An old Indian was sitting with his grandson at the campfire. It was now dark and the fire crackled as the flames licked the sky.
The old man said after a while of silence: ".. Do you know how I feel sometimes it is as if were going to fight as two wolves in my heart each one of them is vengeful, aggressive and cruel, the other other hand, is loving, gentle and compassionate."
"Which of the two will win the battle for your heart?" asked the boy.
"The wolf I feed." replied the old man.
source unknown,
translated from English
Matched by a short poem of mine:
translated from English
Matched by a short poem of mine:
The Wolf Robe
I long in the world Gedrehe
for warmth and comfort,
but no matter where I see:
Nothing but false gaiety.
people who mistreat to
ruled hatred is rampant,
this cold makes me feel cold:
icicles in wolf's clothing.
I never want to cool down so
feel, however, Frost and greed,
'd split the block of ice in me
the hated wolf in me.
I long in the world Gedrehe
for warmth and comfort,
but no matter where I see:
Nothing but false gaiety.
people who mistreat to
ruled hatred is rampant,
this cold makes me feel cold:
icicles in wolf's clothing.
I never want to cool down so
feel, however, Frost and greed,
'd split the block of ice in me
the hated wolf in me.
© Text & Photo: Simon Felix Geiger, 2010
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