In memory of Mikhail Khergiani1
You walk on the glacier’s brink
Your eyes fixed on the mountain’s top.
The mountains sleep, breathing clouds in,
Breathing out avalanches non-stop.

But all the time they are watching out for you
It’s as if they have made a pledge
To warn you of the looming dangers too
With the falling rock and the failing ledge.

The mountains were aware when trouble came.
Billowing smoke cloaked the mountain sides.
But then to you it all seemed the same:
The bursting shells and tumbling landslides.

And if you asked for help at all.
The rocks echoed back booming rallies
And the fierce wind blew the mountains call
Like radio signals through the valleys.

And when a battle for a pass reached its height,
To save you from the enemy’s eyes,
The ribs of stone hid you from sight
And the rocks shoulders became your disguise.

It’s a lie that clever men stay clear of mountains2;
You refused to believe what they said.
So the granite softens, ice melts to fountains
And the fog beneath you’s like a downy bed.

If you lie down forever in the eternal snow,
The mountains will arch and they will bend
Over you - as if you’re one of theirs, you know -
A headstone that will last to the end.