I see mountain ranges far ahead.

Purely covered valleys gleam into my eyes.

As I ride down, white scenery flashes by.

Turn after turn, strive after strive,

The swooshing sounds of the wind increase as I gain speed,

People, trees and skis are soaring straight behind.

Suddenly, I fall and all becomes a hush

Lying there face first in the snow,

I begin to smell the pureness of the air.

The fresh, mountain air cools my body down.

Unexpectedly I shiver, and know its time to move

As I ski, I see valleys right beside me.

They are arranged in glazing patterns.

Big, small, big, small

I am amazed by nature’s beauty.

Finally, I reach the very end

And I’m ready to go to the very top

I begin to see Mont Blanc.

The highest of the high of France,

The king of its peasants

Stood there proudly, calling for me.