Translated from the Persian with Claude; edited and published by Owrang.
[Translator's note: Roya, the Girl's name, is the Persian word for "dream"; Arezoo means "wish" or "longing".]
[A room onstage: a table, two chairs, and a rickety bookcase, one shelf of which serves as a dish rack. An old wardrobe stands at the back, to the right, and a window is set above the bed at the rear. The Writer, a young man, is writing at the table. Imagination, another young man, sits on the bed with his legs stretched out. The Writer stares in despair at a page covered in scribbles, crumples it, and throws it at his feet, where other discarded pages lie.]
IMAGINATION
Oh, poor page!
THE WRITER
There you go, opening your mouth again.
IMAGINATION
Sympathy is a good feeling.
THE WRITER
There's no need for you to sympathize with my pages. The best thing you can do is keep quiet.
IMAGINATION
(crosses his legs) I'm tired.
THE WRITER
I don't know why it doesn't come out right.
IMAGINATION
Because you don't dip it right.
THE WRITER
Dip what? (pause) Here you go again.
[The Writer lights a cigarette and rubs his temples.]
IMAGINATION
My friend, you sit at this table for hours, scribbling all over those poor sheets of paper. Then you mercilessly crumple them up and throw them away. You sigh, you complain ...
THE WRITER
And listen to your endless chatter. You forgot that part.
IMAGINATION
I talk when I feel you've given up.
THE WRITER
Oh, of course, you're here to encourage me. Thank you. Ah, if you weren't here ... how wonderful that would be.
IMAGINATION
I'm trying to make things easier.
THE WRITER
How? By chattering at the wrong moments?
IMAGINATION
At the wrong moments? Or whenever you want me to?
THE WRITER
Whenever I want you to? That's rich. Then where were you when that director threw me in here and slammed the door in my face? You know perfectly well I'm imprisoned on this stage, and I have to hand over a good play in two days. All because you egged me on and set me against him. Then you cleared off to God knows where, strolling along the seaside or drinking your damned fruit juice in some park. All you know how to do is waste my lonely hours.
IMAGINATION
You're just tired, that's all.
THE WRITER
I just want to be alone. That's all. I keep wanting to focus on my work, but you won't let me.
IMAGINATION
In this stuffy air, at this crummy table ... no prince would set foot in a room like this.
THE WRITER
A prince? Who said I was looking for a prince, my dear Imagination? I only wish you had their good taste and would leave this place.
IMAGINATION
But I put up with it.
THE WRITER
But I don't. I have no need for imagination and daydreaming. I'm looking for a real subject, not like you.
IMAGINATION
(angry) There's only one real subject in this room, and it's the same old story: a writer found dead beneath a heap of crumpled paper, the stench filling the room, and the first thing the police do is open the window to let in some fresh air.
[Imagination opens the window and looks outside.]
THE WRITER
You were supposed to give me some encouragement, but it looks as though you've given up too. (turns toward the window and takes a deep breath) Ah, what lovely air! (rests his head on the table and falls asleep)
IMAGINATION
A girl is sitting on a suitcase in the rain, her face lifted toward the sky so the rain will soak her even more ... From here, she looks like a dream.
[The stage goes dark. Imagination moves away from the window and disappears into the darkness. Rain can be heard. A moment later, a Girl enters carrying a suitcase. Her clothes are soaked, and her nose is running. She reaches center stage and sneezes. The Writer wakes with a start. The lights come up, and the Writer approaches the Girl, who has not noticed him. She blows her nose into a handkerchief and looks around. Suddenly she notices the Writer, and they both jump back.]
THE GIRL
Oh God, you scared me.
THE WRITER
So did you.
THE GIRL
Poor me! Am I really that frightening?
THE WRITER
Then I must be.
THE GIRL
No, not at all.
THE WRITER
Thank you very much. Well, now could you kindly tell me who you are?
THE GIRL
I ... I ... (gives a loud sneeze)
THE WRITER
What are you doing here?
THE GIRL
I ... I ... (sneezes again; the Writer draws back) Ah, that's a relief.
THE WRITER
Thank God. Now, will you please answer my question, ma'am.
THE GIRL
(excited) Ma'am?!
THE WRITER
Yes, ma'am.
THE GIRL
Nobody has ever called me ma'am before.
THE WRITER
Why, aren't you a lady?
THE GIRL
Well, not quite ... I'm still ...
THE WRITER
I see. Then I should say young lady.
THE GIRL
How wonderful. Young lady.
THE WRITER
Why, what do they call you?
THE GIRL
Whatever anyone feels like.
THE WRITER
But you must have a name.
THE GIRL
Yes. That's what I said too
THE WRITER
To whom?
THE GIRL
To the ones I used to work for before. Like the last one. They used to call me Chief Busybody.
THE WRITER
What for?
THE GIRL
Well, they were giving the hero of their story a really hard time. Just to show he was a hero, they wanted to make him cross a desert full of needles. Then a desert full of salt so his feet would burn. Then a barren wilderness. Then ...
THE WRITER
How cruel!
THE GIRL
Yes. Have you ever seen such a horrible imaginary world?
THE WRITER
It's more like a nightmare.
THE GIRL
That's what I said too. But they said, that's not for you to concern yourself with, Chief Busybody. You'd better mind your own business. (mimics)
THE WRITER
So how did you end up here?
THE GIRL
Well, I didn't mind my own business and stuck my nose into their work again. I mean, that's what they said.
THE WRITER
Well, that's what comes of being nosy.
THE GIRL
But I only ...
THE WRITER
Enough. Enough. You'd better try to mind your own business from now on. Because nobody likes a nosy person. Got it?
THE GIRL
Yes, sir.
THE WRITER
You know, I fired my colleague too, because he was always meddling in my work, just like you. Always stupid suggestions, always idle fantasies. I threw him out of my mind.
THE GIRL
Maybe he wanted to help you too.
THE WRITER
But I don't need his daydreaming.
THE GIRL
Lots of people live on their imaginations.
THE WRITER
But I don't need it. I ... I ...
THE GIRL
You're looking for a real subject, a real hero.
THE WRITER
Yes. But how did you know?
THE GIRL
All writers say the same things.
THE WRITER
So that's how it is.
THE GIRL
Yes, that's how it is.
THE WRITER
Well, so what?
THE GIRL
What do you mean, so what?
THE WRITER
So you think you can just barge into the middle of my work without permission? Looks like you really are nosy.
THE GIRL
Well ... well, I only wanted to help you.
THE WRITER
But I didn't give permission.
THE GIRL
But you're stuck ... you're drowning.
THE WRITER
Drowning!?
THE GIRL
Yes. You're floundering in the middle of a sea of words.
THE WRITER
All right .... all right .... thank you.
THE GIRL
(delighted) No one's ever thanked me before.
