1. You see the tracks of caravans on the page
Like ants marching slowly in a line

2. As if they threw carpets amidst the shallows
A rolling dune of elegant shape

3. The yellow of the desert, a brook’s branch
Swarmed by quick rivulets and streams

4. And white like tongues they curve and bend
As if their graceful necks they arch and bend

5. They know my weapons, and then they fled
When the ignoble made weak excuses

6. Turning away hastily the enemy withdrew
Repelled by my strong and fierce refusal

7. And gently we walked through the path’s groove
As if its smooth slope a carpet weaved