Swooping on gradients and hairpin bends
When the sun sinks and softly descends
At a mellow pace in Heaven's wide arch
A thousand pines in the clouds' arms
Swing and sway in welcome mists,
On glorious crests bend and twist.
Winds sing sweetly, airs are benign
And the city looks dreamy and shines
Like a starry plane far beneath me
As I look down the scary lee.
Soaring upwards in the mellow blush of day
A spot sparkles in the foggy dark and stays
Glowing on the lush peaks illumining grays.
Savory aromas float on the evening breeze
With melodies sweet they soothe and appease.
Beaming smiles, tinkling laughs trail
And ring in the quiet of peaks and vales,
Soft gales come forth to kiss the flowers
And gently tease the loose tresses,
Cheery cherubs romp and play,
Fairies in bunches and clothes very gay.
Down in the valley a hutch stands,
Figures move like ghosts on dreary lands
A faint light in the gloom of night
Bewilders the mind, a haunting sight.
But the life high above swings and thrives,
The hills are alive! The hills are alive!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.