Roy Ernest Ballard


By Mount Ybba Moghrair - Poem by Roy Ernest Ballard

Inflaming at the end of night,
a sudden blaze of hostile light,
the sun comes darting on the tents,
the savage spires, the wild ascents
and barren lands where Moghrair stands.

No morning call of bird nor dove
foretells the flight of stars above;
the distant mountains fade and quiver,
they ripple on a molten river
and morning comes with beating drums.

A dry wind hurries down the waste;
it chokes the breath, it shrivels taste,
the earth is cracked, the body spent;
a fiery light pours through the tent
and all thoughts yearn the night's return.

Can dusk be far? The air turns cool.
The cold moon rises from a pool
of airy deeps with purple trails
of starry gowns and lacey veils
then like a bride comes eventide.`

The herder, weary of the sun,
gives thanks to God the day is done.
He goes to find the common fire,
a cup, a song, the heart's desire,
refreshing rest and talk of rain.
Dawn brings the deadly rays again.

Topic(s) of this poem: desert, moon, night, sun, travel


Poet's Notes about The Poem

See: Travels in Arabia Deserta by Charles Montague Doughty (1843-1926)

Comments about By Mount Ybba Moghrair by Roy Ernest Ballard

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags


Poem Submitted: Monday, January 11, 2016

Poem Edited: Monday, January 11, 2016


[Report Error]