Pangur Bán by Anonymous

I came across this poem today and instantly fell in love with it.

Pangur Bán is a poem written in Irish Gaelic in the 9th century C.E., and composed in what is now southern Germany.  

The author is unknown, but it is thought he was an Irish Monk who worked as a scribe employed to copy books by hand.  It becomes obvious from the text of the poem that the author loved both his work and his cat Pangur the White.  

Eight clever stanzas draw parallels between the author (and his work) and his cat (and his work): hunting, practicing, enjoying, capturing, trying, and enjoying some more. 

Having said that, I'll let the poem do its own talking.

Pangur Bán

I and Pangur Bán, my cat
'Tis a like task we are at;
Hunting mice is his delight
Hunting words I sit all night.

Better far than praise of men
'Tis to sit with book and pen;
Pangur bears me no ill will,
He too plies his simple skill.

'Tis a merry thing to see
At our tasks how glad are we,
When at home we sit and find
Entertainment to our mind.

Oftentimes a mouse will stray
In the hero Pangur's way:
Oftentimes my keen thought set
Takes a meaning in its net.

'Gainst the wall he sets his eye
Full and fierce and sharp and sly;
'Gainst the wall of knowledge I
All my little wisdom try.

When a mouse darts from its den,
O how glad is Pangur then!
O what gladness do I prove
When I solve the doubts I love!

So in peace our tasks we ply,
Pangur Bán, my cat, and I;
In our arts we find our bliss,
I have mine and he has his.

Practice every day has made
Pangur perfect in his trade;
I get wisdom day and night
Turning darkness into light.

(Translation by Robin Flower (1881-1946))