Those misbegotten dogs, O how they howl,
ears up and tense,
at darker darkness on the midnight's edge,
at blacker shadows, at a deeper growl,
beside the forest fence
where Bruin, ragged as a winter hedge,
came through the palings with a casual crash
and now is ripping up the litter bins
for peelings, mouldered cheese and kitchen trash;
for bones, rich-smelling rinds and open tins.
Beyond the barking dogs I know he's there.
They turn to me encouraged, push too close,
fly back, droop-tailed, so leaving me to dare
the infamous, the mighty and morose,
ill-natured, riled and hungry forest bear
but he has slipped away, the burly lout,
the bins all wrecked and all the waste thrown out.
A bear visit in Brasov, Romania.
What a refreshing poet, what wonderful words, love this piece!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I see that I have to study your poetry, for its wording, for its sensitiveness, for its elucidy for itsunexpected point of''feeling'', for its its picturable scenes, for its now and then sense of humor....