The floor turned into sand,
then shifted to a desert.
There Karanduniash stood,
like an overgrown oasis,
sublime and mysterious,
raised by the will
of Nabû-kudurri-uṣur.
The moonlight kisses
the hanging gardens.
It is quiet from afar
but it is only a mirage,
it teems with life:
humming, rustling,
whispering to the stars.
Embraced by two rivers,
winding like snakes,
bathed by the waters
of hidden aqueducts,
this suspended Eden
welcomes all dreamers
carrying lost secrets.
When the sun sets
bees start yawning.
Velvet moths float in,
caress datura trumpets
as moonflowers unfurl
and luminous fireflies
light up the scene.
In the hanging gardens,
among figs and olive trees,
it is not yet time to sleep.
It is the hour of stargazing
while harps accompany
the lonesome echoes
of the distant sea.
Wrapped in the mist,
sipping date nectar,
sugary and sweet,
in the shapes of constellations,
sifting through citrus blossoms,
the dreamers may find
what they came to seek.
Karanduniash never dies,
it lives beyond time.
It cannot be chased away,
only remembered by some
and forgotten by many.
Still it stands by the rivers,
for whoever would listen.
Cosmic & Uneasy 