Can you hear it coming, fast-footed as a jinn?
It blows across Egypt's blank canvas of land, Gold specks in the azure, nomadic grains of sand, A gleaming desert that is called shamsin.
But it is finally tamed by a Persian wise man.
He kneads the grains until the manna appears.
Labdanum petals, jasmine pure and clear; An embrace as gentle as a kiss on the hand.
Passion leaps up, rebellious and bold, But dances arabesques on breezes unseen.
Thus is transformed in Moorish stories we're told, The sun's fiery gaze cooled by mashrebiya screens.