This year's caravans tell
   that the Great Queen is buried
   with great honour, oh, mama
   without me

This year's caravans tell
   that the Sun King is ill
   his wife too, and people whisper

   that the gods are punishing them
   that they are just humans
   that everyone knows what comes

   of inbreeding, oh little brother
   oh my dear sister, hard
   is your destiny, the Sun is too high

   too far from our family, here as well
   in the middle country where I got
   stuck with the returnees

This year's caravans tell
   that the Sun has been bannished
   from the name of the king

   that he is pale and feverish, with a club
   foot and the backbone of a snake
   pushing itself forward with a stick

   My nephew – I don't know you, people say
   that you are as beautiful as Nefertiti was –
   I pray heaven to take pity on you

This year's caravans tell
   that the queen-widow only
   has her grandfather to marry her

   The king of the north doesn't answer
   her letter, her request for a man next to her
   on the throne that cannot be saved