Like a burning rush of blood,
The heavens glow.
Ripples of spreading, flaming glory,
The rugged peaks of harsh white ice,
A silhouette of creamy, softening pink,
The vale below is drowned with cloud,
A misty sea.
Now rising with coming dawn,
The shadows flee.
Gold and crimson, scarlet, orange bars,
The marching sky,
Across the Hymalayan peaks, the vale of cloud,
Towards the ridge of Nagarkot,
Where I am humbled.