Behind the bushes

A black streak creeps

Low

And horizontally 

Over the ground at sunrise

Round shapes filled with tasty intestines

Running over the chilly fields of

Siberia and Junggar Basin

You are descendants of 

Brave victims

Your small fangs and claws

Could not protect you 

But go with being devoured

Go with being decreased

Although you are born 

For birds and wolves

With getting around reason

MULTIPLY  and  FILL

With going beyond providence

RUN  and  RUN