I howl for no moon
in anger against the madness
which manacled the ancestors
and, silencing their voices,
made this land become weak
and the aggressors meek.
For no moon I howl,
so I prowl alone.
Shall I hear this strong voices again?
Shall I start to bark and ravaging the mentors?
Shall I be punisher and apply justice?
I am just the wolf alone in the prairie,
I'm sure that if I gather the pack,
we can blow every door,
or else I'll be another sheep
wandering through peers
and will be the wolf no more.
The howl dies silent.
