The Lynx

Furry spearsOn its ears The sharpest clawsInside its paws Greedy cat's eyesFlames in disguise Not a rustle, not a breezeAs a herd of deer freeze Hungry,Stretched bow lies in waitThe beastTakes out its clawsWith clenched jawsToo late! Poor deer!Falls without a soundDeath is stranglingOn the ground The lynx always seems to smileHow come it's so bloody vile?

by Passionaria Stoicescu (b. 1946)