By: Paweł Markiewicz

I looked at the window of my villa
and it was midnight.
The brown cat meowed.
He is the guardian of many blissful melancholies.
He is the crimson memory of philosophers.
He is a signpost for golden-hearted poets.
I am tender ancient sage.
I am the poet of time.
I am a becharmed friend of the dawn.

I looked at the aperture of my home
and it was meek morn.
The black cat purred.
He is the protector of the soft, eternal treasure.
He is silver recollection from dazzling nature.
He is a sign of an ancient charming culture.
I am a primeval charm.
I am a lyrist of spell.
I am a companion full of hearts.

I looked at the casement of my habitat.
It was time – Blue Hours.
The fawn cat drank milk.
He is the custodian of musing, Dionysian legends.
He is the golden remembrance of philosophers.
He is an indication of the Golden Fleece.
I am prehistoric thoughts.
I am a bard from wizards.
I am familiar of Plato-cave.

May three cats be shrouded forever! – thus
in the tenderness of the stardust,
fallen in love with amaranthine-celestial Gods,
in afterglow of amazingly tender druids.