A thousand days
the pebbles have scuttled
under the great pads of my camels.

A thousands days
like bite of sour apples
have been bitter with desire in my mouth.

A thousand days
of cramped legs flecked
with green slobber of dromedaries.

At the crest of the road
that transfixes the sun
she awaits
me lean with desire
with muscles tightened
by these thousand days
pallid with dust
sinewy
naked before her.

Padding lunge of a camel's stride
over the flint-strewn hills. A man sings:

I have heard men sing songs
of how in scarlet pools
in the west in purpurate mist
that bursts from the sun trodden
like a grape under the feet of darkness
a woman with great breasts
thighs white like wintry mountains
bathes her nakedness.

I have lain biting my cheeks
many nights with ears murmurous
with the songs of these strange men.
My arms have stung as if burned
by the touch of red ants with anguish
to circle strokingly
her bulging smooth body.
My blood has soured to gall.
The ten toes of my feet are hard
as buzzards' claws from the stones
of roads, from clambering
cold rockfaces of hills.
For uncountable days' journeys
jouncing on the humps of camels
iron horizons have swayed
like the rail of a ship at sea
mountains have tossed like wine
shaken hard in a wine cup.

I have heard men sing songs
of the scarlet pools of the sunset.

Two men, bundled pyramids of brown
abreast, bow to the long slouch
of their slowstriding camels.
Shrilly the yellow man sings:

In the courts of Han
green fowls with carmine tails
peck at the yellow grain
court ladies scatter
with tiny ivory hands,
the tails of the fowls
droop with multiple elegance
over the wan blue stones
as the hands of courtladies
droop on the goldstiffened silk
of their angular flower-embroidered dresses.

In the courts of Han
little hairy dogs
are taught to bark twice
at the mention of the name of Confucius.

The twittering of the women