The lion’s roar,
The grunt of a boar,
A bird’s flying,
A wolf’s crying.
All of these remind me of the jungle,
Getting destroyed like an infection too fungal,
I don’t understand why people don’t try,
To hear the loud and painful jungle’s cry
They cut, they chop, they hack.
Cutting it without thinking, without turning back,
Those trees in which poor animals stay,
Are being cut, taken away.
Why, why, why?
Do so many jungles die,
Why do people not try,
To hear that cry, that painful jungle’s cry.