The Black Dome is a part of a longer poem called Haft Peykar (Seven Beauties) by the Persian poet Nizami of Ganja (1141-1203). The seven beauties refer to seven portraits of daughters of different kings­p;from the Raj of India and the Khaghan of China to the Shah of Kharazm and the king of the West, or "Sunset-land." When Bahram the Sassanian King, discovers these portraits, he falls in love with them, and, upon succeeding to the throne vacated by the death of his father Yazdigird, he marries all seven princesses. The represent the climes into which the habitable world is divided and are lodged in separate symbolically colored palaces, beginning with the black and ending with the white. Bahram then visits them on seven successive days. This is the story of the first night.

On Saturday, Bahram, clothed in black from head to foot, went to the Black Dome where his bride, the daughter of the Raj of India lived. He asked the Princess to tell him a story and she, with her head cast down, said: When I was a child, a pious and compassionate woman visited our house once a month, and she always wore black. After many persistent inquiries, she finally acquiesced and told us the secret of her unusual attire.

When I was young, the woman said, I was servant to a mighty King in whose land sheep and wolves lived in amity. Yet fate had it that he would become the King of the Benighted, and the story I'll tell you is the tale of how he came to wear black for the rest of his life.

He was a benevolent king with an insatiable desire to learn the ways and the wonders of the world. At his command, a house was set up where all visitors to the land enjoyed the fruits of his hospitality. There the king, with his keen and curious mind, asked each visitor about his homeland, his travels, his plans and adventures. As men search for precious stones, the king sought to collect tales about other men and their lives. The richer his collection became, the hungrier he was to learn more.

But suddenly the King vanished. Like Simurg, the mythical bird, he too disappeared from our midst. A long time passed and then one day the king, completely dressed in black, reappeared and again ascended his throne.

One night, as I was tending to his needs, he began to lament the turns of his fortune. I sought the secret of his sorrow and this is the story he recounted:

You know of my habit of entertaining visitors to my land. From each I would ask about their city and its wonders. One day a wanderer arrived dressed in black. I asked about his peculiar attire. He asked me to cease my inquiry, reminding me that no one has ever learned the secret of Simurg. The more I preservers, the more he persisted in his silence. "Only the ebony-clad can grasp the essence of this blackness," he said. Yet I persisted, and he finally said:

"There is a beautiful city in China called the City of the Bedazzled. There everyone is in mourning." The wanderer then refused to utter another word and soon disappeared.

Amazed by this tale, I resolved to solve the mystery of the city. Yet nobody seemed to know anything about the place. Finally, I temporarily relinquished my throne, and taking some jewels with me, I set out to find that mysterious city.

And indeed a beautiful city it was. Its inhabitants were all dressed in black, with faces white as the moon. For a year I wandered through the city in search of a clue. Everyone seemed to know the answer, yet no one wished to talk. Finally, I befriended a noble-hearted butcher. I bestowed many a gift upon him. Then one day, assured of his friendship, I told him of how I had left my throne to fine out why these people were so grieved and always in black.

"An impudent question you've asked," he said, "but I will give you what answer I can."

That night he took me to a ruin outside the city. There we found a basket, fastened to a rope. "Sit in this basket," he said, "and then you will know why we are so grieved and always dressed in black." Once I was in the basket, by some magic, the rope fastened around my neck­p;as it fastens around the body of a captive­p;and the basket took to the air.

A tower, rising to the moon, soon came in view, and there the basket landed. I, out of fear and frustration, closed my eyes. Soon, a bird as big as a mountain perched nearby. Only a few moments passed before the bird fell asleep and I, ruing my trust in the butcher, resolved to cling to the bird and let it take me where it might.

Soon after the bird awakened, we flew away on a long journey, descending near a beautiful prairie. Flowers of every color adorned the land. Hyacinths, carnations, jasmine and roses. Cedars that lined the rivers that silently traveled through the prairie.

Overjoyed at the sight of such heavenly comforts, I wandered amongst the wilderness, napping occasionally and indulging in revelry.

A gentle wind awoke and caressed me; a spring cloud, brought along by the wind, sprayed a little rain, cool as pearls, over leaves and grass. No sooner had the rain stopped, than something new astounded me. From afar I noticed a burst of light approaching quickly. A long procession was moving toward me. Soon individual figures became distinguishable­p;they were girls, all of them, each one of such radiant beauty that I forgot the world and myself. They swayed like enchanted blossoms, wrapped in silk, their arms adorned by golden lace. Behind the veil of lighted candles which they held in their henna-colored fingers, their lips smiled enticingly. And finally the Queen, or should I say the midnight sun, appeared and ascended the throne.

A few minutes elapsed and then she said, "It seems to me someone, and earthling maybe, is here," and then she ordered one of the fairies to fetch whomever she found. The fairy came toward me and gently invited me to come before the Queen.

Once near the throne, I kissed the earth. She, however, invited me to ascend the throne and sit by her side. I refused, submitting that such a noble and lofty place befitted not I but Solomon. Yet she beckoned me to her side, treating me as an honored guest.

An attendant gently took my hand and led me closer to her throne, where I was immediately enthralled by her beauty. Libations and delicacies of all sorts were brought. Minstrels followed the feast as the cup bearer again made the rounds and filled everyone's cup to the brim.

I, emboldened by the wine and encouraged by the Queen's affectionate and enticing gestures, ventured many a kiss upon her. Finally, I asked her name. "My father called me the Beautiful Turkish Raider," she said. Surprised by the coincidence, I responded that I, too, but only for different reasons, was called a Turkish Raider. And then I invited her to a feast of love­p;a befitting compliment to our feast of wine. The glow in her eyes encouraged me to persist. But when I embraced her more passionately, she said, "Tonight, with kisses be content, and to quell the fire of your passion, take a girl of your choice." Bewildered as I was, the Queen beckoned one of the fairies and she led me to a chamber. There I laid my head upon a pillow and then clasped that beauty tightly to my breast and deflowered the rose of her beautiful garden.

At the break of the dawn, she prepared me a bath, of a heavenly fragrance and when I rose to dress, I found myself alone. I wandered into the garden and slept the day away on a bed of rose pedals and blooming flowers.

The dark veil of the night had already spread upon the sky when I awoke, and as I sat up, the fairies reappeared and repeated the revelries of the night before.

The Fairy Queen, fresh as the first day of spring, soon reascended her throne and again invited me to her side. The feast of last night, replete with exquisite wines and rare morsels, along with generous cupbearers and gorgeous dancing girls, was all there again, and the Queen was even more endearing than the fist night. The maidens left us alone in our embrace and again the passions of her body and warmth of the wine enticed me to fondle a beautiful lock of her hair. And then when I moved to engulf myself in her, she again counseled patience and warned against perfidy. "I, ever thirsty, and you so delicious a water, why such reticence?" I asked. "Tonight with kisses be content" she responded and once again I spent that most intimate hour of the night not with her but with a surrogate.

And so it was for twenty nine days and nights. I detested the long days and anxiously awaited the nights.

On the thirtieth night, the Queen and her retinue returned, lighting up the ebony colored prairie. Once again she beckoned me to her side and thus the joyous feast began anew. Soon, passion broke through the shackles with which I had tried to enchain it, and my hands, spurred by desires beyond my control, searchingly sought the most intimate of her treasures. Composed and compassionate, the Queen took my hands away and while kissing them, again implored me to have patience, consoling me with a reminder that only through patience shall I taste the fruits of the tree that was already mine.

Ravaged by desire I, in anguish, told my sun-faced beauty that patience can no longer rein in my passion.

The Queen responded, "The treasure you so deeply seek is already yours; you wish to have it too early; wait and in due time it shall be yours."

"You expect the impossible." I said. "To be so near a treasure and yet refrain from possessing it is beyond my powers."

Appealing to my reason, this time she asked me to only wait till tomorrow, adding "a night is not a year," and again suggesting that I calm myself in the company of one of her moon-faced beauties.

But this time her appeals to my reason were of no avail. Indeed they only fueled the fire of my passion; thus, oblivious to her pleas, I persisted in my search to open her ruby-like treasure.
The Queen, recognizing that I could no longer be restrained, finally said, "Close your eyes for a moment and then you can taste the flower of my treasure."

Enticed by her suggestion and anxious for eternal bliss, I obeyed and closed my eyes. A minute passed. "Now open your eyes," she said.

I opened them only to find myself alone, in a dreadful darkness, dangling in a descending basket.
My friend, ebony-clad, waited at the foot of the tower. He embraced me and said, "Now you know why we are dressed in black. Words could never convey the cause of our anguish."

I could only agree and simply asked him to fetch me some black garments. I wear them in mourning of the lost ideal; an ideal lost in search of a callow hope.

Thus ended the king's tale. I, his humble servant, in compassion also wear black, for amongst the seven colors of the seven heavens, none is a great as black.