A tiger is behind the tree of thrones,
He tries to sit down in front of the desert.
There is no forest of greenness,
He is thirsty of flesh meats,
Has already seen a view of a reef of sand
How interpenetrate in to the jungle,
He has also seen his appetite
Going towards the sea.
Neither has he cried
Nor he has laughed in the way.
He crunches the parts of his body
On the sands of the desert,
Neither he dies or lives,
swims only in the river of own blood.
Who has stolen his eyes of wildness ,
Boldness of strength,
He is watching the sky of ancillary hunger.
The scenery of Depredation of his fates.
There is a jungle of cement, dust, and steel
The boast of humanity,
Who can see,
There is a tiger of perpetuity.
A tiger can write in blow of wind,
In water, in the way of life,
On the tree, in the darkness of night,
In the day,
“I am a tiger.”