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I watched the snow on the
mountain tops turn to liquid gold
as the sun set swiftly
as if fleeing from the cold.

So black was the night that
the peaks just disappeared
and everywhere was stillness
as the wraiths of night appeared.

So cold was the air that
it almost hurt to breathe,
so thin was the air that
my lungs began to wheeze.

Staring at the blackness
I saw a twinkling light
suspended in the air
in the darkness of the night.

Yellow, orange, red in turn,
like the eyes of stalking tigers,
I realized, astonished,
that the light was on the Eiger.

Some fools were on the mountain,
having almost reached the summit!
As I thought of their predicament,
I felt my stomach plummet.

The Eiger isn't pretty
like the other Alpine peaks,
it's stark and sheer and barren
and its summit's rarely reached.

The north face of the Eiger is
so sheer that snow can't cling,
I wondered, as I went to bed,
what would the daylight bring.

Morning crept up slowly
as I pondered what I'd seen,
now the Eiger was in daylight,
I guess it must have been a dream.

No one could survive up there,
or even climb that high,
it must have been an illusion
or some stars up in the sky.

And then I heard a throbbing noise
that echoed through the valley:
a chopper with a rescue crew
to count the Eiger's tally.

Four bodies they brought down that day,
those fools whose flame I'd seen,
and the northern wall was stone-faced
and the Eiger sat serene.

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