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 task 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.

– From the ninth-century Irish poem, Pangur Bán, translated by Robin Flower

Sleek black fur, fuzzy tonka bean, bronze amber and yellow bergamot, black patchouli, honeyed chestnut, and pumpkin incense.

 

Art by Drew Rausch!