Flow of thy footfalls, in the sweltry sands,
headlong haste, the current of a swift,
on thy gargatuan back thou tarry
magnitude of goods and massive stones.
how humps writh, with food in,
and steps, steady, without fodder,
head on for many months and
the throat, smooth and sleek, calls for
no water for upmteenth days.
thy slastic neck slides to the ground
and like the hood of the snake stands,
how holds man's heads, taken apart,
the soldier, the warrior, the king of the desert,
what a masterpiece of God's art!