- cifra
Will I die or survive
From this hell made of ice?
It's up to this mountain to decide
What will happen to my life
The more I climb
The freezing ice
Intensifies
And paralyze me
A dreadful avalanche
Behind me
Enslaved to this mountain
I shall be
Amputate my Chilblains
Handless arm remains
My frozen body
I behold
Slowly turning
Stiff and cold
Smell the sweet stench
In wind's blow
Of lost carcasses
In the snow
