In the night I hear my wolf howling, In sheer happiness of freedom,
Lost in the pleasures of the soul-mate's song;
Or in the agonies of hardship,
A mind forever icy, trapped within the insanity of a cruel calm.
I know not which gives reason to my wolf's ghost cry,
Nor when it will cease to haunt me with the memories of a beautiful lie.
All that is made certain is that in the night I still hear my wolf howling, causing the slow death in me to react in violence;
And yet I wish that it will never stop, for I fear, I dread, the eternal finality of the silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem