Little Owl


Little owl, what soul have you?
Do you feel it when you are flying freely in the air?
Or when you catch your prey with fatal claws?
Or when you furiously fuss with your mother
Scared to fly for the first time?
Little owl, what soul have you?

Little owl, does your soul get torn when down your trees go,
And when crushed down, to a new home you must be bound?
Or when the snow your prey hides under a blinding-white blanket?
Does your soul feel the pain of the hunted brothers and alone you remain
Standing on your branch?
Little owl, what soul have you?

Little man, I will tell thee.
I have a fierce and proud soul that haunts your nights with my eerie cry.
This soul provides sharp eyes that pierce across distances.
This soul provides strong wings that cut the night‘s blackness.
This soul accompanies me during incessantly repeating lonely nights.
Little man, do I have a soul?

But Little man, my soul fears
The sight of falling trees that deafens the forest.
The sound of bullets off your murderous guns.
The deadly metal that strike my fellow brothers.
Then I find myself alone on the tree, asking thee
Little man, what soul have you?