A tomcat I desired to be
with upward tail, a stripy coat,
long claws, long whiskers, hissy throat,
with eyes, one green, one brown, you see.
Precisely when the snow of night
towards the sleep of down is creeping,
me, up on top of roofs in flight
the moon will howl in senseless weeping.
Then, seven housewives, devilish spree,
will hurl their seven stones at me
and will, in silence, cuss and weep,
because I howl and stop their sleep.
But from the height of week’s disasters,
I’ll grin a-howling, dark and vile:
I love the place, and not the masters,
like dogs, who for a bone will smile.
The seven housewives, then, with glee
will hurl their seven stones at me,
and I will howl, and howl anew
until the moon won’t be in view.
A tomcat I desired to be
with upward tail, with stripy coat,
long claws, long whiskers, hissy throat
with eyes, one green, one brown, you see.
When early rays the day assail,
I’d wander giddy; where to next?
I’d tie a tin onto my tail
to rattle on the streets, perplexed.
Besmirched and tired in a while,
my gut from growling to divert,
I’m gathered up, I spit my bile,
and drag their linen through the dirt.
When on the streets I gallivant,
If rats annoy me with their rant
I’ll spit, I’ll spit, and then I’ll cry
My back I’ll camber hard and high.
The cats from seven neighborhoods
I’d chase around and to the woods,
a kitten each to cub for me
with eyes, one green, one brown, you see.
Forgotten when I’ll die in vain
up near the tavern in the slum
laid in the way of fists to drain
the sour swill, the vile scum.
“Eh... what’s a life... out from your tent
let’s dance again, don’t jump with dread...
look down the drain... and don’t lament
the tomcat dead, the tomcat dead...”
(from the volume Testament - 400 de ani de poezie românească - 400 Years of Romanian Poetry - Daniel Ionita - editor and principal translator, assisted by Daniel Reynaud, Adriana Paul and Eva Foster - Minerva Publishing- 2019)
Translator: Daniel Ionita
see more poems written by: Nichita Stănescu
