There’s a turbaned girl beyond the sea
where Lion and Antelope roam;
Her image floats before me
in life’s tempestuous foam.
Always young and ever fair
as I grow grey and old;
Her face I see with smile so rare
a face so proud and bold.
Her eyes contain a message,
too late to atone;
Oh! Why did you take passage
and leave me here alone?
Fleeting time since long ago,
where is my dancing dusky flower?
My aching heart it yearns to know
and dreams of her in shaded bower.
Who knows what the future brings,
we surely know what is past;
And her voice to me still sings;
Echoes! Down the years to last.
Monty Alexander 30.7.20