Mountains rise with stately grace, Their peaks a home to the spirits’ embrace. Echoes of thunder, the earth’s deep sigh, A testament to time that will never die.

In the valleys, shadows lie, Where streams of crystal softly cry. Nature weaves a fabric grand, Binding all with her gentle hand.

Through every storm, through every tear, Her power lifts us, draws us near. In wilderness, we find our call, For in her arms, we are one and all.

• Juliusz Słowacki