Do you ever wonder
where the rivers flow?
Desolate, white Mountain peak
what happens to your melted snow?
Between here and there, forests and planes
your living waters feed.
Birds and beasts this gift refreshed,
this gift of life you bleed.
Oh many days of journeying
your children from you run
while you stand there unmoving
under the rising sun.
Shall I sing to you, uncaring mound,
O mighty sky flung earth?
Your top divides the passing clouds
t'which sun and sea gave birth.
Proud thing whose shadow is my home
—there's depths deeper than your height
mountains sunk, submerged below white waves,
that know no more sun's light.
I love you myst veiled mountaintop;
your deadly heart is fire.
But the rivers lead me hence
with them I needs retire.
Tale Told 