When you hear the night-owl,
he's saying: essence, hunger,
instinct. What makes him call
from the black forest, his voice
low and lovely like a siren?
He obeys the duty of his body,
his wide, strong wings, his large
moon-like eyes. And when he swoops
tracking the shivering rabbit,
tearing its flesh with his beak
he carries his noble body
back to the mystery of trees.