Shall I beware, henceforth, those alpine heights?
My spirit climbs them only to descend
down to the deepest chasm where it bites
the dust made muddy by my tears’ rich blend;
and only when that newly fertile valley
fosters a harvest to restore my zeal,
may I, once more, with lighter footsteps, rally
upward to where the wounded heart may heal.
Shall I then spurn those himalayan trails
and court the gentler rolling hills of home?
Less lofty are her brows, less steep her vales,
her soil already rich in potent loam.