Great and Rugged Pyrenees
Whose solid presence demands
Notice of lush valleys
And Spanish oaks that dot the glens –
Prevailing winds churn in wrath –
I stop to breathe in them;
You cut the horizon in half
And grip my eye with icy hands.
Your cohort – a mix of clouds –
Can’t forever hide your majesty.
Seville looks on from the south;
Andorra sings the victory.
Be First to Comment