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High in the trees,

in the lands called Kush,

where the balmy winds,

smell of spice and persimmon.

There fight the tribes of the simian folk,

over leagues of wood,

and the black, rich land.



Down from the clouds,

falls a glistering shape,

from among the trees,

swings a leaping Hanuman.

There at his feet

lays a beautiful jewel,

he will take it home,

he will tell his king...



Into these jungles went Rama,

searching for his mate.

He is desperate for help,

he is calling her name... Sita!

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