1. The lamps of Nawar cast their glow
And pull the nomads to assembly

2. Their morning departures continue
From month to month journeying on

3. The least of her camps for those who seek them
Is for the guide, five nights on rugged ground

4. And if I sleep, the memory of her roams
Till it wakes the eyes for travel again

5. The thought of her stirs me when recalled—
The south wind, bearing that sweet pain

6. As though her saddlebags mingled with mine
By dawn endowed with knowing and joy

7. As though her mounts were hobbled with mine,
Swaying us like bliss or foreboding dread

8. Or a she-camel whose pasture was withered,
Striding over stony ground and reddish sand

9. As though curved snakes suspended
Bent back their slenderness into amber air

10. For the lopsided one from her saddlebags
And for the roamer, a tawny viper of waste

11. And for Suleiman whose abode she made
The meadows, from all alarm made free

12. The exiles found refuge when assured
Of safety from Rattabel and Sheher

13. Or every camp as though in it
Were stillness, though its ships sailed on

14. Or every true comrade, when wanted,
Whose wind winnowed me from afar