Tigris and Euphrates

My mind falls upon the timeless Tigris.
From her mountain source she flows,
Along her path written in the sands of destiny.
Passing the forgotten cities of Babylon,
No heed is paid by her endless meander.
Vaguely she flows through time,
Sweeping with her the secrets of the City of Wisdom.
The ghosts of Umayyads and Abbassids drink from her still.

Her sapphire sister, the maiden Euphrates,
Keeps course along her own destined way.
The gem of Sumer,
Gilgamesh himself still bows his head to her fate.
From silks and gold,
She has felt the finest wares,
From spices to incense,
The finest scents have graced her.
Yet she flows on with effortless grace,
Detached, and resolute in her knowing.

Through time these two sisters flow,
Two glistening princesses of fate.
Through time they empty into the Gulf,
Sighing and wetting their feet.
Yet all the while they flow,
From their Anatolian source.
All the while they marvel at Babylon,
And blush as Gilgamesh kisses their cheek.
No heed is paid by their endless meander.
Vaguely, they flow through time.