Oh ponder, friend, the lion
when he roars all the games scatters,
runs away and on and on
are scared that he will rip them to tatters.
How powerful is he
and where he hunts there’s trouble,
for most frailer animals a kind of emergency
as he rushes in for a kill at the double.
Yet as age encumbers him
he is driven from the pack
and looses his self-esteem
while in vain he tries to get his position back
and when old, wounded and in pain
at a time he gets real thin
and even fears the thunder that comes with rain
while it’s a pitiful position that he is in
as through the years he had developed his skills
but a time comes that his kingdom to him is lost
while he not apt to make anymore kills
and finally he has to pay the cost
while every vulture, hyena and jackal
runs circles around him while he snaps in vain
and continually the struggle is for nothing at all
while he doesn’t find anything to gain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem