When all a summer's meadow sleeps,
their howls will fill the air
and high upon a rocky bluff,
the wolves will guard their lair.
In lonely croons beneath the moon
they mourn the ones who passed;
in somber shades of twilight's song,
forever legends last.
They trek across the driven snow
to where the trout stream bends;
breaking paths through winter's wrath,
the struggle never ends.
The frozen land is home to them,
they call the mountain friend.
Children of the moon and stars
run wild with the wind.
So once again the night will call
and draw them to their prey
and they will gather on the bluff;
when wind and moonlight play.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.