I love to smell the jasmine blooming in the night
I love to hide in the darkness
The voices laugh in the background
As I blend in behind the noisy sound of rubbing wings
I am safe in my jungle
Here I am king
Lizards warm themselves holding close to the pavement
Watching ever so carefully around them for a threat
A coarse meal but a nice trophy to show off
Finally I fix my eyes on my prey
Drawn away by my instinct
A jumpy white thing enticing me to pounce
I leap to the left it eludes me
To the right I catch it but no reward
I cannot kill this prize
How shall I impress the one who feeds me?
Show myself worthy of the attention I am shown?
Suddenly a child jumps into view holding a stick
Attached to it the white thing that moved oh so quick
I am no longer a king to him a play thing
Its time to go inside we’re both being called
Christopher!
… Baghira!
Bring the cat in, it’s getting late
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem