Dreamt the dreamings of kings
Till he died
In his pride
To the wide,
wide,
world.
SO THE DREAM WAS JEHÂN'S!
And he dreamt he was king
Till he died
In his pride
To the wide,
wide,
world.
The rhythmic background broke with the singing voice into troubled triplets, and the King's slack hands gripped in on themselves. Was he listening?
Now the tale of the Kings who have died
In their pride
Is many, and many beside.
But the dream is the same,
So it came----
The pliant forefinger's whirling gave out a continuous boom like distant thunder amongst hills. Deena's drum throbbed a réveillé, the rebeck thrilled like a cicala--
TO KUMÂN