Rain trickles from ancient leaves and branches.
To the end of the earth,
gleaming greenness.
In the trees,
a monkey suckles its child,
idly turning to the sound of intruders.    
A hunter ascends a tree
and falls to his death
on a bed of moss-covered stone,
gaping for breath,
staring numbly for the last time
at the mournful sky.

And the orchid's sweet fragrance
slips through the air
still luring men
to narrow paths.

Tien Tran