at full-stretch

The cat worships her body, 

just loves to unravel; 

when she shook herself tonight, 

it rained cats by the catful. 

 

She turns from cat into cat 

at the stir of a paw; 

more like a wheel than a cat, 

shifting to and fro. 

 

She expresses herself, 

sheds a catalogue of skins; 

at full-stretch, she counts 

herself and preens. 

 

Tonight I've seen scores 

of incatations; 

and still to come, 

not scores but millions. 

 

[Seán Ó Ríordáin {an Ríordánach} {1916-1977} 'Incatation'/'Catchollú' {trans. Frank Sewell}, from Selected Poems {Rogha Dánta}] 

 

Is breá leis an gcat a corp, 

Is aoibhinn léi é shearradh, 

Nuair a shearr sí í féin anocht 

Do tharla cait 'na gceathaibh. 

 

Téann sí ó chat go cat 

Ándúiseacht as a ballaibh, 

Fé mar nár chat í ach roth 

De chait ag teacht is ag imeacht. 

 

í féin atá sí ag rá, 

Is doirteann sí slua arb ea í 

Nuair a shearrann an t-iomlán, 

Á comhaireamh féin le gaisce. 

 

Tá na fichidí catchollú 

Feicthe agamsa anocht, 

Ach ní fichidí ach milliúin 

''Tá le searradh fós as a corp.