Die - One doesn't do that to a cat. For what's a cat to do in an empty apartment. Climb up the walls. Rub up against the furniture. Nothing seems changed here, yet it"s still changed. Nothing's been moved, yet it seems pushed back. And the light no longer comes on in the evenings Footsteps can be heard on the stairs, but not the ones. The hand that puts fish into the bowl is not the one that used to, either.
Something does not begin at its usual time. Something doesn"t take place as it should. Someone was here, and was, and then suddenly disappeared and now stubbornly is not. All the closets have been inspected. All the shelves run across. The carpet has been squeezed under and checked out. Even the commandment has been broken and the papers have been scattered. What else is there to do but sleep and wait. Oh, let him come back, let him show his face. Then he"ll learn the lesson that one doesn"t do that to a cat. Walk toward him with feigned reluctance slowly on one"s very offended paws. No leaps or squeals, at least to begin with. Wisława Szymborska trans. Piotr Malysz