CHORUS Look down at the earth, look down, look down; down from the north the snowstorm comes. Mile after mile on each side of the ice-locked wall vanishes. Far as you can see you cannot see the land or sky. A living current moves beneath rivers caught in the hand of death, serpentine mountains cross the plain to bask in an uncertain sun, and elephantine hills rejoice advancing towards a sky of ice. This country is so beautiful; one fine day you will see it all.