i was talking to an old man
recounting her golden past
while gently casting fishnet
to catch minnows for bait
he has faded orange bucket
where he put all his fishwares;
smile to cover untold pains
he's hubbling; maybe old age
he talk about owning good cars
give it up cause of gas price
all three kids went to service
agony of working as start-up
and told to finish work faster
he has to give that up too; ego
fishing is his outlet of boredom
telling stories to who come along
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem