But why is she looking troublesome
And is the difficulty
Expressed in her face
As bitter as almonds
Eaten out of season
Or in the translation?
Is there some slow mistake
As difficult as the green-black
Maze pattern of the kimono
And its red undercurrents
Matching the bell ring
Around the neck
Of the strangely human faced
White cat?
There seems to be some mistake of action
Between the understanding
Of troubled or troublesome
Surely her emotions
Are more sinned against than sinning – it is she
That holds the troubles
Like a changeling cat
In her
White-as-a-cat hands. Not she
Who intends the trouble
To befall
Some unknown minor dignitary
At the Imperial Court
Or some distant cousin
Who does not know
What the mail may bring - those kimonos
Can hide as many months of white trouble
As a winter full of snow drifts
Which stop the post
With its one burning red with importance letter
Waiting for an answer
Amongst the arbitrary others like a snowstorm
In a bag
On a horse
Somewhere outside an inn
On a mountain
Lost
At the edge of a kingdom