The desert tells of many things

Of creatures rattling and born with wings,

At night above the raging sand

The wind blows whistling like a band,

Speaking nothings of past and present

Telling creatures of times too pleasant,

Of sand pressed by water

Of beasts drived by slaughter,

Fins and gills of monsters unknown

Things that can only be found in stone,

Today the sands stand still here

Today the sands only know the heat and fear,

At night in sand the cold still stays

For in the day its met by blaze,

The desert tells of many things

The desert rests living off dead kings.