Panoramas - Uzbekistan

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We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go

Always a little further; it may be

Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow

Across that angry or that glimmering sea,

White on a throne or guarded in a cave

There lies a prophet who can understand

Why men were born: but surely we are brave

Who take the Golden Road to Samarkand.

Sweet to ride forth at evening from the wells

When shadows pass gigantic on the sand

And softly through the silence beat the bells

Along the Golden Road to Samarkand.

We travel not for trafficking alone;

By hotter winds our fiery hearts are fanned:

For lust of knowing what should not be known,

We take the Golden Road to Samarkand.

−− James Elroy Flecker.

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