Clouds in the valley...

There, beyond the meadow’s edge Where the route may seem to end, Lies a trail from long ago, That the hills now merge and blend   It was a trail of merchants past Who brought borax for trade Through passes hid in the mountains high For rice and clothes instead   They came from hamlets far away From the Roof upon the world, Tibet’s prayer flags of time On the mountains, once unfurled   They came down on the hills this side With bags of mountain salt, They also brought romantic tales From Chin, its silk route vault   But time passed by, new nations grew They came all at a cost, The borders sealed, the routes emptied And all the trails were lost   All that lives on, even today Are fragments of these trails, And dying names that we forgot, Beyond the hills and vales   Nubra, Gartang, Johar, Milam Names we hardly know Hundreds of outposts, passes, trails Through which the trades would flow ...