Tahalamot

Last night, when I dreamt about Tahalmoyt Of her elegant appearance, nonchalant at dusk In the middle of the tents I grabbed hold of Ebazaw and harnessed my saddle to him Not any just old one; it belonged to Agadez I donned Alacho, my most beautiful indigo turban And my two boubou robes I replaced the bolt of my padlock I acted like a nobleman who doesn’t hide himself away I perfumed myself with musk and incense I belted myself with wool and silk I passed through a valley where the Tihardanen* played They made me feel happy And I arrived at the camp above Timadjlalen