One ancient Chinese sage was asked one day who or what he would like to be. The sage replied: A dead cat. Why? he was asked. And he replied: Because a dead cat has no price.
Now, my poem:
Healthy, relatively happy,
I am every dying dog
or cat
or other animal.
Every time you see a dead dog
or cat
on your way,
stop to spend some time in silence,
for you see me.
Stop if you ever breathed,
stop to honor us
for this that we lived
and died.
The sense of the poem is in the following:
A dead cat is more dear for me than You, as you are, big, hot, well-educated and zealous.
And any nestling on the palm of my hand is more dear for me than Your God.
A greenie here
What wonder?