THE WRITER
I do thank you .... but ...
THE GIRL
You're welcome. Your colleague's gone and you're alone. You know, I ... I can help you.
THE WRITER
Help?
THE GIRL
Yes. In your colleague's place.
THE WRITER
Yes, perhaps ... but ...
THE GIRL
Believe me, I really can. We can make a good couple.
[She goes toward the Writer and the Writer pulls back.]
THE WRITER
I beg your pardon?!
THE GIRL
I can help you.
THE WRITER
Enough. Enough. What, do you want people talking behind our backs? Don't come any closer ... don't come any closer ... Come on, I don't even know you. What are you doing? Get back.
THE GIRL
You rascal!
[She raises her hand and takes up an attacking stance.]
THE WRITER
No, wait. I didn't mean to upset you.
THE GIRL
I'll get you for that!
THE WRITER
No ... please. ... I wanted ...
[The Girl strikes the Writer on the shoulder and he falls to the floor. The Girl bends down to the floor and looks for something.]
THE WRITER
Lunatic ... lunatic.
THE GIRL
Oh, damn! It got away.
THE WRITER
Got away?
THE GIRL
Look, a fly.
[She points at it in the air. The Writer gets up with difficulty.]
THE WRITER
You nearly killed me!
THE GIRL
(laughs) You?
THE WRITER
Yes. Yes, laugh. You've every right to. Tell me, why did you even want to kill that poor fly?
THE GIRL
So it can be at peace.
THE WRITER
How do you know it's unhappy?
THE GIRL
All flies are unhappy in one way or another. Just listen to their buzzing.
THE WRITER
Silly girl! Flies are among the most carefree creatures on earth. Every day they buzz around, multiplying, by the millions, no less.
THE GIRL
How come you don't know? All flies are lovesick lovers searching for their love.
THE WRITER
What's this nonsense you're cobbling together?
THE GIRL
I'm surprised. You're a writer, but you don't know a thing about the old fairy tales. Do you want me to tell you?
THE WRITER
No.
THE GIRL
Once upon a time, a very, very beautiful princess was captured by a monster and imprisoned in a tall tower. Her father, a wealthy king, ordered his heralds to proclaim throughout the land that whoever rescued his daughter would become the king's son-in-law.
THE WRITER
What a trick!
[He pours himself some tea.]
THE GIRL
How do you know it's a trick?
THE WRITER
It's obvious. (pause) He cooked up the whole scheme to rescue his one and only daughter. And the moment the girl turns up, the poor lover, poof!
THE GIRL
(shrugs) I don't know, maybe. But from then on lots of people lost their lives trying to rescue that girl.
THE WRITER
They were idiots.
[The Writer drinks his tea.]
THE GIRL
Are you married?
[The Writer, flustered, chokes on his tea.]
THE GIRL
What happened? Did you burn yourself?
THE WRITER
What did you say?
THE GIRL
I said, was it hot?
THE WRITER
What?
THE GIRL
Why did you get flustered?
THE WRITER
Yes. I mean no. The tea was hot, I burned my mouth.
THE GIRL
Well, you didn't say, are you married or not?
THE WRITER
No. Of course not ... what am I, an ass?
THE GIRL
I don't know.
THE WRITER
No, I'm not. That's exactly why I haven't married. Because I don't want to lose my life over my feelings like the lovers in your fairy tale.
THE GIRL
How cruel.
THE WRITER
Not at all, this is pure realism.
THE GIRL
How unromantic!
THE WRITER
All right, Miss Romantic and Sentimental, you'd better finish your story. I've got a lot of work to do.
THE GIRL
At last, one day, a prince who had tried everything to get into the tower went to a sorcerer. He paid him a great deal of money for a potion that would turn him into a fly, so he could slip through the window and enter the tower.
THE WRITER
So he succeeded.
THE GIRL
No. Because they'd put wire mesh over all the windows.
THE WRITER
So you think all these flies might be that prince?
THE GIRL
Well, one of them has to be. And the only way to find out is to kill them. Then the real prince will become himself again.
THE WRITER
And if he doesn't?
THE GIRL
Well, obviously they're real flies.
THE WRITER
I think at your last job you told these same ridiculous stories too, and that's why they fired you.
THE GIRL
You think this story ... Listen. Here it comes. Now ... aha ...
[The Girl climbs onto the table.]
THE WRITER
What are you doing, girl? Come down ...
THE GIRL
There it is! I'll kill it now, and it'll be free of all its pain.
[She takes off her shoe and takes aim.]
THE WRITER
Watch out for that .... lamp.
[The Girl strikes the lamp hard. It sparks, and the light goes out, flickering on and off for a few moments. In the flashes, we see the Girl and a young man wearing a cloak, both struggling to keep their balance. The Girl loses hers and falls from the table toward the standing Writer. The lights go out completely.]
THE GIRL
Ow, my leg. Why did you dodge and not catch me?
[The Writer strikes a match and holds it in front of the Girl's face.]
THE WRITER
That's all I needed.
THE GIRL
You jerk! I never want to see you again.
[The Girl blows out the match and everything goes dark again.]
THE WRITER
Now what's happened? Is it broken?
THE GIRL
What difference does it make to you?
[The Writer strikes another match.]
THE WRITER
Look, I ... I ... but ...
[An excited voice is heard.]
THE YOUNG MAN
I ... I ...
[The Writer raises the match. A young man in splendid clothes, cloak, and boots is standing on the table, looking at him excitedly.]
THE WRITER
Oh God .... I can't believe it
[The room's electricity comes back on. The Young Man keeps running his hands over his body, examining himself. The Writer backs away and sits beside the Girl.]
THE WRITER
See what you've done? See?
THE GIRL
(still fussing with her leg) What have I done? What have you done? You'd better pray my leg isn't broken, or you'll have to ...
THE WRITER
Looks like you don't get it at all. Look. Look up there.
THE YOUNG MAN
Look! I'm myself again! Look!
[On seeing the Young Man, the Girl forgets the pain in her leg and gets up.]
THE GIRL
See, I told you. (to the Young Man) Oh, prince, oh, dreamlike beloved, / every midnight I dreamed that you would come.
THE WRITER
Give it a rest, girl, what's this drivel you're spinning? What prince?
THE YOUNG MAN
Please, help me get down.
[The Young Man holds out his hand to the Writer. The Writer hesitates, but at a signal from the Girl, takes his hand and helps him down. The Young Man looks around.]
THE YOUNG MAN
Where am I? Where is this place? What am I doing here?
THE GIRL
Don't you remember? You're a prince. A fairy-tale prince.
THE YOUNG MAN
Me? ... I don't remember a thing ... I ... bzzzzzzzz ... (covers his mouth) Why am I buzzing? Bzz, bzz? I ... yes, yes, now it's coming back to me. I was a fly for a long, long time ... A fly! (cries)
THE GIRL
Not anymore. You've returned to your original form. You're human again, like everyone else. (to the Writer) Please, do something.
