The Snow Leopard runs away,
Fast along on that snowy day,
He runs along with his prey
Among the trees
And the rivers which they may
Never see. His land, his home,
With its bright colored trees
Leads out to the bright
And unsteady colored seas,
Or at best when he lies upon
The hearth, and looks up to
The high star filled sky,
Then he wishes he will never
Die. So he waits and waits
Because he may be right,
This way very well be his last