The desert is a capricious lady
I am with her she drives men crazy
Travelling in the deepth sands
All i hear is the animals whinnying
Desert so huge, and the horizon so distant
Make a person feel small, and all remain silent
Wind never stopped, impressed by the forces elements
Feel lonely more nostalgia, although still in the heart of Africa
Sahara is her name, atheist she can be
She has raven her and cold golden eye
I try to be her friend, instead i receive sand in my eyes
She is mean to make my camel slow down by nights
Carry bags at the salt of dried up lakes.
So desperate and hopelessly lost in her empire
Sighting on a star that indicate an oasis location
More interesting to observe the caravan
Without forgetting to listen to the mystical winds
The winds of the Sahara desert that carries all souls
Groan of a camel is a signal of a raid
when i am in her caravan I see Mr Phantom
Thus when i hear all, everything that has soul
Only in the desert caravan all souls speaks loud
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem