Cat, By Shu Yu Poem by Denis Mair
Cat, By Shu Yu
Again at the hour of midnight
Like a changeling born of an angel and a demon
A long breath followed by a pant, a yowl then a sigh
Such a plaintive keening
Holding nothing back, a shrill and ragged whine
Innocent yet jaded, instinctive yet deliberate
Mellow yet urgent, an exhalation followed by a gasp
Perhaps a note of simmering resentment
Does such a cry come from creature mired in lust
Or from a female soul languishing in an empty bed?
Is it an angel's aria...or a demon's nightmare?
More terribly, it is a human-like voice falling somewhere between
It also seems like a ceremony
Handed down since ancient times
That pair of emerald eyes in darkness has the look
Of a priest who makes offerings to the dead
Or summons up willpower in living hearts
The voice comes from deep in the throat;
More than that it is driven
By a force outside the body
It comes from within the cat's awareness,
But even more from outside of its awareness
Where uncanny paradoxes are resolved.
It is religion in sound
A performance...also a divination of things to come
By a singer who specializes in spine-tingling melodies.
At daybreak it hides away, like the lifting of mist
Not to get away from light, but to be with darkness
Yet it is only a cat
It is hard to connect those night sounds to what we see by day,
Maybe this is why the cat is so mellow-tempered by day
So languorous and quiet
A cat has nine lives, and I believe it
But do not look straight into its eyes
It does not want to exchange glances with you
You are only a shape in outline, passing before its eyes
tr. by Denis Mair
Thank you for translating this treasure of a poem- - - if you hadn't I would never had the benefit of reading how a poem could and should be written. I think I see the magic of the translator at work here behind the scenes! ! ! ! ! ! ! It and you get a 10+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
cats have an unusual range of sounds. I can usually read them. The one that alerts me is a sort of pained yowl. There follows an attempt to bite my hand or attack my ankles. This attack is unprovoked and thankfully quite rare. It's like Pscycho's mother. It goes a little mad sometimes. I usually beat a hasty retreat. Five minutes later all is forgotten! But the inner wildness is there. I don't think I've read a better poem about our feline friends. They never cease to fascinate me and your poem describes this in detail and with such accuracy. It's going on my favourite poems' list for sure. Tom Billsborough
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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6/4/2024 6:20:56 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A fascinating poem..thank you for the translation Denis. When my cat was passing away he had awoken and cried out in a distressed sound I had never heard before that still haunts me. I'm sure this poet writes of that similar sound that is driven by a force outside the body.