See!
The sun.
The setting sun.
A ball of moving light.
A sphere of gold-silver.
Such depths are coming.
The sun in like the solitary angel,
Raised and now immersing:
Into the Arabian Sky’s bowl.

 

Beneath a tent.
A shepherd’s flute will play.
In rapid stream of sighs,
And raptures:
Songs of Allah and His messenger.

 

See!
The sun.
The setting sun.
The sun has vanished.
To rest and sleep.
Between sleeping and waking hours,
A shepherd’s flute will play:
In rapid streams of sighs,
And raptures.

 

 

20th March 2009
Fujairah

 

Geeta Chhabra