THE WRITER
This is a mess you cooked up yourself. Why did you kill him and turn him human again? So he could cry. Be sad. Be happy. Fall in love ...
THE GIRL
I hope you turn into a fly one day, and spend the rest of your life buzzing instead of talking like this.
THE YOUNG MAN
Why was I a fly?
THE WRITER
(mockingly) Because you were in love ...
THE YOUNG MAN
In love? ... Bzzzzz ... Yes, yes, I'm in love with a girl who ...
THE WRITER
It's been born ... It's been born.
THE GIRL
What?
THE WRITER
His misfortunes. His grief and sorrow.
THE GIRL
(exasperated) You ... you ... you're a ...
[Suddenly, a very strange-looking man enters from the back of the stage, carrying a large ledger.]
THE MAN
(coughs) I heard a baby's been born here. Where is it? Where?
[Everyone looks at the Man in astonishment, but the Man calmly opens his ledger on the table.]
THE MAN
So, where's the baby's father?
[He glances at the Writer.]
THE WRITER
No, it's not me.
[The Man glances at the Young Man.]
THE MAN
Then it must be this one. Yes, that's him. Hugging his knees in grief, at his wits' end.
THE GIRL
He's only just been born. That's why he's so dazed.
THE WRITER
And it's all this one's doing.
THE MAN
You mean you're his mother? Madam, you must be a remarkably strong woman to be looking so well after giving birth to a baby like that.
THE GIRL
No.
THE WRITER
Yes.
THE MAN
So, is it yes or no?
THE WRITER
(to the Girl) Go along with it so we can get this over with.
THE GIRL
Go along with what? That I'm his mother?
THE WRITER
Yes. Aren't you? You brought him back to his original form, you ...
THE MAN
My dear sir, what's the answer? I have work to do. A hundred other babies are waiting for me to register their names.
[The Man gives them a suspicious look.]
THE MAN
Tell me, you're not planning to disown this baby, are you? That'll get you into trouble, you know.
THE WRITER
A baby?! You call this a baby? Really, sir! What newborn is this enormous? And wearing clothes like that, looking like that?
THE MAN
Well, sir, I've seen so many strange and astonishing things in this world and over all my years on the job that this doesn't surprise me in the least.
THE WRITER
You mean you accept that this great hulk has just been born?
THE MAN
It's possible, sir. Don't you watch or read the science, culture, and arts news broadcast on television and radio or printed in the newspapers every day? Genetics can work miracles.
THE WRITER
Oh God.
THE MAN
Yes, sir. Perhaps the gentlemen scientists have discovered that it's much more economical for people to be born full-grown and already clothed. Yes ... Nothing surprises me anymore.
THE GIRL
But ...
THE MAN
No buts! Why would you deny this lovely, darling baby of yours?
THE GIRL
The thing is ...
THE MAN
Or maybe ...
THE WRITER
What?
THE MAN
(threateningly) Perhaps you've got something to hide. Then you'll have to answer to the Recording Angels, and ...
THE WRITER
(frightened) No, sir, what kind of talk is that? Please believe me, there's been a misunderstanding.
THE MAN
Oh, so you call it a misunderstanding? You thought that because someone said 'freedom,' you could do whatever the hell you liked? And then deny it afterwards. I need to make a phone call.
THE WRITER
Where to?
THE YOUNG MAN
(shouting) I remember. I remember.
THE MAN
Right, let's see, what's your name?
THE YOUNG MAN
(to the Girl and the Writer) I'm a prince, a prince.
THE MAN
What?
THE GIRL
A prince.
THE YOUNG MAN
I have to go. I have to go and find that beautiful girl.
THE MAN
Hold on, son. Where are you going? Trying to run before you can walk?
THE YOUNG MAN
What's he talking about?
THE GIRL
(exasperated) Sir, we don't have time. We have to go.
THE MAN
Can't be done, my dear. Can't be done. He needs a birth certificate. Don't you want powdered milk and ration coupons for sugar, oil, and rice for him? Don't you want to enroll him in school? Won't he need to sit the university entrance exam and go to college? ...
THE YOUNG MAN
What's all this? I have to go.
THE MAN
And later on, when he's out in society ...
THE GIRL
All right. All right. Issue it. (turning to the Young Man) It's only a few minutes.
THE MAN
Right. The young master's name?
[The Writer and the Girl look at each other.]
THE WRITER
(to the Young Man) What's your name?
THE YOUNG MAN
I don't know ... I don't know. All I know is I'm a prince. A fairy-tale prince.
THE WRITER
Write it down, sir. Prince.
THE MAN
Can't be done, my dear.
THE WRITER
What?
THE MAN
There's a problem with that name.
THE GIRL
(fed up) What does that mean?
THE MAN
It means the name is one of the banned names. You can't give it to your child.
THE GIRL
But he is a prince. He can't have any other name.
THE MAN
What's that supposed to mean, madam? What prince? What fairy tale?
THE GIRL
The fairy tale. The one where a prince goes after ...
THE MAN
There she goes, saying 'prince' again! Don't tell me you've got a satellite dish and watch broadcasts from overseas?
THE WRITER
No, sir. This stuff is from the long winter nights. Under the korsi, grandmothers ...
THE MAN
Where have you been, sir? Those nights are gone, and the korsis have been put away. Everyone has piped gas now. The grandmothers have all gone to nursing homes, too. There are no princes left in any fairy tales.
THE GIRL
Yes, we do.
THE MAN
No, we don't.
THE GIRL
We do we do we do.
THE MAN
I need to make a phone call.
THE WRITER
No, sir, what's all this? All right. Agreed. We don't.
THE GIRL
What are you saying?
THE WRITER
What's wrong with you? Can't you see what he's saying? It's banned.
THE GIRL
(angry) You mean a person can't even choose their own child's name?
THE WRITER
Don't tell me you've started believing you're his mother?
THE GIRL
You told me to go along with it and get it over with. You said I was the reason he'd come into this world and could be happy again. Or sad ... (cries) He's so sad.
THE WRITER
God, what a fix I'm in ...
THE MAN
Sir, aren't you this child's father? Well, say something and get it over with. Don't ruin this child's future. With this name you've chosen for him ...
THE WRITER
What can I say? He was created a prince ... a prince in love who now, as his bad luck would have it ...
THE MAN
You pick a name for him, an ordinary name. After that everything will sort itself out, little by little all this love and romance will go out of his head too ...
THE YOUNG MAN
I have to go. (to the Man) Do you know which way the road leads? Which way can I go to reach my love?
THE MAN
Don't worry, son. Everyone's like you at first. They haven't known hunger yet, so they haven't forgotten love.
