A Herd of Camels
Hong Kong Academy, William Grosse, Poetry: Group 3
Across the many mountains old,
plains hilly and forests cold:
there is a vast desert with canyons and dunes,
and a nomad’s yurt, under the moon.
Inside it was a middle aged man,
following a camel herd, for his clan.
This was the year 1213,
when Genghis Kahn was a killing machine.
On the edge of the huge rocky summits,
a wild cat fell from a ledge and plummets.
Our nomad caught him, gave him food,
tamed him, as if he was one of his brood.
Through ancient shrines crumbling,
his horse tripping and stumbling,
statues of the lord Buddha,
monk’s skeletons, long finished with their murmurs.
The journey is harder, camels being killed by wolves.
the herd shrinking, thwarting the man’s goals.
The two humped shaggy beasts are becoming weary;
our hero’s cat becoming more sneery.
Months go by, little progress,
the nomad’s chances becoming less.
The grey-bricked Great Wall comes into sight;
suddenly Chinese warriors appear, spoiling for a fight,
The man fires a burst of arrows at the rampage;
the soldiers are still not discouraged.
Arrows run out, our hero clashes swords;
Chinese run, and blood pours.
Tired and wounded, hobbling through the night,
relieved of all his power and might.
He was a wilted tree under the sun;
an old leper who’s good days are done.
