we both gained together

Leave the cat outdoors 

    alone in the eyeless night, 

under the sky's pitched height— 

    I would never do that. 

Two eyes cigarette-bright

    faraway in the deep dark,

its little cat-heart afright—

    I could never do that.

Combed whiskers twitching,

    and claws drawn for a fight.

Kittenish trust turned to spite—

    I would never do that.

For I took in the cat's mind,

    and the cat watched tight

my mind sliding into sight,

    and we both gained together.

I turned half-cat alright;

    so too the cat turned man.

Break up a kinship that tight?

    I could never do that.

An ancient feline hatred

for the human race alight

in his eyes: to sense that

    would torment me day and night.

[Seán Pádraig Ó Ríordáin {an Ríordánach} {1916-1977} 'The Cat', from Selected Poems—Rogha Dánta. Translated from the Gaelic {above} by Mary O'Donoghue.]