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hunting poetry

The sun is in the firmament 
the wild boar lies in the bush and sleeps. 
But when the moon lights up the night 
the pig plows through fields and meadows.
The farmer will be afraid and anxious 
what scoundrel is there? 
The sow is far too colorful now, 
the huntsman comes with his dog.
To protect the harvest 
he has to use his gun. 
A loud bang breaks through the night 
the wild boar is killed quickly.
The halali sounds from the horn, 
A noble grain is now served. 
Because on the way after the shot 
Rüdemann is a treat!
– Jan Hrdlicka, Hamburg 2020
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