All of which I get apart from one very brief sentence.
The wind grew stronger and stronger. It blew from inland, bringing with it more and more sand. If you wanted to see things a long way away, it all looked rather hazy. Sand everywhere: mouth, nose, eyes, ears and on your head. It was terrible. Nor did it cool down at all. Night came. I lay in my tent, the canteen close by my side. It was sultry and I was sparing with each swig of coffee. I drank each sip anxiously. Fear of the Allewerden. I had a lemon in my other hand, which I smelled from time to time. A wonderful smell compared with the always-dry air here. The hot ghibli tore at my tent. The awning beat and flapped. I did not think about anything, did not move and could not fall asleep under these circumstances.