The mountain spoke in tones so deep,
A voice that rumbled in its sleep.
It whispered slow through winds that roared,
Through frozen peaks that skies adored.

I stood below, so small, so still,
A wanderer against its will.
I asked the stone, I asked the height,
Do you feel lonely in the night?

The mountain laughed, a hollow sound,
It shook the sky, it kissed the ground.
I do not long, I do not weep,
For I am old and I am steep.

I watch the world, I watch it change,
Yet I remain, though all is strange.
And even when my rocks may break,
My soul will stay, my soul will wake.