THE YOUNG MAN
If I have to, I'm ready to go hungry too and give up everything I have.
[The Young Man goes to the back of the stage and disappears into the darkness. The Man sighs and closes his ledger.]
THE GIRL
So what about his name? Aren't you going to register him?
THE MAN
Not now. He's not fit to be registered. I'll come back in a while. Either he'll have come to his senses, or his name will be on the list of the deceased.
[The Man leaves, and the Writer and the Girl sit down.]
THE GIRL
If I'd known that bringing him here would cause him so much unhappiness ... I'd never have done it.
THE WRITER
If all mothers talked like that, no more babies would ever be born.
THE GIRL
Are you making fun of me?
THE WRITER
Look, all I mean is that he's someone like you and me. Sooner or later he'll find his own way, too.
THE GIRL
No. He's not like you and me. He's a dream prince we brought into our lives. That means we have to decide his fate.
THE WRITER
To our parents, we're all dream princes and princesses. Little by little we grow up and take on a real form, until we become so real that, in the end, even we get sick of ourselves.
THE GIRL
We mustn't allow it. We have to help him as soon as we can.
THE WRITER
How?
THE GIRL
You can. You're a writer.
THE WRITER
Look, I've always had trouble with imagination and imaginary worlds. I ...
THE GIRL
Then how come you call yourself a writer?
THE WRITER
Well, my work has always been rooted in reality.
THE GIRL
Real or imaginary, only you can help him.
[The Girl gets up, looks around at the objects in the room, and with some difficulty drags the old wardrobe to the center.]
THE GIRL
He's looking for the girl he loves, who's in a tower. Well, we'll build it for him.
THE WRITER
But this is just a rickety wardrobe.
THE GIRL
Remember, he's an imaginary prince, and in imagination, all you have to do is accept it. Then it becomes a real tower.
THE WRITER
Like in a fairy tale?
THE GIRL
Like in a fairy tale.
THE WRITER
Then you can play the girl in the tower.
THE GIRL
But I'm real.
THE WRITER
I doubt it.
THE GIRL
What? But I ...
THE WRITER
I'm beginning to understand. When Imagination and I had that argument and he left, you turned up. And then this business with the fairy-tale prince ... What are you and that damned Imagination plotting against me?
THE GIRL
You've gone mad! I'm real. I ...
[The Writer goes up to the Girl, but the Girl pulls back.]
THE GIRL
Surely you don't expect your hand to go right through my body?
THE WRITER
Yes. I wouldn't be surprised if it did. I can no longer tell where imagination ends and reality begins, and you're behind all of this.
THE GIRL
You're wrong.
THE WRITER
Tell me, what's your name?
THE GIRL
Roya.
THE WRITER
Told you.
THE GIRL
But I'm a real dream.
THE WRITER
Yes, I know. A real dream. Or maybe ... God, I'm really losing my mind now.
THE GIRL
No, wait. Please. I'll help you.
THE WRITER
Then go into the tower, and when the prince comes for you, pretend you're that girl. The girl of his dreams.
THE GIRL
If that's how you want it, all right.
[The Girl goes into the wardrobe and the Writer shuts the wardrobe door.]
THE WRITER
If only I could be rid of this nightmare soon.
[The Writer sits at the table and falls asleep. The stage is half-dark. The Prince enters. The Writer can be seen in a faint light. Suddenly the wardrobe glows with a misty light. The Prince approaches it in disbelief.]
THE PRINCE
This ... this is the very tower.
[A man's voice is heard.]
THE MAN
Where to, sir?
[The Young Man backs away and bumps into the Writer, who wakes with a start. The stage lights up. A man is sitting on a chair in front of the tower.]
THE YOUNG MAN
I have to go in.
THE MAN
You can't, sir.
THE YOUNG MAN
I absolutely have to go in.
[The Man pushes the Young Man back.]
THE MAN
I'm telling you, you can't.
THE WRITER
Why can't he?
THE MAN
Because I say so.
THE WRITER
And who might you be?
THE MAN
I'm the guard on this door.
THE WRITER
But we didn't have any guard here ... here ...
THE MAN
What, is this your father's house, that you get to decide whether it has a guard or not?
THE WRITER
What do you mean? This is my story, and I say there never has been a guard here, there isn't one now, and there never will be.
THE MAN
Your story has nothing to do with me. I'm guarding this door, and I'm not allowed to let anyone through.
THE YOUNG MAN
Like that monster.
THE WRITER
Yeah, the monster.
THE YOUNG MAN
Why is there always someone in front of every door who won't let you in?
THE WRITER
But there wasn't supposed to be anyone in front of this door.
THE YOUNG MAN
Then why is there now?
THE WRITER
(goes toward the wardrobe) I told you my imagination isn't very strong. I told you ...... (to the Young Man) What can I do? I can't help it. I've always seen a guard in front of every door. Always so of course this one too ...
THE MAN
It's been that way since the beginning. Every door has had a guard. If people could just march through any door they liked, it'd be chaos.
THE YOUNG MAN
But I've crossed seven seas. I've left scorching deserts and towering mountains behind me, and this door is the last barrier between me and her. How can I get through?
THE MAN
Have you got a card?
THE YOUNG MAN
A card?
THE WRITER
He's a fairy-tale prince. He's imaginary. Why don't you get it?
THE MAN
(laughs) Ha! Everyone with a card thinks they're a fairy-tale prince. And you know what? These cards are issued only to princelings.
THE YOUNG MAN
You mean there are other princes besides me?
THE MAN
As many as you like. This town is full of princes in love, just like Your Excellency. And they've all got cards, too.
THE YOUNG MAN
Then why don't I have a card? Why did you create me without a card?
THE WRITER
None of that matters. A real prince doesn't need a card. He battles every hardship with the strength of his love.
THE MAN
Look how he's getting into the poor kid's head! Sir, what nonsense are you feeding him? He's already off in la-la land.
THE YOUNG MAN
How can I get a card?
THE MAN
Good grief, how thick can you be? With a birth certificate, of course.
THE YOUNG MAN
A birth certificate? But I don't have one.
THE MAN
Then how did you set foot in this dump?
THE YOUNG MAN
With a heart in love.
THE MAN
No.
THE YOUNG MAN
No?
THE MAN
Rip your heart out and throw it away. 'Cause it's no use. Till it's registered somewhere it's no use. You tell him, sir,
THE WRITER
Why don't you get it? He isn't someone like you and me who needs to prove he exists. He belongs to all of us. He's the prince inside all of us that we long for. He's love, he's passion, you understand? You just have to believe in him, and then he's registered everywhere. In my heart, your heart, our heart... Tell me, have you ever been in love?
[The Man leaps to his feet. During the quarrel between the Writer and the Man, the Young Man goes under the table and huddles in a corner]
THE MAN
Shut your mouth, you jerk, I'll be damned if I'm in love
THE WRITER
Why?
