The Grimalkin
I had a black cat with a white chest, a beautiful tabby that slept
every day on my sofa. I went on a week´s winter holiday, and left
it snoozing, there was a cat flap and it could get out and find food
for itself, usually by meowing outside peoples kitchens.
When I came back the mouser was still sleeping, I thought it was
the long sleep so I put the cat in a shoe box and put it on top of
the fire, a sort of pyre. Moggy jumped out of the box its tail afire,
through the flap fled and stuck its tail in a snow drift.
The malkin lives in the woods wishes it were a jaguar, kill things that
is of lesser size then itself, but it never comes near the houses.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem