Up there, she stands,
beatifull, silent, proud,
jungled mountains dance around her,
as constelations pass by.

Stone, grey, green curves,
shape the slopes, still steep.
Awesome, within the silence,
it is The Wind who sings.

In childish ways,
the Sun, the Fog, play,
caressing the citadel,
magic the lights, cast over her.

In just one breath
she owned my voice.
Quiet, I sing of peace,
on these terraces of God.

La Finita

Laa Finita

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/machu-pichu-peru/