one iteration

I myself and Pangur Bán,
we each have our particular skill.
His mind is fixed upon the hunt,
mine upon my chosen craft.

Peace I love beyond all fame
in diligence above my book.
Pangur Bán is never jealous,
holding dear his childish heart.

It is never tiresome while we two
are here together in our home,
our interest endless while we have
something to try our skills upon.

Often, after the hard hunt,
a mouse will tangle in his net,
while into mine there falls a rule
of dark meaning and difficult.

He directs his pure bright eye
along the wall surrounding us.
I direct my clear eye,
weak though it is, at hard knowledge.

He takes delight in rapid action;
a mouse sticks in his sharp claw.
Solving a dark and valued crux
I, for my part, take delight.

However long we work together
neither one disturbs the other.
Each enjoys his own skill
finding pleasure for himself.

He, for his part, is the master
of his daily job of work.
Bringing darkness into light
is the work I do best.

-Irish Monastic Poem, 8th century, translated by Thomas Kinsella