Behold, I am a spinner, No threads nor shuttles need Where dust and winds of desert Supply my magic speed. I circle in the valley My comrades on each hand, Together we go swirling Across the somber sand. Then swiftly I unravel My veil of dusky hue And twist and twirl and spiral Into the misty blue. But I, the subtle spinner, Have spent my strength in vain; The sky I seek for lover Repulses me in rain. Not for me the passion Of a red star's rust, My mother earth receives me When dust returns to dust. |