Passing by a wandering caravan —
Or was it a nomadic Hindu tribe?
I heard a voice, foreign to the land
And softly did it beckon me inside.
I met a gypsy beauty there within —
Or was it a pagan princess by the entrance?
With a smile her spell did begin,
And soon I found my weary self entranced.
She gave me drink and bade me of it taste
And sat me down beside her idol gods
And traced upon my palm a noble fate,
And pressing hard my hand she began to nod
And in wild tongue said “Here our paths do cross”
The bounties gained that day and O the bounties lost!
November 21, 2004