A
village was at the end of a mountainy road
Our time
was hard and the water was rare.
Our
mules went on groaning under a heavy load.
Nothing
we had to shelter in that gloomy desert.
A
windy weather struck against our naked chests.
A
wintery day was the coldest day of the year.
Seven
guns stuffed with powder ready to shoot.
Drowse
overcame upon us until we hardly move.
Muffled our heads, we began to nap.
Deserted
place never has been trodden yet.
Morn
shed us a light from a distant gap.
Once
we turned left, a rain flooded the land.
Road
turned slippery and our mules stubborn.
One
of the men shouted as a wolf!
We
are hungry, what do we have to eat?
Dunes
of salt appeared as stacks
and the way turned hard.
No friend
could ask or whatever to do
But
suddenly we saw a shadowy lamp
It is
a village of Gipsy stretched there
We
didn’t know how to call or how to speak
But
we kept silent until their chief came
He
said, "Hallo" and you can take a rest
Their
maidens are beautiful wearing the gold
One
of them has fleshy thighs as a wild deer
Hurrying
emotively as if she was a slumbery soul
A
courteous girl does of a highbred.
A
romantic figure never can be seen.
Soul
would be pleasant to hear her tune.
Three
days and we moved leaving behind our groan.
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