A coat of screams and yells lines a rug of ember,
Circle surrounding him and mane that at him tears.
When he perceives the pole wrung by his panic fears,
He climbs up to the top and hopes to recover.
There he sees roofs and fields, recognizes voices.
But fatigue at him gnaws and weight on him presses
And his claws, giving way, leave the wooden shelter...
The blaze on him closes under bursts of laughter.
Block of quiet darkness or lowering billow,
You learnt from their hatred escape and watchfulness.
Halloos and torches coat your persistent stillness
And the split opal stone where time ceases to flow
Mirrors terrifying torments of long ago.
Michel Galiana
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cat-wild-cat/
