Near towering Tonguehill Glacier
Tómas's Meadow lies,
the only green oasis
under the desert skies.
Here my dear friend's horses
hurried once in their need;
never again will he graze them
on his grassy upland mead.
Wide is the Dancing Desert,
distant the weeping sea.
Where sands are sweeping northward
my soul is hurrying me.
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