Rhubarb, my soft orange cat
Lies sleeping on the bed
His head curled tight
Against his chest
His tail twitches slowly
To a rhythm only he can hear.
Why can’t I be more like my cat?
He sleeps deeply, peacefully.
He doesn’t worry about today
Or tomorrow
He never stares in the mirror
To see how he looks.
He is what he is.
Does my cat know I envy him
In his approach to life
In his view of life-
To be who you are
And not concerned
How others see you?
Why can’t I be more like my cat?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem