"My gold and my treasures each a share they bore away,
Without thanks, without praise, with a jest and with a jibe.
"My gold and my treasures each his share they bore away,
On me they left the weight!--with me they left the sin!
"That night within the grave without hoard or child I lay,
No spouse, no friend were there, no comrade and no kin.
"The wife of my youth, soon another husband found--
A stranger sat at home on the hearthstone of my sire.
"My son became a slave, though not purchased nor bound,
The hireling of a stranger, who begrudged him his hire.
"Such, alas, is human life! such the horror of his death!
Man grows like a grass, like a god he sees no end.
"Be wise, then, ere too late, brother! praise with every breath
The hand that can chastise, the arm that can defend:
"And bless thou the Prophet, the averter of our ills,
While the lightning flasheth bright o'er the ocean and the hills."
At this hour my companions become imaginative and superstitious. One
Salimayn, a black slave from the Sawahil [24], now secretary to the Hajj,
reads our fortunes in the rosary. The "fal" [25], as it is called, acts a
prominent part in Somali life.
