Lupus and La Lune

Once, in a realm of dreams,

A lady fell in love;

And in her ardour glowed so,

She dimmed the stars above.


Those little balls of fire,

Shadowed, were enraged;

Swore vengeance on the lady,

And ancient furies bade.


“Take away her glow,

Her happiness, too bright,

Is masking all our faces;

Is clouding all our lights. ”


“Shroud her in darkness,

So, her lover won’t see

Her; and go away forever,

And her happiness with he.”


And so the ancient furies,

Enrobed the lady in black;

Her lover, come to meet her, called,

But wasn’t answered back.


In despair he asked for her,

On earth, and of heaven;

He cried her name aloud,

Again and again in vain.


His laments floated by,

And haunted all the earth;

All heaven was robbed of joy,

Creation denied of mirth.


And then the Gods of yore

Stirred in their thrones of gold;

Asked of night the woes,

And the sad tale told.


“T’is wrong, what’s been done,

Unto her and unto him. ”

The Gods of yore decreed,

The gods, all looking grim.


“Then free her from her cage,

Restore my love to me.”

He pleaded the Gods with tears,

He pleaded them on his knees.


A somber silence fell,

Night whispered “Never, never”;

“Once enrobed in fury’s black,

One’s enrobed forever, ever.”


What hopes he had were gone,

And his life followed too,

His corpse, heartbroken, lay,

‘Fore all the Gods to rue.


His cries, his calls of love,

His laments and threnody,

Muted, still hung in air,

Seeking out his lady.


In that doleful silence,

The Gods in heaven, shamed,

Morphed them and their love,

And in immortality framed.


Placed was she in skies,

For fifteen nights in veil;

For the rest fifteen,

Her dark robe was to pale.


On the tenth and five of nights

Of her freedom, she would glow,

Brighter than all the stars,

Her light spread high and low.


Her lover; his soul roams wild;

Shall know his love’s up high

From her light; shall lift his head,

And call out to the skies.


Parted by heaven and earth,

The lady and her love thus meet,

Once, at night, each month,

When the wolf, the full moon greets.




One of nature’s famous mysteries is why wolves howl at the moon. A lone wolf’s ululations to the full moon is a sight both haunting and mesmeric. There are numerous legends associating the moon with the wolf in all the pagan religions and indigenous cultures of the world. I heard of one such in a popular movie (although it was a wolverine there instead of the wolf) (Ref: X-men Origins: Wolverine. 2009). It is a belief among the Native American Seneca tribes that the “wolf sung the moon into existence” (Ref: The full moon of the month of January is frequently called the Wolf-Moon in the USA. (Ref: Such legends and lore, if collected, would perhaps fill a volume, which shall keep us enthralled and amazed, until Science comes forward with a perfectly prosaic theory explaining the night time serenades of the lone wolf for the serene Selene. Until then, let us keep wondering why the wolf sings to the moon and write poetries, like mine above, answering that enigma.




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