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Mystical the old Hill standing
Over it thick mist hazing
Kids, we were at its foot playing
In a large green meadow dallying

Heedless, innocence enjoying
The Hill’s slopes utterly ignoring
In youths, up we were growing
The Hill in our eyes was swelling

The mist little by little retreating
An enthralling Hill gradually unveiling
Majestic it stood there really tempting
The pasture we were all forsaking

One day at its bottom standing
Our sires admiringly observing
The Hill’s slopes they were climbing
The top in sight yet remote looking

A desire, inside, our minds seizing
To conquer the peak an urging longing
The meadow in our hearts dying
To venture up the Hill all our wanting

Vernal, conceited the worst choice making
A steep, sharpest inclination challenging
Soon unknown hardships we were facing
Feet down the slope perilously sliding

Fingernails for a grasp breaking
A helping hand around searching
Bruises our skin covering
The price we were told for learning.

That was only the beginning
Harder moments later we were enduring
Helpless we saw our sires one by one down falling
Yet the ascent wasn’t just sadness and mourning

Dear kids in the meadow our places taking
Their sinless smiles our hearts warming
To green flowery fields for a rest inviting
Peaceful sweet- scented fields, regenerating.

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