4
He waits inside the caverned bear,
among the salmon, in the hare .
The falcon knows him, and the shark.
He even tunnels through the dark
burrowing into mouldy ground
to plow a night where sight and sound
are unconceived and inconceivable.
No life is unretrievable
to him, who drums the earth with hooves
or makes cicadas fill the groves
throbbing in time to his ascent.
The forest is his instrument.
Dying in the panther's claws
to yawn again in his own jaws,
lord of animals , if you're there ,
save your children from despair!
5
Have I abandoned my intent,
invoked the very one I meant
to shun, determined not to call
before my back's against the wall,
who'll sniff me out, the famous hound
(but spelled the other way around)
who has a nostril for decay,
who'll catch my drift before I say
what's on my mind, and reappear?
No doubt he's lurking somewhere near .
6
Come hunting in the vibrant grass.
Herds are grazing, beasts en masse.
The burning sun of Africa
still dispenses the old thrills,
the big-time theatricals
and we can still afford to pay
for there's a balance in the blanching bone,
that nothing lives or dies alone .
