“…Paw tracks outline the frozen powder…
Blows a howling blizzard as if whispering a cursing tale:
In the barren woods lay the remains ov’ many a deer’s marrow,
Blending in a shadow dancing under the fading winter Sun,
Water trickling down… Hardly will the frost give way!
Out of the den the Siberian tiger enters into its frozen kingdom,
Breathing in tune to remnants ov’ stillness,
Stark is the bellow rumbling through the valley… Warning:
“My reddish rusty stripped fur distinguishes my character,
The whiff ov’ my scent you shall never forget,
My territory as far as my fiery eyes can see,
Wait til’ I pounce on a prey ever so swiftly!
GROWL ! ”