monet's cat, marcel proust,
used to nap in the kitchen window
then jump down just like that
And tiptoe out to the garden,
lilac- and lavender-scented,
to catch fat goldfish from the lily pond
afterwards he'd sit in the shade of a weeping willow
Licking his paws
smoothing them swiftly over his face and whiskers
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your cat series is delectable. I don't think I will be able to look at art by Van Gogh, Rodin or Monet without thinking of their respective cats roaming the landscapes.