Eznarza:
We shall hear the sand again, whispering low to the dawn wind.
King:
We shall hear the nomads stirring in their camps far off because it is dawn.
Eznarza:
The jackals will patter past us slipping back to the hills.
King:
When at evening the sun is set we shall weep for no day that is gone.
Eznarza:
I will raise up my head of a night time against the sky, and the old, old, unbought stars shall twinkle through my hair, and we shall not envy any of the diademmed queens of the world.