Le tudná valaki ezeket a verseket fordítani nekem? (nem tudom, jó a téma)

WOLF-First Wild Dog

by Charles W. Russell - 1997

Howling high on a mountain top,

Sending shivers up my spine,

Stands a lonely sentinel

Calling to others of his kind.

The last of a vanishing breed.

His crime -- the need to eat.

His mate has a liter waiting,

For Dad to bring home some meat.

Ranchers say he's a threat

To the little ones in their herd.

But to hunt him to extinction

Is meaningless and absurd.

A way has to be found for all

God's creatures to coexist.

To bring harmony and justice

To Wolves, and Gorillas in the mist.

So, before you condemn him,

Or shoot him -- even worse

Remember the Wolf, like Indians

Inhabited this land first.

The Wolf-King's Lament

by Francisco de Borja Roca - 1999

An old, grey-maned King am I,

Barking my gruff orders under Orion's sky

And, beneath my throne of dew and stone

My people, all sinew and bone,

Flashing fangs and eyes of smold'ring coals,

Haunched on brawny hinds they do attend me.

Ah, my soul is gnarled, like gnarled the tree

I nightly choose for blessed sleep;

Aye, the Hunt has tired me-

'Tis only Time's matter

Till a brash whelp's challenge

Brings me 'neath the turf of my shady fief.

Yet I was strong once, if still it matters;

Aye, my quarters taut, my shadow lean and gaunt

Yet brimm'd with power- unlike now, so much more tame,

My ribs a bony rigging

For my ragg餏 scar-creased frame.

They have called me Heather-Sceptered, Oak-Garbed,

Star-Crowned Ruler of the Hunt.

Yet look ye now... where is this night-caped regnant?

Nothing but a weak, starving bag

Holding the bones of former days am I,

Howling former glories to the Moon and stars-

At times I think the Moon howls back,

The white-skinned, tight-snouted bitch all mock'ry and jest

Upon my old age, as I curl upon my back for wanted rest

Under the shade of my gnarled oak-tree.

The time is come- can you not hear the howling?

The Hunt is called again...

this time without me.