This year's caravans tell
that the Great Queen is buried
with great honour, oh, mama
without me
This year's caravans tell
that the Sun King is ill
his wife too, and people whisper
that the gods are punishing them
that they are just humans
that everyone knows what comes
of inbreeding, oh little brother
oh my dear sister, hard
is your destiny, the Sun is too high
too far from our family, here as well
in the middle country where I got
stuck with the returnees
This year's caravans tell
that the Sun has been bannished
from the name of the king
that he is pale and feverish, with a club
foot and the backbone of a snake
pushing itself forward with a stick
My nephew – I don't know you, people say
that you are as beautiful as Nefertiti was –
I pray heaven to take pity on you
This year's caravans tell
that the queen-widow only
has her grandfather to marry her
The king of the north doesn't answer
her letter, her request for a man next to her
on the throne that cannot be saved