In Habbanan beneath the skies Where all roads end however long There is a sound of faint echoes And distant echoes of a song, For there men gather into rings Round their red fires while one voice sings – And all about is night (And all about is night).
Not night as ours, unhappy folk, Where nigh the Earth in hazy bars, A mist about the springing of the stars, There trails a thin and wandering smoke Obscuring with its veil half-seen The great abysmal still Serene.
A globe of dark glass faceted with light Wherein the splendid winds have dusky flight; Untrodden spaces of an odorous plain That watches for the moon that long has lain And caught the meteors' fiery rain – Such there is night.
...and caught the meteors' fiery rain If I am dead and gone, would you remain...