THE MAN
You jerk, what, you want to take the bread out of my mouth? From morning to night I slave away to earn a crust of bread to take home to my wife and kids. What have I got to do with these fancy-pants antics?!
THE WRITER
Why, what did I say?
THE MAN
You had no business opening your mouth in the first place. Your dad's in love. Your ma's in love. Your whole clan's in love. However much I keep quiet and grit my teeth, he just won't back off.
THE WRITER
Come on, I only asked a question.
THE MAN
A question! Wait. If you're man enough, wait till I give you your answer.
[The Man chases the Writer and both of them exit the stage. A few moments later a cleaner comes in with a broom and glances around.]
THE CLEANER
Ugh, they've made a filthy mess of this place again.
[He starts cleaning the stage and sings the song "To Ey Pari Kojaei". He finishes his work and sits on the table. He stretches.]
THE CLEANER
God, I'm so happy I could die.
[He lights a cigarette and goes on with his singing. Moments later the sound of the Young Man crying is heard from under the table, and the Cleaner notices him.]
THE CLEANER
You mean I sing that heartbreakingly and don't even know it myself? (He looks under the table.) Hey, who on earth are you? What are you doing down there?
THE YOUNG MAN
I'm crying.
THE CLEANER
That I can see. The why of it I don't know.
THE YOUNG MAN
Over myself. Over a helpless lover who can't do a thing.
THE CLEANER
Aww.
THE YOUNG MAN
That song was so beautiful. Who was singing? He must be looking for his love too, like me.
THE CLEANER
Yeah, dear, love of the stage is killing him.
THE YOUNG MAN
Could he be one of those princes in love the guard was talking about?
THE CLEANER
Nah, man, you're way off. He's a poor soul who goes tra-la-la to please his own heart.
THE YOUNG MAN
Why isn't he singing anymore? Where did he go?
THE CLEANER
He hasn't gone anywhere. He's standing right in front of you. Large as life.
THE YOUNG MAN
You? But you...
THE CLEANER
What, don't we have hearts?
THE YOUNG MAN
But I thought only princes could fall in love.
THE CLEANER
Love doesn't care if you're a prince or a beggar. If you've got the heart for it, you can fall in love.
THE YOUNG MAN
The heart for what?
THE CLEANER
A heart for love. A heart full of warmth. Haven't you heard what they say: If our house has no splendor, it has warmth. Where there is warmth, God's light is there.
THE YOUNG MAN
Someone told me: rip your heart out and throw it away.
THE CLEANER
Pardon me, but what a jackass he must have been. In this world it's only your heart that keeps you alive.
THE YOUNG MAN
I'm a prince. A fairy-tale prince.
THE CLEANER
High five. 'Cause I'm a prince too.
THE YOUNG MAN
Do you have a card?
THE CLEANER
A card for what?
THE YOUNG MAN
To prove you're a prince.
THE CLEANER
To who?
THE YOUNG MAN
To others.
THE CLEANER
Dump the others. I'm sure of myself. What, do you have doubts?
THE YOUNG MAN
I think I'm slowly starting to doubt myself. Am I even real? Do I exist? I don't know.
THE CLEANER
That depends only on you.
THE YOUNG MAN
How?
THE CLEANER
Look at me. On the outside I'm nothing more than a cleaner, but I believe I'm the richest man in the world. A prince with endless treasures.
[He jumps onto the table and starts singing and dancing.]
All the stars of night are mine,
Moonlight from the night sky is in my palace,
The round blue dome of the sky
Over my head, by day and night, is my roof.
The blossoms of springtime are mine,
The carpet of grass, the green garden, are in my palace,
The biggest golden ball in the world,
Up in the summer sky, is mine.
The yellow leaves of autumn are mine,
Shining like gold in my palace,
In winter, in the bitter, biting cold,
The dancing snowflakes are mine.
They're mine, they're mine, they're mine.
THE YOUNG MAN
Tell me, can you get through this door too?
THE CLEANER
Of course, whenever I feel like it and set my mind to it.
THE YOUNG MAN
How? Tell me too. Please. Help me.
THE CLEANER
But this is a big secret that...
THE YOUNG MAN
Please help me, O chivalrous prince.
THE CLEANER
Chivalrous?! Yes, every chivalrous prince has to help others. All right, I'll tell you the secret.
THE YOUNG MAN
What is it?
THE CLEANER
Take off your clothes.
THE YOUNG MAN
What?
THE CLEANER
Your clothes. The whole problem with you is this flashy cape and these eye-catching boots and this hat.
THE YOUNG MAN
You mean..
THE CLEANER
I'll give you clothes that'll hide you from the guard's eyes, so you can go in whenever you like. Like me.
[The Young Man takes off his clothes and puts on the Cleaner's clothes.]
THE YOUNG MAN
You mean nobody can see me now?
[The Cleaner hands him the bucket and broom.]
THE CLEANER
Yes, that's absolutely right. This is a magic outfit. Nobody can see you anymore. Remember, this broom is very important. It always has to be with you.
THE YOUNG MAN
I know. In my fairy tale too, a witch went traveling on her broom.
THE CLEANER
Bravo, that's it
THE YOUNG MAN
Thank you, you really are a chivalrous prince.
THE CLEANER
We princes always have to help each other. Now go, and rest assured you'll succeed.
[The Young Man goes, and the Cleaner puts on the Young Man's clothes]
THE CLEANER
The role of a prince in a prince's clothes. What more could you want? You've finally got your wish and you can play a role. A great role
[The Cleaner goes. Only the front of the stage is lit. A girl wearing a flowered chador over her head is rocking a baby in her arms to sleep. The Young Man comes in, in the Cleaner's clothes, and stares at the girl. The Girl notices him.]
THE GIRL
Hey, who on earth are you?
THE YOUNG MAN
I... I...
THE GIRL
(Indifferent) All right, I get it.
THE YOUNG MAN
So you recognized me?
THE GIRL
Well, yeah.
THE YOUNG MAN
I didn't think anyone would recognize me in these clothes.
THE GIRL
Huh! The things you say! When did you start working?
THE YOUNG MAN
A long time ago. It's been years.
THE GIRL
Years? Aren't you tired of this work?
THE YOUNG MAN
No, never.
THE GIRL
You mean you never thought you could do something better?
THE YOUNG MAN
What could be better than this?
THE GIRL
(She points at his broom.) You mean you like this work?
THE YOUNG MAN
Yes, it's always been my wish to come here.
THE GIRL
(She laughs out loud.) Wish?!
THE YOUNG MAN
(Hurt) Why are you laughing?
THE GIRL
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. But the things you say are so...
THE YOUNG MAN
(Choked up) I went through a lot to get here. I've put scorching, barren deserts behind me.
