Watching the scene with keen blue eyes,
There, rough rocks, hills and mountain rise.
Up, up the firmament he flies.

Forever youthful, fast and strong,
His mighty wings like canvas long;
He squishes his prey with his prong.

Like him, I see the open sky.
The hot air makes my wet eyes dry;
I'm burnt with fire, my thoughts flow by.

The winds below me sweep the sand.
Near the sun o'er a lonely land,
Soaring high, not a single friend.