To the bustle of streets, flow of cars, traffic blocks To city life we return, we come back, as it happens. We descend from the conquered high mountaintops And we leave our hearts, and we leave our hearts in the mountains. There is no use to argue about it, I have known for a very long time: There is one thing thatís better than mountains, And itís mountains that we havenít climbed. Who would want to be left in the lurch, with no hopes? Who would want to give in, his heart disobeyiní? We descend from the conquered high mountaintops... Nothing doing: gods, too, used to come down from heaven. There is no use to argue about it, I have known for a very long time: There is one thing thatís better than mountains, And itís mountains that we havenít climbed. Many beautiful songs, many hopes, words of love Are inspired by mountains, they eternally call us. Yet we have to descend, for a year or for life For we have to return from the mountains... always. There is no use to argue about it, I have known for a very long time: There is one thing thatís better than mountains And itís mountains that we havenít climbed.
© Alec Vagapov. Translation, 1998