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Marrakesh night market
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They're gathered in circles
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the lamps light their faces
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The crescent moon rocks in the sky
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The poets of drumming
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keep heartbeats suspended
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The smoke swirls up and then dies
|
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Would you like my mask?
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would you like my mirror?
|
cries the man in the shadowing hood
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You can look at yourself
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you can look at each other
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or you can look at the face, the face of your god
|
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The stories are woven
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and fortunes are told
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The truth is measured by the weight of your gold
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The magic lies scattered
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on rugs on the ground
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Faith is conjured in the night market's sound
|
|
Would you like my mask?
|
would you like my mirror?
|
cries the man in the shadowing hood
|
You can look at yourself
|
you can look at each other
|
or you can look at the face, the face of your god
|
|
The lessons are written
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on parchments of paper
|
They're carried by horse from the river Nile
|
says the shadowy voice
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In the firelight, the cobra
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is casting the flame a winsome smile
|
|
Would you like my mask?
|
would you like my mirror?
|
cries the man in the shadowing hood
|
You can look at yourself
|
you can look at each other
|
or you can look at the face, the face of your god
|
|
|
|
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Marrakesh night market
|
| Loreena McKennitt |
