Still sometimes the desert winds halt here,
And lay tearfully the wreaths of silence.
Oft when sun smiles, the vanquished sands retreat
And offer glimpses of the lost grandeur.
...
I heard the call, when in bed,
I ran, with a heavy breath, outside,
To see the wonder unfold
My eyes were witnesses to these....
...
Those shivering hands needed warmth.
Was I rude when I showed him the pyre? ?
After all, the sparkly forms drawn by the fire
Were but fuelled by memories, warm and soothing.
...