Are they yet out of sight as far as I have come from the Sahyad.
So far that the Waters in the offing.
Far from the eyes at Aden ; petite port I reach.
Men of agrarian arms take the booty of Aluban and Mur; in place give a camel for the Waters.
Are they still chasing or have they left concern; the men of Mukrab for I have made girls of same father mine.
The sea calm with the water warm that is bestowing steam.
The waves don't want to mess with Athtar it seems.
The jocund but plain background of blue resisting the dark forces of nature.
Resist something I could have not done when witnessing San'a, yes Yar'a was my soulmate and San'a was her sis' but how could I resist the very incarnation of the blue moon bipedal.
An unharmful forty winks and it seemed so till the earth had a heavy breath.
Till the cotton fields of heaven outgrew Almaqah himself.
Droplets piercing the sea to carve out the bruises as waves, the waves that intended to send me to the unexplored ocean floor.
The little nap that led to a deep slumber cause I crashed with something I can't 'member.
Al-Habash was where I intended to move but it is not where I ended upon.
Washed upon a shore was I where fleets were forced 'gainst the oceans' yanks; Guarded by men in vast robes.
Amongst the fleet I searched for my boat or as I see it sacks of Aluban and Mur.
*
Where have I intruded, a welcoming land, seems to be a convention where the Sabeans were not invited.
Where am I? With nicety is impossible to say but a guess hints me somewhere in Hindustan.
Enquired with a man to whom the scarab was sacred ; tales of whom have I heard of love and hatred.
To my knowledge it arrived; seems to be a conjunction of wizards wise from the wisest lands to witness the flight of The Flying Machine.
Formed a fellowship with men from Cheras, Khmer and Persia ; and moved towards the ultimate destination short stepped quick feet.
Yonks and yonks it might have felt if I was the only soul.
For I was with jingoistic men who jeer 'bout the other worldly claims.
Curiosity ignited in my jejune mind, could the wizards of Hind truly conquered the power of gods.
The golden land before my eyes, beneath the blue and above the green,
Waters that sequester the lands, Waters where the lotus' bloom, where songs of songbirds are heard and animals roam without being fear'd.
Along the mats of local traders, among the hurdles of high men; till we reach the guilded gates that are truly Bohemian.
*
Guards with armours unpiercible and spears that'll pierce in a jiffy.
I start sweating high if they know of me, an ordinary villatic of Saba.
Would my head be severed, would I be the buzzards' meal, would I be boiled in metallic vessels or would I be a sacrifice for the flying machine.
The guards stare as I gulp some of my fear, running for life from my own and killed in another land.
