The tiger seemed a noble lord,
So dignified to me,
I know that I felt overawed,
At all that he could be.
I kept my distance to be safe
While taking photos fast,
Just keeping still while somewhat brave
As precious chances last.
The tiger basked there in the sun,
Flat out, yet still aware,
Not chasing after anyone
Or creature in despair.
So I was glad he posed at peace,
Content to rest alone,
As if his conscience were at ease,
As if no sins to own.
Yet who was I to criticise
These hunters Nature makes,
Environments to supervise,
Controlled for all their sakes?
So I remained until the time
As best seemed right to me,
Then left with photos so sublime
Meant for posterity.
Denis Martindale. May 2022.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
of a Bengal Tiger, entitled Indian Marharajah,
by Stephen Gayford. Google search my poems
using the search phrase Stephen Gayford.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem