The moon has risen, as the sun has died.
It glows an eerie red.
The black tree’s claw at the sky,
naked of leaves.
A rustling somewhere.
A crow takes flight.
My heart holds an unshaken tattoo.
This is my natural environment.
Here I am King,
With my crown of tooth and claw.
I am watched by an unseen jury,
But they know me.
For I am nature’s fury.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem