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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384054" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Strayed Crab</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is not my home. How did I get so far from water? It must <br>be over that way somewhere. <br>I am the color of wine, of tinta. The inside of my powerful <br>right claw is saffron-yellow. See, I see it now; I wave it like a <br>flag. I am dapper and elegant; I move with great precision, <br>cleverly managing all my smaller yellow claws. I believe in the <br>oblique, the indirect approach, and I keep my feelings to myself. <br>But on this strange, smooth surface I am making too much <br>noise. I wasn't meant for this. If I maneuver a bit and keep a <br>sharp lookout, I shall find my pool again. Watch out for my right <br>claw, all passersby! This place is too hard. The rain has stopped, <br>and it is damp, but still not wet enough to please me. <br>My eyes are good, though small; my shell is tough and tight. <br>In my own pool are many small gray fish. I see right through <br>them. Only their large eyes are opaque, and twitch at me. They <br>are hard to catch but I, I catch them quickly in my arms and <br>eat them up. <br>What is that big soft monster, like a yellow cloud, stifling <br>and warm? What is it doing? It pats my back. Out, claw. There, <br>I have frightened it away. It's sitting down, pretending nothing's <br>happened. I'll skirt it. It's still pretending not to see me. Out of <br>my way, O monster. I own a pool, all the little fish that swim in it, <br>and all the skittering waterbugs that smell like rotten apples. <br>Cheer up, O grievous snail. I tap your shell, encouragingly, <br>not that you will ever know about it. <br>And I want nothing to do with you, either, sulking toad. <br>Imagine, at least four times my size and yet so vulnerable... I <br>could open your belly with my claw. You glare and bulge, a <br>watchdog near my pool; you make a loud and hollow noise. I <br>do not care for such stupidity. I admire compression, lightness, <br>and agility, all rare in this loose world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Bishop">Elizabeth Bishop</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384054" data-title="Strayed Crab de Elizabeth Bishop" data-description="This is not my home. How did I get so far from water? It must 
be over that way somewhere. 
I am the color of wine, of tinta. The inside of my powerful 
right claw is saffron-yellow. See, I see it now; I wave it like a 
flag. I am dapper and elega..."></div>
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