My brother has a new cat- Carol.
Hugely fond of Carol
he calls her 'the cats' meow'
'She's amazing' he claims, 'as a cat'.
Springing from his lap, tinsel-bound, she
lights, looks back, purrs 'yes, I'm all that'.
'John', I say,
'let us be seasonably clear.
'Carol is not both cat and cats meow-
she's the agent of a sound, that's all.
Sitting in his rocker, he admits it-
what more can he say?
Together, we watch.
Charmed by the tree baubles,
Carol bats them to swing.
Tail twitching, she watches them closely,
her pupils slender ornaments. 'Meow'.
'John, I was wrong', I dared to say, after a bit,
'In many ways,
Carol is both cat and cat's meow'.
'I told you as much', says my brother, proudly.
Looking back, Carol agrees. 'Meow',
and returns to her show,
a tinsel slip behind her on the rug.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem