Old cat worrying a twig.
Idle a while, I watch the
sleek, lithe killer toss the stick
with twitching concentration when
birds and bees and windborne seeds,
thought I, would satisfy her more.
Busily and bossily she gathered to
It moved; the twig stood up,
I rubbed my eyes,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem