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This glancing life is like a morning star A setting sun, or rolling waves at sea A gentle breeze or lightning in a storm A dancing dream of all eternity The sand was shimmering in the morning light And dancing off the dunes so far away The night held music so sweet, so long And there we lay until the break of day We woke that morning at the onward call Our camels bridled up, our howdahs full The sun was rising in the eastern sky Just as we set out to the desert's cry Calling, yearning, pulling, home to you The tents grew smaller as we rode away On earth that tells of many passing days The months of peace and all the years of war The lives of love and all the lives of fears Calling, yearning, pulling, home to you We crossed the river beds all etched in stone And up the mighty mountains ever known Beyond the valleys in the searing heat Until we reached the caravanserai Calling, yearning, pulling, home to you Calling, yearning, pulling, home to you What is this life that pulls me far away What is that home where we cannot reside What is that quest that pulls me onward My heart is full when you are by my side Calling, yearning, pulling, home to you Calling, yearning, pulling, home to you —Lorena McKennitt, "Caravanserai"

When spring-time flushes the desert grass, Our kafilas wind through the Khyber Pass. Lean are the camels but fat the frails, Light are the purses but heavy the bales, As the snowbound trade of the North comes down To the market-square of Peshawur town.   In a turquoise twilight, crisp and chill, A kafila camped at the foot of the hill. Then blue smoke-haze of the cooking rose, And tent-peg answered to hammer-nose; And the picketed ponies, shag and wild, Strained at their ropes as the feed was piled; And the bubbling camels beside the load Sprawled for a furlong adown the road; And the Persian pussy-cats, brought for sale, Spat at the dogs from the camel-bale; And the tribesmen bellowed to hasten the food; And the camp-fires twinkled by Fort Jumrood; And there fled on the wings of the gathering dusk A savour of camels and carpets and musk, A murmur of voices, a reek of smoke, To tell us the trade of the Khyber woke. —Rudyard Kipling, The Ballad of the Kings Jest

Comprador's Report: "Taipan present prices per unit here are, Opium 16500, Silk 1100, Arms 120, General 5. Shall I Buy, Sell, Quit trading, Transfer cargo, Visit bank? —Classic electronic trading game, Taipan

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