Up to the trees I go, Further north where fresh water flows. Travel preparations with my heart aching, Home is where I’m free, Left alone just to be. Not in this gloomy place, Not within this heat wave. Like a pioneer, I pack my bags, Leaving behind the places I know, In search of the places, Where I’ll grow.
I’m on the road, making my way up to the mountains. Travel is good for the soul, you shouldn’t dwell in the same places for too long.