I am a lone Bedouin and how strange this Nomadic race?
The legend says of Pharaoh but I have never seen them.
I see through my tattered tent the far away red star in altitude
And it must be Aldebaran.
I take out the old lute from my knapsack and pluck the strings.
My ration is poor and I dream of an Oasis nearby and I hear the sad murmur of my companion camel and its boredom.
We sing together the oldest bitter song.
' Where we have come from and where do we go? '
*[You have made me for yourself, and my heart is restless until it rests in you.]
-St.Augustine
Great atmosphere in this one. Loneliness raised to the level of an art form. Excellent, Nimal. Always your friend, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I hear the music of the Duduc playing as I read this remarkable poem with it's exquisite imagery and gentle melancholy. Very moving. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