"To a cat" by Jorge Luis Borges
No mirrors are quieter
no more furtive the adventurous dawn;
you are, in the moonlight, that panther
who is given to us spotted from afar.
By an indecipherable work of a divine
decree, we seek you in vain;
more remote than the Ganges and West,
yours is the solitude, yours the secret.
Your haunch allows the lingering
caress of my hand. You have accepted,
from eternity that is already forgotten,
the love of the apprehensive hand.
You are in another time. You are the owner
of a closed ambience like a dream.