Great and Rugged Pyrenees
Whose solid presence demands
Notice of lush valleys
And Spanish oaks that dot the glens -

Prevailing winds churn in wrath -
I stop to breathe in them;
You cut the horizon in half
And grip my eye with icy hands.

Your cohort - a mix of clouds -
Can't forever hide your majesty.
Seville looks on from the south;
Andorra sings the victory.