"What troubles your soul, Shahryar,
A stranger you seem to me
Am I not the secret of secrets?
In my face the joy of darkness gone by
In my gaze the mystery of a dangerous night
and my beauty, future’s distant answer
to an impossible from yesterday’s sigh ?"
“Scheherazade,
Two thousand nights have passed
And still your words are Unknown
Are you a form of reality,
Or a lie from the dawn of time ?
Are you of the human race,
Or the daughter of nature herself ?
Born to imprison my soul in her chambers,
That I may forget my limitless space
And her hazlenut eyes
Confine the meaning of existence
Who are you ? What are you ?
If your soul cannot lift the mystery
Then I shall find in the sands of deserts
In the illusions of the skies
In the shades of never-ending forests,
That which shall free me from the chain
Of a question that brings nothing but pain”
“Run away, child
to taste the fruits of forgetfulness
yet in the what the desert offers of sands,
what the trees offer of shade
what the skies offer of stars
what the birds offer in prayers
You shall find of me a vision
And you shall return, a man:
I am all that was
All that is
All that shall be,
No mortal man has me yet unveiled
For if fate ever shows,
your anxious soul
A glimpse of my own,
Would you bear my existence
Beyond the light of one dawn?"
By Comte Almaviva
