This is not the plain, itís a different clime:
avalanches roar down time after time,
And here the rockfall roars like a waterfall
And one could go down, one could go around -
but no, we choose the harder ground
And like a warpath is the path we call.
Who hasnít been there, who hasnít dared,
has never tried and proved himself fair
No matter that below he plucked stars down from the sky:
Below you wonít see, however you strive,
in all your long and happy life,
One tenth of all such wonders as on high.
Let others cry their own refrain,
but here no one dies in vain:
ĎTis better than from vodka or feverís heat.
For others will come, leave the comforts of home,
for risk and incredible labour to roam
And they will follow the path you did not complete.
No scarlet roses or ribbons sent,
and it doesnít look like a monument,
That stone that fate gave to you for your rest.
Like the eternal flame, all days the same,
the peak shines with emerald ice in your name,
That peak that you never did manage to best.
Vertical walls, take care and duck!
In the mountains you cannot trust to luck:
Here neither stone nor ice nor rock is true.
We trust only in the strength of our hands;
in our hands, our nailed hooks, and our friends,
And we pray that the safeties will hold through.
We cut out steps, dare not step back,
and from strain our knees shudder and crack
And our hearts break our ribs to pound upwards like drums.
The world is before you, youíre happy and mute,
and thereís only a little bit of envy in you
For those for whom the top is yet to come.