∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
Love hit him like a dust storm lashes upon,
The traveler abandoned by his caravan
In the middle of the Sahara desert.
His love is like the golden yellow sands,
That dance and tremble in his sight –
Beautiful, yet distant and ominous;
Thirsty for love he drudges on.
Will he ever taste the waters of his lovely oasis?