The curve of grouse watering in a flock
They near the pool water in all haste….

They stay intoxicated at the springs as if
Drinkers dependent on Persian lords
They took a little drink and hurried to
Take it away between Shibak and Tandib
The night in a desert and morning as guests.

There at brood places in a hungry flock
They press to belly and breast the wings
And hover a little at a favorite pool
Then they slow the beating of wings to end
At their sides shoulder to shoulder.

So they hear their sounds and hungry cries
And give them back from that as echo
They bend to the naked heads as if they
Are boy's balls made of rabbit's skin
When the dark leaves them they give them
a drink of the pool nearby never empty.

The name of harshness is theirs and chicks
Make an uproar that is not understood….