Mirrors are not more silent <br />nor the creeping dawn more secretive; <br />in the moonlight, you are that panther <br />we catch sight of from afar. <br />By the inexplicable workings of a divine law, <br />we look for you in vain; <br />More remote, even, than the Ganges or the setting sun, <br />yours is the solitude, yours the secret. <br />Your haunch allows the lingering <br />caress of my hand. You have accepted, <br />since that long forgotten past, <br />the love of the distrustful hand. <br />You belong to another time. You are lord <br />of a place bounded like a dream.<br /><br />Jorge Luis Borges<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-cat/
