Scheherazade met the king each night
She took him to wonderful realms of yore
Fables and magic and so much more
Each night she spun a magical weave
More pleasure than they could ever conceive
Now truth even her eyes could not perceive
They swam in magical seas
They learnt about the birds and bees
They learnt they could not live without cool breeze
A delicious icy wind that thawed their pains
One that promised many more years of cold play
Not for them these warm waters
Together they dreamed of distant quarters
A land away from dreadful memories
To cherish in all its glories
Together they sank in the imaginary dream
For a thousand nights and more it seemed
Now the king needed to choose
Off with her head
Or hold her real close
What do you think he proposed?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem