Just below the blue sky I stand,
On the top of the Mountain’s land,
Filling the lungs with that divine air,
Stretching upwards both of my hand.
Those craggy tops and slopes just stare,
And alpine mountains with the snowy layer,
With blissful moments and memories grand,
Hills are naked and earth so bare.
The holy is shrine and so is the fire,
Burning through the eternity you will admire,
Also the cold wind and frozen lakes,
Fill you with blessings and holy ire.
I wonder how god made these flakes,
Along with the beautiful things it takes,
Might be a paradise once with spire,
Of mighty lord that’s how it makes.
Of mighty lord that’s how it makes….