IN THE KASBAH OF MARRAKESH

He:
Dust in the Kasbah of Marrakesh,
oudour of spices and heat,
one hundred peppermint teas,
merchants offer their golden lies,
and then my heart was struck by her eyes,
raven black eyes
burning in a veiled face.
She took my hands
read from the landscape of palms:

She:
The trees are yearning for rain.
Their roots are sucking in vain.
Your heart is thirsty like a tree.
Your hand is an open book for me.

The trees are yearning for rain.
They shall be released from their pain.
I see the turn of your fate
as soon as you walk out of Ahmar Gate.

He:
And then with her hand full of mystical signs
she drew me through
the souks in bewildering lines.
As we passed mighty Ahmar Gate
she took off her veil,
her lips were bright green, her face was pale.

Both:
Rain in the Kasbah of Marrakesh,
fragrance of jasmine and grass.
We drank a peppermint tea,
merchants covered their heaps of spice.
I only cared for the spark in his/her eyes.

She:
Heavenly blue eyes lights in the Kasbah.
He took my hand
and all I had prophesied came truly true.


© by Ingo Höricht u. Bernd F. Gruschwitz

Aus dem Album "Mondschatten" von Mellow Melange