With head thrown back and mouth agape,
the big, gray wolf begins to speak.
Not in words, not in yells,
but in one long mournfully howl.
Deep from his chest it bursts forth,
filling the mountains of the North.
Into misty valleys and over rushing streams,
and across great, silent plains,
comes the howl of the wolf.
Blown by the wind through the night,
up to the sky where the moon shines bright,
filling the starry heavens with its might,
comes the howl of the wolf.
Again and again it sounds forth,
the most beautiful sound Nature can offer,
is the howl of the wolf.
