A small stream that twists and turns around,
A wolf walks beside it, not making a sound.
The stream twists again, oh the path it might take,
and beside this small stream, a lone wolf awaits.
He looks to the sky, and lets out a cry,
a sweet melody that he gives to the night.
He sends the sweet song, a gentle awroo,
and then the song ends, and he looks from the moon.
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