Tayba The morning zephyr bears the scent of Tayba A fragrant rose of sweet enchanted savour The friends who lay upon those sacred sands in sleep they entered dreamy meadowlands whereupon they saw the broken one alone who led them to tombs of men unbeknown Hers are the sands that heal us of our woes breathe me! she says, I am a fragrant rose weep O broken one! for you are lost afar cry for a single moment within Tayba O Lord make her my grave and from whence I rise to melt in her sands will be my only prize Bless for ever the dweller of this sacred tomb From his soul spills the sweetest scented perfume Return to index