Old man, I’m so sorry,
Your four furry feet
No longer tread the earth,
Your maddening purr
No longer sets off earthquakes
Thrilling through my soul.
It’s odd, I guess, but I will look
For you each time I open
The front door, where you,
So like a faithful dog,
Would be waiting loudly.
But you’re a cat, a god of sorts,
At least to ancient reckoning,
And we had such a partnership
I must carry forth, alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem