When the cliffs are resounding in thunder around!
Thee feareth the fir-tree;
Thou crushest the fir-tree
From its root to its crown.
The cliffs flee before thee;
The cliffs thou engraspest,
And hurlest them, scornful, like pebbles adown.
The sun weaves around thee
The beams of its splendor;
It painteth with hues of the heavenly iris,