He grows, he slows around the bend, his tail showing some fin.
Above the water the people swim, oblivious to the danger within,
it comes, it bleeds for the blood it needs,
wants to gnaw and chew for the heart it sees.
Mouth curved into a rictus grin, it comes around the bend again.
The first time just for fun it swam, this time to slaughter the sand,
like sheep they flee as it comes about,
never knowing what the fuss was about,
by and by they swam to be safe,
yet never knew it was too late.
Was the shark the wiser one, more experience of life's great gun?
Was it the scythe upon the grass, to reap those souls so crass?
Was it the dancer, swimming through, red with blood from a lucky few?
Or was it something else indeed, dancing fey upon the reeds?
Death talks to those who see it clear,
though never has one held it so dear.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem