I look over the frosted mountains
Of time, The misty clouds of life
Sank low upon carved fountains
Made by melting snow. The strife
In men spread across the whole view:
The view as a beginning with no sighted end.
I saw the art, that like a bird flew
Past us as an unburdened friend.

It reached out to hold my hand;
Exclamations of amazement resound
As my feet are comforted by the warm sand;
Heated hearts by a classical sound.

The view leads me to art, to friendship,
And makes life of Rosy wine to sip