Who could find serenity in hunt?
Is voilence not affront?
Yet the hunter is in a peaceful balance
Between nature and its absence
You may bloody the forest floor
You may be draped in fur and more
You may stand in silence amidst whispering ripples
And a rod in hand, a bait at the end of a hook and slightly tipple
You may be a humble fisherman
You will be a hunter as long as you can