This poem was written in Gaelic in the 8^th century by a student of the monastery of Carinthia, which seems to be in Austria. He wrote the poem on a copy of St Paul’s Epistles. He must have written in Gaelic because he was from Scotland. The poem speaks to me of loneliness rendered bearable and even creative by the presence of a cat. I imagine a 16-year-old boy in a dark cell lit by a candle. The cell is full of mice, making it wonderful for Pangur Bán. I like how every verse brings the cat and the student togther, showing their deep friendship. I think too of John Gray’s argument in “Feline Philosophy” that humans would live much more comfortably if they could live more like cats, undiverted by ambitions, philosophies, religions,  and thoughts of death and concentrating on their cattiness. https://richardswsmith.wordpress.com/2022/03/13/live-more-like-a-cat-less-like-a-human-and-be-more-content/

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 tasks we ply,
Pangur Ban, 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.

Translated from the Gaelic by Robin Flower