Nubia
By The Stranger.



oh land of gold where eastern promises
lie concealed beneath lost sand and
forgotten words are spoken by the wind
near crooked palms in bone-dry oases

upon twisting roads where only caravans
of silhouettes still travel the echoes
from extinct cities resonate weakly in
the prison of slumbering sand as a psalm

above the canopies of redly reflecting
pyramids in the clear morningsky when
the sun brings a prayer in the shrubs

at last songs are sung in the breath
of the old folk and once more the land
shall whisper over the sahara