Fishing Poem by Anil Kumar Panda
Fishing
The shriveled sun lurks hesitantly
Behind the clouds. The sky shrinks
Getting robbed by uncurled wind.
Wind seems overloaded with wings.
The boatmen create ripples across
Pristine flatness of simmering water;
As tipsy dancers the nets swing
In the air before falling with thuds;
At the shores the innocent tides
Beat their heads against the stones;
Mute observers of the struggles
Life brings with broken platters.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 9:40:07 PM # 1.0.0.1119
