SUEÑO DE GATOS

Qué bonito duerme un gato,
duerme con patas y peso,
duerme con sus crueles uñas,
y con su sangre sanguinaria,
duerme con todos los anillos
que como círculos quemados
construyeron la geología
de una cola color de arena.

Quisiera dormir como un gato
con todos los pelos del tiempo,
con la lengua del pedernal,
con el sexo seco del fuego
y después de no hablar con nadie,
tenderme sobre todo el mundo,
sobre las tejas y la tierra
intensamente dirigido
a cazar las ratas del sueño.

He visto cómo ondulaba,
durmiendo, el gato: corría
la noche en él como agua oscura,
y a veces se iba a caer,
se iba tal vez a despeñar
en los desnudos ventisqueros,
tal vez creció tanto durmiendo
como un bisabuelo de tigre
y saltaría en las tinieblas
tejados, nubes y volcanes.
Duerme, duerme, gato nocturno
con tus ceremonias de obispo,
y tu bigote de piedra:
ordena todos nuestros sueños,
dirige la oscuridad
de nuestras dormidas proezas
con tu corazón sanguinario
y el largo cuello de tu cola.

Poem by Pablo Neruda

     Cat's Dream

How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
sleeps with all the rings--
a series of burnt circles--
which have formed the odd geology
of its sand-colored tail.

I should like to sleep like a cat,
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue rough as flint,
with the dry sex of fire;
and after speaking to no one,
stretch myself over the world,
over roofs and landscapes,
with a passionate desire
to hunt the rats in my dreams.

I have seen how the cat asleep
would undulate, how the night
flowed through it like dark water;
and at times, it was going to fall
or possibly plunge into 
the bare deserted snowdrifts.
Sometimes it grew so much in sleep
like a tiger's great-grandfather,
and would leap in the darkness over
rooftops, clouds and volcanoes.

Sleep, sleep cat of the night,
with episcopal ceremony
and your stone-carved moustache.
Take care of all our dreams;
control the obscurity
of our slumbering prowess
with your relentless heart
and the great ruff of your tail.

Translation by Alastair Reid


You can never go wrong with a poem by Pablo Neruda, so here's a poem by him about, of course, cats. I put in the Spanish version because those who can read Spanish should experience it in that language since it is the way it was originally written, and there's nothing like reading something the way the writer made it. For those who can't read Spanish, I'm sorry. But that is why I put the English translation for it, and it is a good translation, so I'm sure it can still be enjoyed. Cats sleep for about seventy percent of their lives, so of course if one writes a poem about a cat it makes sense to write about it sleeping. I think this poem does a beautiful job in capturing the nature of cats. It shows even as it sleeps these animals are still these beasts with no fear of killing. Neruda says, "sleeps with its wicked claws and its unfeeling blood." Even at rest, it will not separate from its weapons and instinct. I'm a believer that cats dream, and kind of like Neruda describes, I think they dream of being powerful. "Sometimes it grew so much in sleep like a tiger's great-grandfather, and would leap in the darkness over rooftops, clouds, and volcanoes." I think in time of sleep, cats truly don't stop being ruthless, tough, predators, nor do they need to stop. I think one of the best things about a cat sleeping is that although they are these beasts in there minds while sleeping, they can still look so peaceful and innocent. There's such calmness in them that contrasts the intensity of hunting, and I strangely find beauty in that.