The wolf is a warrior, standing his ground

He knows when to fight, he knows where to hide

The ground is bathed in a glorious night

But his face remains enshadowed

The moon hangs up high, like a beacon of hope

Reflecting the fire in his eyes

His will is of iron, his beauty like ice

Yet his heart is of warmth and compassion

He stands with no other, but he is never alone

For the sorrowful night is his friend

He has no one to love, yet he never saddens

For his dreams will stay with him forever