The night is cold and bright Against the twilight, and the night The forests are dark and deep Where great giants thunder, in the stillness of their sleep The crags are hollow, haunted The lonely mountains that wander A thousand miles a horizon Wild Wilderness by midnight. And only I to witness a haunt all my own. The blackness of the night to greet me With walls of wind and echoes calling home. Another league, another hour. Not even the birds sing in winters deep grasp Nothing but the howl of 3 am. An old man and the mountain. We were always meant to be.