The animals that look at us like children
in innocence, in perfect innocence!
The innocence that looks at us! Like children
The animals, the simple animals,
have no idea why legs no longer work.
The food that is refused, the love of sleeping–
in innocence, in childhood innocence
there is a parallel of love. Of sleeping
they’re never tired, the dying animals;
sick children too, whose play to them is work.
The animals are little children dying,
brash tigers, household pets–all innocence;
the flames that lit their eyes are also dying,
the animals, the simple animals,
die easily; but hard for us, like work!
Gavin Ewarts, “The Dying Animals”