Flowers blooming on the mountain peak,

Never asking about spring and summer in the mortal world.
When the wind comes, they stretch out, when the clouds pass, they gently brush,
Turning loneliness into grandeur.

They have seen the brightest stars fall,
And have caught the coldest frost and snow melting.
Beneath their feet is a towering cliff,
Look up, and it’s the entire horizon.

No one waters them, no one breaks them off,
They only grow toward the sunlight,
In the place closest to the sky,
Alone, magnificent.