To the mountains high, with their majestic grace, I turn my heart in quiet reverie, Their strength calls to the weary soul within, In their towering shadows, I yearn to be free.
The air is crisp, filled with whispers of old, As the path weaves winding through branches and stone, Each step I take, a journey renewed, In the grandeur of nature, I am not alone.
- Anna Akhmatova