The bazaar was slowly vanishing by the night
Oil lamps, carpets, flying monkeys spreading their wings
Within their cages, reflecting the blessing, silver
Light of the moon, with respect to the dance
Of the tulip gardens, of the petals, of the leaves
While – the djinn had escaped his lamp – he trails
Hundreds, thousands of coins were rolling on their trails
In the stories of the Scheherazade, neverending, every night
Powders of slumber worked, silent footsteps, she leaves
She cries, tears, drop by drop, wants to have wings
And fly away, no one can follow her, she won’t have to dance
With death every night, but watch by the balcony, the blessing moonsilver
The vizier was sad, looking at the mirror of truth, bright silver
He saw what he had allowed, his past, and his trails
He had reluctantly let his baby to cry, to dance
Unwillingly, so, he had to put an end to this tonight
However, the mind-reading monkey was praising for its wings
That he can fly to Shahryar and tell its readings, poof, he leaves
Djinn loved to drain life, love, to create broken hearts, dry leaves
He could never hear the silence of the moonsilver
He saw the flying monkey from the top of the balcony, flapping its wings
His lust emerged; wanting to stop its trails
Poor djinn, he had no idea what the monkey would do this night
Stopping the monkey, the evil, the harmony, the dance
His spells morph the monkey, like a puppet, that can dance
The evil mind, the vile, flies away, leaves
While the djinn disperses in the night
The vizier? He still looks at the fatebinder, the moonsilver
Thinking of Scheherazade, her chosen road, her trails
The slumber powders were to be her wings
An angel of a sorcerer puts Scheherazade under its wings
Created to save her, with artifacts of a demon, a dark dance
In the middle of the night, leads her the way out, illuminates her trails
And she follows, forgetting everything behind, she leaves
They say that it looks more beautiful from the palace, the moonsilver
So, by the balcony, for the last time, she looks at it, bright in the night
Spreads her wings, just before she leaves
Sanity of her dance, enlightened by the moonsilver
No one will follow her trails, in the bazaar, vanishing, she died, that night.
