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How pure is the air I breathe
On this early Winter night,
What a stainless landscape I contemplate.
Twinkling stars like myriads of ice drops
Held in the crystalline darkness,
They watch over my lonely path
Like guardian deities of old.

Noble,
Noble wolf.

Boldly alone,
Wild minstrel of the full moon am I!
The furtive owls are my companions,
They sing along with me:
"How can the vision of this snow-veiled realm
Bring such a warmth to the heart?"

Chief of the hunter tribes,
The grim mountain is my throne.
This lunar song of mine
Paves the way for the dawn to come.

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