Mountains tall as old as time, look upon the twilight gold.
Dark now, in the fading light, till moon-rise, and a sky so bright.
Mountains tall. And dark. And steep.
Moon – she casts her silvery gaze on soaring hills, and valleys low.
Streams of shining shimmering light, and shadows dark – mysterious!
She casts her silvery gaze across.
Back into time and days of old, when man did walk across this land.
And looked up at the mountains tall.
The rhythm of his life a beat, heard high and low on hills and plains, echoing in valleys low.
The rocks and stones can still recall, though stone-age Man’s long passed away.
Way back in time to who knows when, no man yet walks across the land.
The earth moves, the mountains quake. Rocks and stones begin to shake.
Falling down from way on high, tumbling, crashing, groaning, roaring.
While mountains, ever skyward soaring, groaning, moaning, climbing high, are reaching up into the sky.
Earth, her labour long complete,
The rhythm of her sighs now beat the beat of life that ebbs and flows,
While moonlight glints on mountain slopes.
A longing for the ages past, with thoughts of life that’s still be.
Smiling Moon now moving low behind mountains tall as old as time,
Mountains Tall. And Steep.
‘The Mountains of Tasmania’ is a piano piece by Peter Sculthorpe which I learned when I was in my late teens. My piano teacher asked me to do a little research and write some notes on it so I would understand it better.
My desperate search for background on this piece in those days when we didn’t have the benefit of internet access resulted in this poem.
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