Hovering on a hint of breeze,
the predatory hawk hangs
with a practised ease
high in a cloudless sky,
scanning all that lies below
with a keen, unblinking eye.
A slight tilt of the head,
a sudden dip of a wing,
then swooping, talons spread,
down on unsuspecting prey.
A lazy flap of the wings,
and gone, upon its way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem