I have breathed the clear air of the mountains.
Where mosses creep among the roots,
Where willows guard the pebbly rivulets,
Where each tiny grain is set with care.
Glistening tiaras to impress the sky.
I went on past many cirques,
Their walls of snow and spacious murals,
Shining down on azure lakes.
Sparkles dancing off their sides.
The blue sky amused with clouds of cotton.
I went on past jutting spires and melting tongues of ice.
Where the world lay below me distant and weary.
I sat by the shore of a tiny lake and dropped in a hook,
And pulled out one funny fish from the bottomless deep,
Would you believe – its flesh was the color of blood.