A midwinter’s night, no one’s awake.
In the grass, a silent creature lies.
Its presence alone makes its target quake
Along with the gaze of its yellow eyes.
The hunter springs forward, light on its feet.
Its teeth reflect the light of the moon.
And, although right now it experiences defeat,
Mark my words, it will hunt again soon.
Because every dog will have its day,
This wolf tonight will catch no prey.
But mark my words, it will hunt soon
Under the light of the frozen moon.
