To the walls of Babylon I float
In the summer heat of centuries
I drift to the graves of kings,
Who ruled from thrones of lapis lazuli,
In the shadow of hanging gardens
Their voices, down long corridors, echoed,
With the scent of frankincense and myrrh
This blue glazed palace, where caravans strayed,
To quench their thirst neath burning skies,
Now, distant memories, in sun-baked rubble
Yet Ishtar rises, sweet desert nymph,
Like a vision, o'er her broken walls
Her song, like a rainbow mist,
Over endless plains, calling,
In the depths of my dreams.
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