The owl sings its cry
Into the dark of night.
A dove coos to its nestling
A song of pure delight.
The forest is falling asleep,
While the moon is coming to rise.
The wolf casts his gaze on sleeping fawns,
But willingly spares their lives.
'Tis the rhythm the forest goes by.
The noon, the dusk, the dawn.
Do not disturb the pattern.
Lest all life suddenly be gone.