that feeling when
you sit on the side of the river
and you put your hook line and sinker
and you wait for a time
until a fish comes along and
swallows everything
hook line and
sinker and you finally caught said
fish
and it is yours alone but then
not learning how to cook it you finally
decide to
throw it back to where it
rightfully belongs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem