Kass. the cat.

in the most comfortable chair of my flat
there´s a feline waiting, and skillfull in that
when somebody comes, he´ll jump right in their feet
and starts chewing your toe, though his plate´s full of meat.
he doesn´t play ball with any ol´fool
or a violent brat of a neighbouring school
arriving from town I see fur somersaulting
my generous laugh he finds rather insulting
he´s demolished the sofa with speed of the light
I´m surprised it puts on a rather good fight
upon two - day -old food he looks with despise
at 4 in the morning he miaus you to rise
he has eyes of an angel when you´re missing a cookie
he´s got black belt in sleeping, he finds Garfield a rookie
that cat, during daytime as the devil himself
in the night blissfull sleep finds on my wardrobe shelf.

mu seinale jaapani keeli
igimuiste, kui lõhnas rohi
ning teadmata et ei tohi
on kirjutand sõna "Taifuun"
ühe argliku mõtleja käsi
ma mõtlen ta peale veelgi
see raudkõva seina aga püsib
mu elu ja olemist nüsib
ja isegi mitte taifuun
teda hõredaks piisavalt räsi
ja isegi mitte see tuul,
mis metsades puid kühmu surub
mis veeallgi kõrvades ulub
mõnest seinast jagu ei saa
sest see on nii kalkigiraske.
olgu sõna kuitahes suur
siin linnas saab ohe taifuunist
iga Paik aina tühjeneb ruumist
ning sügavalt hinganud maa
mattub murdmata lukkude vaske.