As Sufa's silver-amber eye
With stately silent dignity
Traversed the court of former kings
He saw his visage in the pond
And he smiled.
He shed his peaceful silver light
On wide-trunked ancient baobabs
And ever flowing seas of grass,
Upon the dying and the born
A huntress speaking gentle words
Assured her children of her love
And met their glances with the eyes
That only joy and beauty see
In a cub.
The milk that flowed from deep inside
The cubs with satisfaction drew
With soft contented murmuring
And paws that felt the quiet pulse
Of her life.
-- John Burkitt