I think of all these roaming cats,
Some robed in grey, some sporting spats,
I wonder at their nightly prowls,
Do they meet and challenge, fight, or dodge the owls?
And when we hear their trembling yowls
Are they victims, or committing fouls?
And if we knew their gruesome tales,
Would it be their love, or ours that fails?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem