Walking is hard going for the speaker here. Each step hurts, the ground is rough, and nothing along the way offers comfort. The poem lists what is missing: there is no stream to drink from and no tree to give shade. Every line adds another small hardship, so the weariness builds up the way it would on a long trek.
The title, "Terrains," hints that the land itself is the problem, though the poem never says where the speaker is. It could be a real landscape, or it could stand for a difficult stretch of life. The poem leaves that open, and judging by the bare, plain wording, either reading works. What comes through most clearly is exhaustion and a feeling of being alone, with nothing to lean on.
The final line, a question, is the most telling: "When will my journey end?" It sounds tired and a little desperate, and it gets no answer. The mood is bleak and weary, with only a faint wish for rest.