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The talisman of the proud Aryans* shines with the golden-eyed Moon, The antiquity of the times is falling like gems under your feet And the caravan of my dreams wanders along the sands alone All trying to preserve the forgotten secret of the tribes... The time of the three transitions curled up like a snake loop Can someone overcome the dunes of quicksand? The skies rustle through the centuries with silver brocade, Revealing for a moment the majestic faces of the Gods... Memory will quietly hide in the white palace from Khamsin**, Under the guttural singing, the frost will fall to the ground... That's where I remember the magical flight of the Simurg bird*** And why does the caravan of my dreams keep wandering and wandering...
A surreal desert landscape features a circular, reflective pool surrounded by sandy dunes. The sky is illuminated by a large, glowing moon, creating a dreamlike atmosphere.