It is the desert, where the morning cries farewell to treacherous night; willingly fleeing as dunes set alight!
Day has arrived oh! … and so the harsh sun … who only disappears when day has done.
So friendly and mild at first in the morn. With its temper soft, and kind without scorn. But when it sees clearly the vast empty sands, it flares up in rage with fiery, flaming hands.
Burning on thorns reluctantly growing like ungrateful creatures to the sun’s overflowing: A whole night has passed and naught has been done!