The sun has sunk into the bed of the sea;
Evening is come, you must submit!
An ancient perfume known to me
rises with the evening mist.
Before the return of Mother Sekhmet,
Before one more round is run!
You know you must submit,
Before the morning Sun.
Her cycles ever rule us from afar,
All must bow down before her might;
In daylight do we know the brightest star
That we may better know the night
She prowls the burning desert,
Exacting revenge on the certain few -
You know whereof I speak;
The fire consumes the dew!