I honor Pyninus of the bleak and rocky peak,
lord of the mountain pass, who stands constant guard
by the ancient way, who wards the traveler
from harm. Pyninus who roams the cold and stormy
lands, whose temple stood on high among the mists,
where peddlers and pilgrims offered up their prayers,
you make your home where the wind blows sharp, where it screams
like a forsaken soul. Yours is the passageway,
the gap within the solid stone, the path well worn
by countless feet, the place that is no place,
the ground where none dare dwell. Safekeeper, sentinel,
I praise your name, Pyninus; I honor your calling.