HOME | DD

Description
Rakuen

If you’ve never heard the whispers, the shifting of the game,
Then you’ll never know who’s calling you, out there beyond the rain.
You’ll never know the feeling of the north wind in your fur,
Nor of the cold white snow below, so obdurate, so pure.
The earth cries out in howls and barks; I heed Her call alone,
Across the plains of man’s domain, of gunpowder, of stone.

Not everyone can hear Her call, and so the men take aim,
Their bullets pierce my flank like knives, they set my soul aflame.
But there it is, just out of reach, and so for ages I endure
This hell on earth, this treachery, these insults, dog and cur.
I know it’s there, I see it now, beyond their hearts of ice,
The special place that calls to me, my heaven; paradise.

My pads are thick, my muzzle clean, my pace caref’lly maintained,
And yet—so strong—it draws on me, this weariness, this strain.
These ancient lands of leaves and grass, of oak and pink and fir,
Call out my name through whispered gasps, the heart of Nature’s stir.
And I alone respond to Her, rejected with a scowl,
From dogs and men and life itself, a lone wolf on the prowl.

Description
Rakuen

If you’ve never heard the whispers, the shifting of the game,
Then you’ll never know who’s calling you, out there beyond the rain.
You’ll never know the feeling of the north wind in your fur,
Nor of the cold white snow below, so obdurate, so pure.
The earth cries out in howls and barks; I heed Her call alone,
Across the plains of man’s domain, of gunpowder, of stone.

Not everyone can hear Her call, and so the men take aim,
Their bullets pierce my flank like knives, they set my soul aflame.
But there it is, just out of reach, and so for ages I endure
This hell on earth, this treachery, these insults, dog and cur.
I know it’s there, I see it now, beyond their hearts of ice,
The special place that calls to me, my heaven; paradise.

My pads are thick, my muzzle clean, my pace caref’lly maintained,
And yet—so strong—it draws on me, this weariness, this strain.
These ancient lands of leaves and grass, of oak and pink and fir,
Call out my name through whispered gasps, the heart of Nature’s stir.
And I alone respond to Her, rejected with a scowl,
From dogs and men and life itself, a lone wolf on the prowl.