When the call of the hudud, Echoes through the palm fronds Carrying in their mists, Visions, memories:
Caravans of high spirited steads, Crisscrossing the endless seas of sand, Rushing through the oasis, Free, yet under control.
Of women washing in the hot springs, Sheltered in the evergreen palms, Weaving baskets, Cooking, sewing, scampering after the herds, Of days filled with toil.
Visions, memories: Cascading starlight, Casting its mild light over campsites, The moonlightâ€™s silver shadow Illuminating bearded faces, Young boys thumping their feet To the wild desert drum beat â€˜Dana, ya dan danâ€™ Singing of the pearls in the far away gulf â€˜Dana, ya dan danâ€™
The warm cardamom scented breeze Carrying the fresh coffee aroma, Warming, sizzling in the golden hooked pots To the young giggling girls Shyly peeking from behind the partitioned tent walls.
Flames flickering in the pit Wood slowly consumed, sparks flying, Dancing to the strain: â€˜dana, ya dan dan.â€™
The cry of the hudud Sweeps through the quiet morning air, To the dawn of a new century.
Visions, memories, Blown away by the winds of change.
* Hudud hoopoe ** Dana refers to a type of Gulf pearls, and the refrain â€˜dana ya dan danâ€™ is a popular one used in Gulf songs.