THE GIRL
(Surprised) Really?
THE YOUNG MAN
Yes.
THE GIRL
(She doesn't know what to say.) Well, I... ugh, damn me... what business is it of mine anyway. Everybody in this world has some wish, after all. All right, for God's sake don't be upset. You know what, come on, since you like doing this work so much, come sweep in here. It's really dirty.
THE YOUNG MAN
Sweep?
THE GIRL
Yeah. To help me?
THE YOUNG MAN
(Happy) Okay.
[The Young Man tries to sweep but goes about it very clumsily. The Girl rocks the baby in her arms, looks at the Young Man hopelessly and shakes her head.]
THE GIRL
Looks like you don't really know your job that well.
THE YOUNG MAN
No, otherwise I'd have succeeded by now.
THE GIRL
That's all right. One day you'll succeed and get your wish (to herself) and become the world's greatest broom-pusher.
THE YOUNG MAN
I hope so.
THE GIRL
It's really good that you're here.
THE YOUNG MAN
Really?
THE GIRL
Yeah, 'cause I was getting fed up with being alone.
THE YOUNG MAN
Alone?!
THE GIRL
Yeah, alone. All the time you've got to work like a mule and slave away.
THE YOUNG MAN
Haven't you ever seen any prince?
THE GIRL
What prince? What for? As if princes had nothing better to do than come here.
THE YOUNG MAN
But.
THE GIRL
Don't tell me you're trying to say you're a prince?
THE YOUNG MAN
Yes.
THE GIRL
Come off it.
THE YOUNG MAN
What, don't we have hearts?
THE GIRL
A prince!! Looks like you read a lot of fairy tales.
THE YOUNG MAN
I'm stuck in my own fairy tale.
THE GIRL
Everyone has their own fairy tale. What's your fairy tale?
THE YOUNG MAN
I was looking for the girl I love.
THE GIRL
(With interest) So...
THE YOUNG MAN
But I couldn't find her.
THE GIRL
Why?
THE YOUNG MAN
Because there was a huge monster in my way. Closed doors. Barred windows.
THE GIRL
Well, what about the girl? Didn't you want each other?
THE YOUNG MAN
Each other? I don't know. I've never seen her.
THE GIRL
What? Then how did you fall in love with her?
THE YOUNG MAN
She's beautiful. She's pure, and she's waiting for someone to save her.
THE GIRL
Aha, one of those girls whose face neither sun nor moon has ever seen.
THE YOUNG MAN
She's as warm as the sun and as lovely as the moonlight.
THE GIRL
How do you know?
THE YOUNG MAN
I know.
THE GIRL
But you said you've never seen her.
THE YOUNG MAN
Many nights I've seen her in my dreams.
THE GIRL
Pah! Dreams?!
THE YOUNG MAN
Yes, is there anything wrong with that?
THE GIRL
Yes. What's wrong with it is that it's a dream. Pardon me, but you'd have to be a real idiot to spend a lifetime chasing someone whose face you've only seen in a dream.
THE YOUNG MAN
What do you mean?
THE GIRL
I mean wake up. Anyway, who's to say this girl nobody's ever seen is as pretty as you say? Maybe she's one of those ugly, hideous girls who's hidden herself away for fear of her looks.
THE YOUNG MAN
No, it mustn't be like that.
THE GIRL
Why not?
THE YOUNG MAN
I've been through so many hardships for her, and now that I've managed to get into the tower. No, it mustn't turn out like that.
THE GIRL
Ha! What's this tower, anyway? There are a hundred other towers like this in this city now. And let me tell you, so you don't get your hopes up too high: the girls in this tower are so high-class they won't even look at you.
THE YOUNG MAN
But I'm a prince.
THE GIRL
If you're a prince, then I'm a princess.
THE YOUNG MAN
The one I'm looking for is imprisoned in a tower.
THE GIRL
No, dear. Then don't look for her here. The girls in this tower each have a latest-model car to drive, and every day they go out and have a good time. You don't need to feel sorry for them.
THE YOUNG MAN
You mean no girl is imprisoned in this tower?
THE GIRL
Yes, there is. Just one.
THE YOUNG MAN
Do you know her?
THE GIRL
Yeah, but let me tell you, she's not right for you.
THE YOUNG MAN
Why?
THE GIRL
Because she's a poor wretch too. Like you.
THE YOUNG MAN
Why a poor wretch?
THE GIRL
Because she's alone. Because her youth is wasting away in one piddling little room of this big tower. Because every day, from morning to night, she works and slaves away.
THE YOUNG MAN
What work?
THE GIRL
How should I know. Sweeping the house, washing the dishes, shopping, lunch, this crap, that crap... If her dad comes home at noon and lunch isn't ready, he hits the roof. And on top of that, there's a baby left on her hands.
THE YOUNG MAN
She has a baby?
THE GIRL
No. It's her little brother. Her mother, God rest her soul, died in childbirth. Now she has to look after him
THE YOUNG MAN
That's very hard.
THE GIRL
Well, there you go. That's this poor girl's lot, that's all. But let me tell you, she's not an idiot like you, chasing after some imaginary prince.
THE YOUNG MAN
But in the fairy tale...
THE GIRL
Yeah, in the fairy tale there's always a prince who saves the poor girl. But this isn't a fairy tale. It's life. It's real.
THE YOUNG MAN
Do you see that girl?
THE GIRL
Yeah, every day.
THE YOUNG MAN
Where?
THE GIRL
Look, today you've wasted a lot of my time. All my chores are still waiting.
THE YOUNG MAN
Please help me.
THE GIRL
Okay. But first you have to help me.
THE YOUNG MAN
Help? What help?
THE GIRL
Here, take this baby and rock him till he falls asleep. He hasn't shut his eyes since last night. He's run me ragged.
[The Girl puts the baby in the Young Man's arms. The baby cries. Flustered, the Young Man rocks the baby. The Girl starts tidying up the house]
THE YOUNG MAN
How long have you been here?
THE GIRL
For as long as I can remember. My dad works here, see. But I've so wanted to get away from here.
THE YOUNG MAN
To where?
THE GIRL
Somewhere nice. I'm sick of this tower. A little house with a yard and a pretty little garden (jokingly) and a prince to come and rescue me from here.
THE YOUNG MAN
What a dream!
[Suddenly the baby wets himself and the Young Man.]
THE YOUNG MAN
What happened?
THE GIRL
(She laughs.) Sorry. He didn't know you were a prince.
THE YOUNG MAN
What do I do with him now?
THE GIRL
You have to change him, or else his legs will get sore, my lord.
THE YOUNG MAN
What a horrible smell!
THE GIRL
Take a little sniff. 'Cause it might make you wake up. Careful. Don't let him catch cold.
