“Yes,” his mother went on as she smoothed his hair back from his brow. “At first you will be very much afraid, but you must try to remember there is nothing really to fear. Remember, it is only the beating of our own hearts that makes us tremble.”
The young camel laughed a little in contempt at the idea of being afraid of anything at all, and then he began to draw music from his harp. No one moved, nothing stirred except the mules’ tails slowly waving in the tall grass, but his mother began to cry silently while he sang.
The Youngest Camel’s Song
When I am fourteen I shall wear tassels on my cheeks,
And I shall dance for the Shah and the Lamas and the Raj
With a tambourine tied to my tail.
When they sprinkle coins before me and wash my hoofs in milk,
I shall return to you rich from their palaces,
Running fast as a king deer to you with jewels in his antlers.
I shall know you at once, no matter how many years have passed over,