Scheherazade, Dinharazade, stories from 1001 night. How is the precious princess called ? Part III

——–Part III—————

While of that became in the palace……………..

…a big kettle with rose water directly in the garden pushed, the wholesome smell lay down above the festively covered board. Shana and Erdana led Schahrayâr to his place, sit down beside Him as his dinner partners in addition. Now after the different presoups and the fresh Nargessi, the main way should be taken in the lake.

On the lake the small wind lamps were solved, slowly they rose against the sky, the music on the stage started. The history could begin. The sultan was stirred very much. No action escaped Him. A strangely dirty woman came on the stage. Their stooped back, the slow way and your old hands showed to everybody that it had worked for a long time on the field. She bent down and broke up the mucky-like earth which was scattered on the stage, what was right into the made channels, this closed and trod down the furrows again. Now raised you the head and spoke with the audience: “This wonderful princess would like to become a main woman”, your voice trembled, has created “still no sultan it up to now to guess your name. Who positions himself to this challenge?” The music fell silent and all persons present saw on Schahrayâr.

Thorus kindled his herbal smoke in the last campfire when he saw the climbing up lampions, “just still on time”, he thought. The wind pressed the smoke the single mountain paths under it to the lake and covered everything in a fog, even the palace of the hoist was not to be recognised by the mountain paths any more. Now it depended on Scheherazade.

The sultan was inspired by the prelude of the piece. He liked exciting stories. He pushed his plate Tschelo Kabāb aside and agreed with the words: “Thus we make it, I guess the name, before the morning dreads, it is seen around your destiny”, with a movement of the hand he pulled his saber and stuck with the point in the middle of the table. This was an infallible sign for everybody, everybody knew what would happen. To reinstate only slowly began the music and the story could go on.

From the lake the stage was wrapped up in a fragrant fog. The ground was not right any more to recognise. The old woman went slowly to the stage side. Having come almost at the end, she suddenly turned round on the sales, with an applause in your hands she disappeared in a cloud of smoke. The brown mucky earth moved, under the not visible hatches the ground of the stage opened. The spectators were inspired, because dozens dancers and female dancers came out in many white veils were dressed up, danced, strewed earth in all directions.

In a great hurry and unnoticed achieved Scheherazade the rear stage part. Here Thorus already waited for his sister-in-law. He handed over Scheherazade a small box. The small box disappeared under Scheherazade’s disguising. It was time for Dinharazade’s an appearance.


The dancer’s group formed a closed row, danced to the footbridge in the lake over. The fog became a little more transparent, now 6 illuminated mountain paths were better to recognise. As with magic hand all dancers had disappeared, a dancer had been left. She moved with light steps again at the stage middle. In theirs mauve sari it was recognised immediately by the king Kalemanszus, it was Dinharazade. There sounded a gong blow. The curtain fell, a short break, with the light sound of the Daira’s and sitars the next way was rung in. Now many employees served the dessert. The sultan enjoyed the Baghlavā and the sweet rice. Mandaragat hit the stage gong again, the curtain rose. Dinharazade and Thorus took at the table of the sultan’s place. Schahrayâr welcomed both warmly. Now, nevertheless, he could imagine who was the wonderful princess.

Now on the stage the dancers appeared with white and orange costumes. In your dance they walked round the old dirty woman, a mauve red-orange coloured cloud slowly rose from the stage middle out and fell on the whole dancer’s group. Organge veils flew red by the air, suddenly rose from internal of this dyed circle of Scheherazade out.


She turned round and dropped the dirty sari. She stretched your hand with a small box in the sky up. All lights and lamps went out on the stage. Now Schahrayâr had to recognise that the sun just rose. “How is the wonderful princess called?“ Scheherazade asked the sultan and pointed, on this occasion, at your small box. Schahrayâr knew no answer to it, smiling the sultan said to all persons present that today nobody is decapitated. He has recognised Scheherazade and there your history would have had no end, tonight the story would further have to be continued. With a relief it was taken these sentences by Shana and your friends to knowledge. There followed another nearly 1000 stories. Schahrayâr took Scheherazade to his first woman and so long he lived he decapitated nobody more.


Until the next time, I wish you a nice weekend Love Greetings from an exiled living Hamburger in NRW.