He howls in the mountains,up there in his den,he suffers no pain,but frets how to tear at the flock.
The beast bares his teeth like a dog,the wretched wolf wanders up and down,his dream is grand,but his belly is completely empty.
To go down to the village,the thought suddenly struck him,but the long-tailed hound,he could not help but recall.
And the old shepherd’s shotgun,he pictured hanging on the wall,though it is no easy task,to cross even a single bridge.
His thoughts stretched on,his empty belly rumbles,the wolf may change his coat,but never forgets his trade.
