The mountain rises bold and regal, A sentinel of rolling green, Each summit pierces tranquil heavens, In quiet strength, the world is seen. And lakes like mirrors hold the sky, Reflecting dreams that nature spills, In solitude, I find my purpose, Amidst the breeze and echoing hills. Each rock, a witness of the ages, With stories carved by wind and rain, In the depths of nature’s splendor, I seek my heart, I seek my pain.
- Marina Tsvetaeva