[The Girl gives the Young Man a cloth diaper; the Young Man changes the baby. The Girl gets milk ready for him.]
THE GIRL
Ah, O chivalrous prince, be sure he burps, lest he suffer a bellyache.
THE YOUNG MAN
You'd better do this yourself. I can't.
THE GIRL
But a prince never goes back on his word.
THE YOUNG MAN
What word?
THE GIRL
Didn't you say you'd help me?
THE YOUNG MAN
Yes... but...
THE GIRL
Don't tell me you're going to say this is harder than crossing burning, barren deserts.
THE YOUNG MAN
But I...
[Suddenly the sound of a shout makes the Girl jump (Hey, girl...)]
THE GIRL
Oh no, I'm done for. I've still got all my chores to do, and I still haven't gone out for the household shopping. And lunch isn't ready yet either. I have to go.
THE YOUNG MAN
Where?
THE GIRL
I have to buy bread for lunch
THE YOUNG MAN
What do I do?
THE GIRL
Watch the baby. I'll be back soon.
THE YOUNG MAN
But what about that girl?
THE GIRL
Girl...? Oh, okay, when I get back.
[The Girl leaves in a hurry. The Young Man looks around him a little. He gives the baby his milk and puts the baby to sleep. Then he starts tidying up the house and thinks to himself.]
THE YOUNG MAN
So I've finally found her. That girl in the tower? A girl who's alone and whose youth is going to waste. Works every day from morning till night. Washes the dishes. Sweeps... Shopping, lunch... If her dad... She's got a little brother too.
[He goes to the baby and picks him up.]
THE YOUNG MAN
This is really hard for a girl on her own, as hard as crossing barren wastelands...
[The Young Man sits down and rocks the baby. Then they both fall asleep. A few moments later the Girl comes in with a shopping basket. She looks in surprise at the house, which has been tidied up.]
THE GIRL
Oh, I can't believe it.
[She goes to the Young Man, who is asleep. She is about to take the baby from his arms when the Young Man wakes up.]
THE YOUNG MAN
You're back?
THE GIRL
Yes. (laughs) Well done. He's asleep. You have no idea how much you've helped me.
THE YOUNG MAN
Really?
THE GIRL
Yes. You know what? I'm sure of one thing.
THE YOUNG MAN
Of what?
THE GIRL
That you're not a prince.
THE YOUNG MAN
How come?
THE GIRL
Because no prince has what it takes to look after a baby this well.
THE YOUNG MAN
I'd like to help you again. Why are you looking at me like that?
THE GIRL
You know, nobody's ever been this kind to me before. Could it be that you really are a prince?
THE YOUNG MAN
I don't feel that way anymore.
THE GIRL
But you behave like a prince. Dignified, kind...
THE YOUNG MAN
(laughs) No, I don't feel that way anymore.
THE GIRL
I know, it must be because of what I said...
THE YOUNG MAN
Yes, what you said affected me a lot.
THE GIRL
Believe me, I didn't mean to upset you.
THE YOUNG MAN
What does it matter now?
THE GIRL
About that girl in the tower... I have to say that...
THE YOUNG MAN
You don't need to say anything... I've figured it all out myself.
THE GIRL
(cries) I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make fun of you.
THE YOUNG MAN
Why are you crying? Well, you really don't need a prince here. You want someone to help you. But the whole time I was wasting your time like a pushy idiot.
THE GIRL
You mean...
THE YOUNG MAN
I was looking for the girl I love, who's in a tower, and now I've found her. I just don't know if she's willing to come with me or not.
THE GIRL
But I...
THE YOUNG MAN
Believe me, I won't play the fool anymore. I'll never again say a word about princes and monsters and that nonsense. We'll go together and build our dreams, a little house with a pretty garden. Please accept me.
THE GIRL
It's like I'm dreaming.
THE YOUNG MAN
This is a dream that becomes real if you want it to.
[The Girl stands up.]
THE YOUNG MAN
You want to go?
THE GIRL
I have to go talk to my dad. If I'm going to come with you, he has to know too.
THE YOUNG MAN
By the way, what's your name?
THE GIRL
Arezoo... My dad has to see you. Will you stay for lunch with us?
THE YOUNG MAN
Of course.
THE GIRL
Then stay. I'll be back soon.
[The Girl leaves.]
THE YOUNG MAN
I'll stay. Forever. For as long as you want, my Arezoo.
[The stage goes dark. It is the Writer's room again; the Writer's head is on the table and he has fallen asleep. The stage lights up, and a moment later the Writer wakes with a start and looks around him.]
THE WRITER
Oh God, what a nightmare! (pause) A nightmare? But it was so real. I don't know, I don't know, I'm totally confused. It's like I've lost the boundary between reality and imagination. (looks behind him) Oh no, was this wardrobe here? No. (slaps his own face) Maybe I'm still asleep. Come on, come on, wake up. What did you do? There was a prince. No, there was a fly.... Ugh, I'm getting stupid. What was it?.... There was a prince who had turned into a fly, and that girl killed the fly.... That girl... that girl... Come to think of it, where is that girl? What if she was part of that imaginary world too. I sent her to that imaginary tower to play the part of the girl the prince loves. (gets up quickly) What if she's gone off to the land of dreams with the prince too.... Yes, her name was Roya. But she said she was real. Oh my God, a person might come across a real dream only once in their life. What if I've missed that chance?
[He goes to the wardrobe and is about to open its door when suddenly the Girl opens the door from inside the wardrobe and the door hits the Writer in the face. The Girl sneezes loudly.]
THE GIRL
(angry) You jerk! You made a fool of me?
[The Writer, holding his nose, looks at the Girl happily.]
THE WRITER
So you...
THE GIRL
I didn't see any prince come in through this door.
THE WRITER
Thank God.
THE GIRL
I told you I was real, but you didn't believe me.
THE WRITER
Now I believe it.
THE GIRL
What's happened to your nose?
THE WRITER
It sustained a blow in a real accident.
THE GIRL
So where's the prince?
THE WRITER
I don't know where he went. When I came, he wasn't there.
THE GIRL
What if something's happened to him again?
THE WRITER
Look, don't start again. Please. From now on think about what's real. Only what's real. About yourself, about me... Tell me, what are you going to do from now on?
[The Girl looks for her suitcase. She finds it and goes behind the wardrobe.]
THE GIRL
Maybe I'll go back to my old job.
THE WRITER
Your old job?
[The Girl comes out from behind the wardrobe. She has two beautiful white wings on her back, which she is trying to fasten in place, but she can't, and she struggles with them.]
THE WRITER
You have wings??!!
THE GIRL
Are they pretty?
THE WRITER
They're very beautiful... but... people don't have wings.
THE GIRL
Well, I'm Roya. Did you forget?
THE WRITER
So you really are a dream?
THE GIRL
No, not the kind whose wings get soaked in the rain and can't fly.
THE WRITER
Then what?
[Upset, the Girl bangs the wings down on the floor]
THE GIRL
I couldn't fly from the start anyway.
THE WRITER
Well, that's because you're real.
THE GIRL
Yeah, and that's my whole problem. If I could be a dream...
THE WRITER
A real one.
THE GIRL
No. Reality never gets along with a dream. It makes it sad. It ruins it. You understand? If I could have been a dream right to the end, just a dream, that poor prince would have gotten his wish by now and you'd be writing your story.
THE WRITER
Maybe it wasn't all your fault either. Maybe if I could have gotten a little away from this real world too, I could have finished the story well, but reality has always cast its shadow over my imagination. Where do you think that registry officer came from? From this sick mind of mine...
THE GIRL
So we're among the most untalented people in our profession. (points at the Writer.) A writer who wants to be the best in his dreams.
THE WRITER
And a dream that's stuck in reality.
[They both laugh.]
THE WRITER
What a situation! How about we switch places?
THE GIRL
Oh no. I'm leaving right now. I'm afraid things will get worse than they are.
THE WRITER
(serious) No, don't go... please.
[The Girl looks at the Writer questioningly.]
THE WRITER
I don't know what I'd do without a dream anymore.
THE GIRL
Are you itching for trouble? I'm only a nuisance to you, you lunatic. You can write without me too.
THE WRITER
Yes, but about what? I can't sit in this prison they've made for me anymore and wait for an interesting subject. Or listen to my stomach rumbling and forget about love. No, I can't anymore. Now I understand why Imagination couldn't last beside me under this rubble of everyday, never-ending realities. But you did it. You brought the prince here and made me help him reach his love.
THE GIRL
But we didn't succeed.
THE WRITER
It doesn't matter. That doesn't matter at all. What matters is the feeling that's stayed in me. You know, I feel that I can be a prince too, and fall in love like him and give up everything for my love.
[The Girl picks up the wings and straps them onto the Writer's back.]
THE GIRL
I think these are more useful to you.
[The Girl straps the wings onto the Writer's back. The Writer sits down at the table, takes the pen in his hand and starts writing. The Girl slowly moves away from him and goes off into the darkness. A moment later the wardrobe door opens and the Young Man, in the Cleaner's clothes, and the Girl, wearing a flowered chador, come out of it. The Writer turns toward them and looks at them in surprise.]
THE WRITER
I can't believe it. The dream prince!
[The Girl looks at the Young Man in surprise.]
THE YOUNG MAN
Don't talk like that. My wife might get scared.
THE WRITER
Wife? So you succeeded.
THE YOUNG MAN
Yes. But she doesn't know I'm a prince.
THE WRITER
Why?
THE YOUNG MAN
Well, because I'm not a prince anymore. I'm a real human being. Like everyone else. Like you... no, not like you.
THE WRITER
Why not?
THE YOUNG MAN
Well, you've got wings.
THE WRITER
These are a gift.
THE YOUNG MAN
You mean you can't fly with them?
THE WRITER
Yes, I can. But only to the land of dreams. What about you? What have you done to yourself? What did you do with those beautiful clothes and boots of yours?
THE YOUNG MAN
I met someone along the way. A real human being. He gave me these clothes and said these clothes would hide me from everyone's eyes and I'd be able to get into the tower.
THE WRITER
Yes. He was a real human being, all right. Because he conned you and took those beautiful clothes off you and put these clothes on you.
THE YOUNG MAN
But these clothes really did the trick, and I managed to get into the tower. See?
THE WRITER
Yes, but how?
THE YOUNG MAN
Very simple. In these clothes I turned into an ordinary human being. So plain and ordinary that nobody paid me any attention. A simple cleaner... and all the problems were cleared out of my way and I managed to find the girl I love.
THE WRITER
You mean she's the princess in the tower?
THE YOUNG MAN
(laughs) No, she's an ordinary girl. Like me. And I'm no longer looking for any princess who has stayed in a tower for years and hasn't been able to do anything for herself.
THE WRITER
So all my efforts were for nothing?
THE YOUNG MAN
No, on the contrary. It was you who introduced me to the real world. A world where there's no sign of burning deserts and salt and demons and fairies. Sorrows and joys in it are a different kind. People make them themselves, and that's wonderful.
THE WRITER
But don't you think it's very hard to bear this world without a dream... Roya... Roya... where did she go?
THE YOUNG MAN
Maybe she thought she was a nuisance to you.
THE WRITER
(goes toward the door) But I can't live without her anymore.
THE YOUNG MAN
You'd better not go with those wings. Because people might think you're crazy.
THE WRITER
Crazy?
[The Young Man helps the Writer unfasten his wings.]
THE YOUNG MAN
And don't try to imitate princes in love either, because you might turn into a fly.
THE WRITER
No, rest assured, and thank you.
THE YOUNG MAN
Same here.
[The Writer leaves. The Young Man sits down at the table and starts writing, and the Girl goes toward the window]
THE GIRL
Where did he go?
THE YOUNG MAN
After his dream, like us.
THE GIRL
Then why did he leave his wings behind?
THE YOUNG MAN
Because he didn't need them anymore.
THE GIRL
Look. He's going off with a girl who's gotten soaked in the rain. In the rain. From here it looks like a dream.
THE YOUNG MAN
But they're real.
(The Young Man reads what he has written)
She wipes, with the tatters of Majnun's tent,
the dust of the desert from her shoes.
[The Girl comes and stands over the Young Man and snatches the paper from him.]
THE GIRL
In her own space, like the scent of childhood, she continually awakens innocent memories. She is like a sweet folk song.
She loves with sincerity
the particles of life
the particles of earth
the sorrows of humankind
the pure sorrows
She loves with sincerity a village garden lane
a tree
a dish of ice cream
a clothesline
My beloved is a simple human being.
[Imagination enters, but nobody notices him. The Girl looks at the Young Man, delighted.]
THE GIRL
Did you write these for me?
[The Young Man bows and they both laugh together. The Girl goes toward the Young Man. Imagination picks up the wings and, as he goes out, switches off the light. We hear the Girl's voice in the darkness.]
THE GIRL
Oh, prince, oh, dreamlike beloved,
every midnight I dreamed that you would come.
The End
[Owrang Weekly note: the two lines "Oh, prince, oh, dreamlike beloved, / every midnight I dreamed that you would come" are from the poem "Roya" (Dream) in the collection "Divar" (The Wall), and the poem the Young Man writes and the Girl reads is from "Ma'shuq-e man" (My Beloved) in the collection "Tavallodi digar" (Another Birth), both by Forough Farrokhzad. In the play the line reads "the dust of the desert"; in Forough's poem it is "the dust of the street" (first edition of Tavallodi digar, Morvarid, 1963, p. 71).]