A lion lay sleeping on my heart
His bulk calling and kissing the ground
And for fear of what he might do
I resigned to make nary a sound
But the free dance of the gazelle called to my heart
Her pirouettes of ecstatic joy
Seemed a better fate to me
Than that great beast’s cruel ploy
Straining and bracing for what ever may come
I lever my scrawny strength against his roar
For I am determined to be rid of his curved claws
To return to that weight no more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem