Morocco Through a Window

A thousand colours, little green
These hills, where the Berber rode
After him the Arab on steed
Then French and Spanish on this road
That I, traveller, I pay to tour
As thousands did before me
Thousands after will do the same
Just another place for us to be.
Another life, another land through a window
Is it not like that with life yet?
We are but passing by, we see but little
On our speedy journey onto death.

Morocco seen through a bus window...
Morocco seen through a bus window…

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