The ragged coyote gazes up at the orbiting hawk,
mesmerized, ravenous, impressed.
The golden-winged hawk gazes down at the pacing coyote,
as if into a crystal ball. She is brave, but she is weary.
If you were not my sustenance,
you might be my brother.
Circling, pacing,
waiting: prey upon prey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem