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Far across the sands that shimmer
In the dry bed of the stream,
Distant sheets of water glimmer,
Hazy like mirages simmer,
Blue like jewels, with promise gleam.

By the banks the hunters waiting
For the burning sun to wane.
Destiny they are creating,
Primal needs the young men sating,
As the ancient ways ordain.

By their sides their weapons bearing,
Warriors now in their prime.
To the distant waters staring,
Through the heat-haze hot and glaring,
Waiting for the killing time.