The sand of the hourglasses
made the desert grow.
Don't say there is silence here,
say rather that you can't hear.

To the camps of Tinduf¹
doesn't travel that rumor of foam
that the wind swayed in the dune
in which I loved you one blue night.

Your dromedary's skin
shelters me like your kisses
and tucks in the weeping that prisioner
who thinks of you day after day.

A man waits in the desert
for the sky to turn gray,
for you to love me in hassania²,
for them to give back the melody
stolen from the wind.
The sand from the hourglasses made the desert grow.

If the cold night assaults us
let me spend it in your haima.
If wind lifts the sand,
the better, for I'll get to spend more days with you.

From the ciffs
of Bojador³ the waves sing:
"no more defeats".
The man in the desert waited for too long.

A man waits in the desert
for the sky to turn gray,
for you to love me in hassania,
for them to give back the melody
stolen from the wind.
The sand from the hourglasses made the desert grow.

The sand from the hourglasses made the desert grow.