Pharaos Poem by Pierre Rausch

A spining harp won't come closest
On street march in the glancing Pharaoes
At the Nile, sit next to papyrus
At port sets in the ship to Tyrus
No coach of Elephant rides it to Byblos
As there lies the fruit to mother
This is a rose, this is a rose
Pharaohs
A third harp won't come closest
On chariot march in the reigning Pharaoes
At port on course to Tyrus
Copper, zync or bronzen myrrh
Hasn't shiften to tusk Big Sur
And coach byblos to trappen tide
This is a rose, this is a rose
Pharaohs
A second harphes don't come closer
Tide hanging ivory and silver
Feathers of gold, feathers of myrrh
As jolly garden next to papyrr
At port on course to Byblos
At ship on course to Cyprus
That lies there in the bashing bones
This is a rose, this is a rose
That lies there in the bashing bones