The white wolf went about his day
With one thing on his mind,
It was his nature to obey
For some new food to find...
The solemn truth, survival first,
The rest was just a blur,
This day was either blessed or cursed,
Who knows what would occur?
In life, death is the guarantee,
The last resort, no more,
That's why there was no mystery
When hunger was so sure...
The white wolf crushed white snow beneath
As he ran to and fro,
Pressed lips still hid his pure white teeth
While he felt hunger grow...
The carnivore searched his domain,
Found food and thus survived,
Some thing would lose while he would gain
From all he had derived...
I watched him from my hiding place,
His daily battle known
The second that he'd won the chase
And thought he ate alone...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem