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 claims the victory.