"My child, - she said, - you're growing
By my warming heart,
Attentive ears and tender hands.
In fact, I know you better than your mother.
It feels though, that you're smothered
You're always raging, always raving —
It makes you difficult for me to bear"
-My moon, I pray you never pity me!
The wolf born pup that grows amongst the dogs,
Will always aim to feast upon the sheep.