In the snowy lakes' frail mornings,
In the greige-shining cold mornings,
In the suns, shivers of winter,
I am the lone she-wolf.
I was roving on my war tracts,
Hidden, hunting on my known tracks,
Suddenly, on a stone base,
Appeared before me a big dog
And I, she-wolf, I, the queen,
And I, hunger, and I, instinct,
I laid down my wild beast's'head
Onto the big dog's furry hair.
And the dog, in the chill midday,
Followed my path and my hunt
And I thought I saw in his'eyes
The reflection of a passing flash.
He must have been really mad
For following me in the snow.
Being just a dog, thought himself wolf
And got his paw into my trap.
But I, she-wolf, I, the queen,
And I, hunger, and I, instinct,
I opened the iron trap
And bit his dog's thigh.
But, in the lair, in sweet twilight,
At the wolf's hour, in the palace,
Lying on our bed of thorns,
I, she-wolf, I licked his wounds.
In the snowy lakes' frail mornings,
In the greige-shining cold mornings,
In the suns, shivers of winter,
I remain the lone she-wolf.
All alone, alone, alone...