---

The sirocco whispers

to the lonely dune

A past

irradiated

Some nuclear experience

the age-old desert tremble

We rise

From a desert

Where the oases

Are red with blood

Nuclear experiment

Buried under the sand

We are the natives

Of your contradiction

I am your guilty conscience

that you try to buried

Inside me

This past emerges

In the light

of my skin

That you refuse

to see

to touch

and admit

I am the desert that dreams

bruised by fate

I am the wind that writes on the sand

I am the oasis

Where memory blooms

I am the desert

bruised by doom

I am the oasis

Where memory blooms