Dear Haijin, visitors and travelers,
Welcome at a new episode of our daily haiku meme Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. This month we are reading the beautiful fairytales of 1001 Nights and today our journey goes on with another wonderful fairytale as told by Scheherazade to save her own life.
Today our story is about "The Young King of the Black Isles", so I ran through my archives to find a nice haiku (or tanka) in which the theme is "isles" or "Island", so I ran into a nice haiku which I created back in 2014 while we were on our pilgrimage along the 88 temples of Shikoku. That haiku I love to share here again:
mysterious Island
dedicated to the Path of Enlightenment
four countries as one
© Chèvrefeuille
The Story of the Young King of the Black Isles:
You must know, sire, that my father was Mahmoud, the king of this country, the Black Isles, so called from the four little mountains which were once islands, while the capital was the place where now the great lake lies. My story will tell you how these changes came about.
My father died when he was sixty-six, and I succeeded him. I married my cousin, whom I loved tenderly, and I thought she loved me too. But one afternoon, when I was half asleep, and was being fanned by two of her maids, I heard one say to the other, “What a pity it is that our mistress no longer loves our master! I believe she would like to kill him if she could, for she is an enchantress.”
I soon found by watching that they were right, and when I mortally wounded a favourite slave of hers for a great crime, she begged that she might build a palace in the garden, where she wept and bewailed him for two years. At last I begged her to cease grieving for him, for although he could not speak or move, by her enchantments she just kept him alive. She turned upon me in a rage, and said over me some magic words, and I instantly became as you see me now, half man and half marble.
Then this wicked enchantress changed the capital, which was a very populous and flourishing city, into the lake and desert plain you saw. The fish of four colours which are in it are the different races who lived in the town; the four hills are the four islands which give the name to my kingdom. All this the enchantress told me to add to my troubles. And this is not all. Every day she comes and beats me with a whip of buffalo hide.
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| The Story of the Young KIng of the Black Isles |
When the young king had finished his sad story he burst once more into tears, and the Sultan was much moved.
“Tell me,” he cried, “where is this wicked woman, and where is the miserable object of her affection, whom she just manages to keep alive?”
“Where she lives I do not know,” answered the unhappy prince, “but she goes every day at sunrise to see if the slave can yet speak to her, after she has beaten me.”
“Unfortunate king,” said the Sultan, “I will do what I can to avenge you.”
So he consulted with the young king over the best way to bring this about, and they agreed their plan should be put in effect the next day. The Sultan then rested, and the young king gave himself up to happy hopes of release. The next day the Sultan arose, and then went to the palace in the garden where the black slave was. He drew his sword and destroyed the little life that remained in him, and then threw the body down a well. He then lay down on the couch where the slave had been, and waited for the enchantress.
She went first to the young king, whom she beat with a hundred blows. Then she came to the room where she thought her wounded slave was, but where the Sultan really lay.
She came near his couch and said, “Are you better to-day, my dear slave? Speak but one word to me.”
“How can I be better,” answered the Sultan, imitating the language of the Ethiopians, “when I can never sleep for the cries and groans of your husband?”
“What joy to hear you speak!” answered the queen. “Do you wish him to regain his proper shape?”
“Yes,” said the Sultan; “hasten to set him at liberty, so that I may no longer hear his cries.”
blue oceans
filled with all kinds of life
no more tears
© Chèvrefeuille
The queen at once went out and took a cup of water, and said over it some words that made it boil as if it were on the fire. Then she threw it over the prince, who at once regained his own form. He was filled with joy, but the enchantress said, “Hasten away from this place and never come back, lest I kill you.”
So he hid himself to see the end of the Sultan’s plan.
The enchantress went back to the Palace of Tears and said, “Now I have done what you wished.”
“What you have done,” said the Sultan, “is not enough to cure me. Every day at midnight all the people whom you have changed into fish lift their heads out of the lake and cry for vengeance. Go quickly, and give them their proper shape.”
Isn't that a story? This story continues ... so the last part of this story you can find at ou "The Story Goes On" page above in the menu.
This (belated) episode is NOW OPEN for your submissions and will remain open until January 17th at noon (CET). I will try to publish our new episode, The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor (introduction to the Theme week), later on. For now ... have fun and be inspired.
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