeated description of sunset.
I had hoped to find exactly 365 verses referencing the sun’s rising and setting — a fitting number for the days of the year — and to craft a reflection inspired by this magical figure. Although that wasn’t the case, I find solace in the fact that our mythology celebrates sunrise more often than sunset, and I hope the bright sun of hope always shines in the hearts of the people of this land.
I won’t keep you longer with the numbers here. Instead, I’ve provided a link to the Excel file so you can explore and analyze the verses yourself, sorting and searching as you like to fully appreciate Ferdowsi’s poetic mastery.
