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