The Cat and the Poet Lore Books

Description

A book originally from the remote islands of the west.

Text

The Cat and the Poet

I and Pangur the white cat
each of us at his special art:
hunting mice is his pastime,
mine in turn the art of rhyme.
I love more than all renown
Silence and words written down:
Pangur the white cat envies me not,
To play with mice is his happy lot.
And if one should chance to pause,
Pangur will seize it in his claws,
Just as I, who hunt for lines,
May pounce upon a word at times.

While Pangur’s sharp eye ever falls
On any movement by the walls,
Ceaselessly I fix my gaze
On words and letters on the page.
When he pounces with sharp claws,
And seizes a mouse in his merciless jaws,
Meanwhile his master too may exult,
When he solves a line that is difficult.

Thus it goes, each to his art,
With no distress on either part.
Neither has an axe to grind,
Kindred spirits with like minds.
By day, by night, our work progresses:
The less of mice, the more of verses.
Day and night, Pangur hones his skill,
As I hope by diligence I will.