Years have fallen in disuse after dark winds of October
Forget to chill
My hands grew pale, adhering to the rules named season
Who shall now believe the alphabets of moon?
Shining dumb in my ancient bed for so many years!
I pat them a little and touching their chins, sing lullaby
And a little adoringly say
“You lazy naughty beings
Why lead me to deserts through ocean, vast, dumb and shiny
And I cannot touch the camels!”
None answers as the midnight rushes to another little dawn
And their sleeping eyes still speechless, looking at me
I knew the girls with the pitchers on their hips
Walk miles through deserts for water
I know the camels turn cold in the sugar-chilled desert nights!
Till from one tent the gypsies
Run wild with their guitars, shouting at the dark moon
Break the myth of sands and sand turns to water!