At midnight, falling helplessly asleep
As minutes slip by so slowly,
I always feel fondled by a black object deep
Ah, it is the cat whose tail goes curly.
I wonder how I can respond to her impulse,
The impulse to make me behold her face;
The ominous whiskers, however, make my heart pulse
Throb as she unties my shoes' lace!
Oh, uttering complaints of hundred nights!
Ever since the right woman I was amazed at ;
I have struggled hard never to put out her light,
Especially when she pays me a visit as a black cat.
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