Dark are the forests where the wolves dwell,
Deep is the snow to hide bloody tracks,
Your soul is one of those empty shells,
You howl in the night, but no one howls back.
You possess the might, sharp fangs and your claws,
The hunger for flesh fills your gleaming eyes,
You hunt, and you catch, your feast will be raw,
In blood you were born, in blood you will die.
The pack that was your, now leaves you behind,
Vengence you seek with a flame in your heart,
No flame in your eyes, you are lost and blind,
And the sorrow after youth tore your soul apart.
Lying in the snow, you are ready to die,
As the howling wind sings your last lullaby.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.