Songs. Little Wolf

On a naked cliff above the edge of sleep,
A little wolf sat weighing sins so deep.
Not dangerous at all, just lost and small,
He whimpered softly, longing home through all.

But chains of pain and evil held his throat,
They tore his skin, they never let him go.
And tears inside his giant animal eyes
Awoke both love and fear, compassion, cries.

Where are you from, my boy, so young and fair?
Where is your mother, why don’t you sleep there?
What are you punished for, why do you cry?
Are you not hungry? Answer me, don’t hide.

His eyes were wide with wisdom, sharp and old,
But human speech he no longer could hold.
Once he lived just like all of us alive,
One day he saved a soul so it survived.

He walks the edge, he tries again and more,
But blood still keeps him standing on that shore.
That blood he never managed to erase,
Those people doomed and lost by his own hand.

And pain keeps tearing open up his chest,
Whenever he escapes the dream at last.

The years went by, and evil slowly snapped
The final string inside his soul collapsed.
He sinned, he killed, he tortured, felt no love,
Destroyed, not saved — no mercy left above.

The suffering around began to please,
All came so easy, lawless, without cease.
One starless night, no moon above his head,
He chose a path more black than soul and dread.

With knife and gun and anger in his chest,
So young and beautiful, he killed the rest.
For money one, for love another fell,
And one for blood, its burning, living spell.

For money killed his aging mother dear,
For love the girl refused and disappeared.
His loyal friend, the last one standing near,
Collapsed in blackened snow, his end sincere.

Returning home, still drunk with dark delight,
He faced himself in horror, frozen tight.
He tried to wash the blood from hands and skin,
But it had sunk into his flesh within.

And suddenly on shoulders, face and back,
Grey fur broke through — no turning, no way back.
A savage pain bent all his human frame:
Before the mirror stood a wolf in shame.

His life flashed through his mind in burning lines,
He saw his childhood days and distant times.
How mother’s hand once touched his curls with care,
How she would call him home from evening air.

The flowers blue he gave the girl that day,
The one he killed, then threw her life away.
How with his friend he ran the roads of youth,
That hand in hand once held his fragile truth.

That starless night was torn by wild despair,
A howl of madness split the frozen air.
To flee the memory of all his crime,
He ran to forests, lost in endless time.

He reached an old cliff, tried to end it all,
To jump, forget, obey the final call.
But like a wall of glass and frozen flame,
Something won’t let him fall — forever same.

He walks the edge, he tries again and more,
But blood still keeps him standing on that shore.
That blood he never managed to erase,
Those people doomed and lost by his own hand.

And pain keeps tearing open up his chest,
Whenever he escapes the dream at last.