You hate my pessimism

I accompanied you at the bottom of glacier in this magic place where on the other side of the white wall the sun never lies down. The weather is not cold. It never made cold there. The sun floats above the white barrier fixedly hung between the mountains. It always was thus. Its glare is sharp, without being plugging. To tighten the hands, to seek to attract it with oneself, the desire is if trying. You tell me the history of these men who wanted to go to see other side the sun and this world that it illuminates. One tried to dissuade them. But, they were if stubborn. Parties, they never returned. To comfort itself, some think that they found a country marvellous where heat, softness are linked offering happiness to them. I want to believe it well but is does reasonable? That will lead us to want to climb the glacier, to be played of its cracks. Es do you lend for this voyage without return? You told me that up there between the mountains monsters doze, demons, guards of this marvellous territory. Do we Somme ready to defy them? I doubt it. You like what shines. Me not. To avoid me a cruel disillusion, I prefer to believe that on the other side of the glacier the sun is burning hot, that its rays are only sufferings. You will hate my pessimism, I know it. You react always thus. But we are still in life…