What words. What soul!
Yes, he was perhaps some deep Krim of the Mountain, our little prince.
What words! What Words! What Words!
I am high
in the grand aboves
in sister sky and brother sky-cloud
and all my siblings (seven by seven)
with fourty-nine fathers
I am deep
in muddy depths
under aunt branch and uncle branch-root
and all my sons (nine by nine)
with eighty-one mothers
I am true
on Krimean peaks
in all-father Krim’s magnificent gaze
and under his paternal care
with eternal knowledge unveiled