Voice like thunder over the plain,
King of the jungle, big and strong as a rock,
Mane as bushy and big as a cloud,
A lion, coming your way,
Slowly walking, confidently toward you, then running faster and faster,
King of the jungle, nothing can stop it but death, but then just as you think the lion is about to pounce, it slowly stops, looks you in the eye, you look back, then after a while he turns around and walks away, a miracle, they happen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem