Do you remember that day, dear Shahrzadi? The day I greeted you on the first magical night of our long life. How you surprised me that night! I marveled at your self-confidence, I didn't know whether to pity you or hate you, but I was sure that you would be a new atonement on the altar of my wounded pride. The more beautiful one of them was, the more beautiful she looked at him, and a little girl like you wouldn't have made the difference, for in my eyes you are nothing more than a beautiful, hard, fragrant apple that is only meant to be eaten, long or short.

You may have thought that you deceived me and lured me into listening to your tales over a thousand and one nights, and bought your life and the lives of others who would have died after you if you had failed in your amusing game, I tell you that this may be true, but what no one knows is that I am a human being like any other, I love as I hate, cry as I laugh, and rejoice in joy as I rejoice in sorrow. Yes, I was a butcher, but I was a human being, and how annoying that clutching feeling was when beautiful little heads were rolling at my feet, I would feel the sadness filling my veins and curse myself a thousand times, but as soon as I went out into the public, that wounded lion would return to the throne of my heart, and the journey of revenge would begin again.

I was bored, the world narrowed down on me, people's faces darkened in my eyes, my kingdom began to shake under my feet, and I could feel the rug about to be pulled out from under them, I said to myself that there must be an end to this absurdity, I must put an end to this madness, but all this did not lead me to reason, on the contrary, I became unconsciously and relentlessly striking and striking, I was an eagle flying over people, cracking the clouds with his wings and seeing people as flies that disgrace the face of the earth, in those moments I was standing on the brink of a precipice. In those moments when I was standing on the edge of a precipice, looking at the bottom with mockery and indifference, I really needed someone to hold my hand and pull me back, I was like an iceberg prisoner who needed the sunlight to free him and dispel his imprisonment forever.

I laughed at you in my heart when you started telling those funny stories, and I said to myself, "Something new to amuse and increase the excitement of revenge, but the sword will not escape." Two nights passed, and with each passing night, the challenge and excitement increased in my heart. A night and two nights passed, and with each passing night, the challenge and excitement grew in my heart, and my mockery of you grew as well. I was watching you day and night, observing you, counting your breezes, waiting for one slip to destroy your pride and your empty self-confidence, to declare my new victory, but why rush? With each story you told, your hand reached out to my soul more and more, and the warmth of your chest melted the ice of my ancient heart, awakening things I thought had died long ago. I kept reminding myself that no woman is safe, but I didn't catch a single slip, and yet the demon of doubt and painful memories are not dead yet, they are still like a protected sponge that imprisons my heart whenever I am about to make a decision.

The days passed, the nights began to lose their weight, the stars slowly appeared from the clouds, the moon revealed a white face of cotton, and the cold breezes of the air softened a wounded soul that had been sick for a long time, and the wall began to collapse, and the torrent began to flow, sweeping away the debris of the past, and life began to come to life, and faces began to regain their light, the world began to shine, and the sun began to smile, and the tailor's thickness opened up to an infinitely wide horizon, and the earth calmed down under my feet, and it became full of goodness and generosity. Then I realized that a new spirit had flowed into my steel body to turn it back into flesh and blood, and that a heavenly shower had enriched my heart so that it shook, grew, sprouted, sprouted, and bore fruit, yes, it bore a hot tear that I shed on your chest like an orphaned child.

Then everything changed, I changed, the world changed, and you changed, you were no longer just another girl waiting for one last morning, but you turned into an umbilical cord connecting me to the world of the living, you became an eye, soul and light, all that happened long before the thousandth night, I realized then that I became your spoiled child and my pride fell forever, it fell and collapsed without regret or remorse. When I held you in my arms and deposited your mortal body under the marble of this white tomb, I placed my cheek on it, and shed another tear that slid down my white beard to your grave and crept through the layers of dust to reach your warm chest.