Mountain, mountain, dear mountains,
Which can be seen hazily in the distance,
And that soar up high,
As if they were about to reach the sky,
Dear lay of the land that is lofty,
That soars up high like a lamp post
As if it were about to pierce right through the sky,
Dear lay of the land of the heart that soars up high
Until it reaches the throne of the heaven,
It is the heart of heaven
That spreads down deeply
Into my heart.