The wind is like a wolf.
It howls at the windows,
and scratches at the door
with dead branches
picked up at the moor.
As he lays in bed
His ears prick forward.
His eyes are wide.
Whiskers lean toward
the windwolf in the corner.
He goes outside,
spine hair bristled,
Looking for a fierce dog's hide.
Then the windwolf whistled
and was spotted by him.
In the dark of night,
they danced in delight,
spinning and twirling, despite
the fact that thay were
Feline and Canine.
It just goes to show,
that the opposite's soul,
(under the surface, down below)
Even big and small,
short and tall,
Our souls are all compatible.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Original and nice sentiment. At end of first stanza I would suggest 'on the moor' rather than 'at the moor'