Oh, what must it be like to live on a star?
Do your soles sink into wool,
or will they be scraped by the roughness of the ground?

Is the star held up by pillars?
Is it a comfortable palace?
Oh, what I wouldn’t give to move there,
for just one day. To see women walking
in warm attire,
watched over by proud cherubim.

In rivers of fire,
banners will gleam
of some unknown barbarian tribe.

At the well,
the levers will bow, and,
in the gold within,
the bucket will settle with the sound of the heartbeats
of those who, in time, will rust...

Metal horses will creak in their gallop,
and from their saddles,
emirs will slip into the shadow
of the palms of gods.