I cling to the bridle going up then down
twenty days now nothing but rain
all I see are gathering clouds
no sign of spring in the cliffs
it's not easy staying dry fording streams
and mountain trails are too hard to follow
gibbons fill the woods with their eerie howls
the tiger tracks in the mud look fresh
as we mount up the sun finally breaks through
I survey the landscape of dawn
flowers are as dense as fog
a hundred different plants surround us
our horses whinny and keep turning their heads
they're glad to be going home