Old fat parish cat
wears a church spire for a hat
wears a white-collar
with a gold disk for his namesake
around his black nape
now, what do you think of that?
The mice he guides
them to their pews
in their piety
they all look bemused,
as he reads them,
the Lord's sweet angelic muse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
not frightening, but slightly shaking the muse of the rational readers, who may think out of box to find out the truth for themselves..well done..