Смерть охотника

The Hunted and the Damned.


Through the forests, through the mire, 
Hounds are driven, lost in chase. 
Fangs of fear and eyes of fire
Echoed cries now haunt this place. 

See the hunter’s twisted grin, 
Master here, but meek at home. 
While he craves another skin, 
His wife finds love where he’s unknown. 

With trembling hands, he takes his aim, 
His breath is thick, his hunger wild. 
Oh, if the wind could twist his frame 
And send him spinning, lost, defiled. 

But beasts are not so weak and meek
Their vengeance sharp, their fury raw. 
The hunted turn, the hunted speak, 
And tear apart with tusk and claw. 

A film was made, a tale was spun, 
Uploaded for the world to see
A hunter weeping, all undone, 
Before the end came, swift and free. 

Let it be known, let cowards learn, 
To kill for sport is to invite 
A fate where beasts will watch you burn, 
And feast upon your screams at night. 

The lioness walks proud and free, 
The stag lifts high his mighty crown. 
And one less wretch defiles the trees
The wild shall dance till sun goes down. 

--- 


Рецензии