If his face shows a queer scowl And he seems neither fish nor fowl If you canít decide for sure Whether friendship is fake or pure Try ascending the steepest slope Tied to opposite ends of the rope Finding toeholds in ice and snow His true colors will show If the mountains give him the chills And he looks like your stomach feels After slipping on ice, he cries Panic shines in his wide-open eyes Next to you just a stranger stands You must not put your life in his hands Itís no use to berate or curse Might as well let him loose If he didnít complain or whine Clenching teeth through entire climb When you suddenly slipped and fell His hands fought with the rope but held If he acted as if at war At the summit he swayed with awe Doesnít matter what he might seem You can place all your trust in him
© Trotta.Gnam. Translation, 2013