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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384061" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Fish</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I caught a tremendous fish<br>and held him beside the boat<br>half out of water, with my hook<br>fast in a corner of his mouth.<br>He didn't fight.<br>He hadn't fought at all.<br>He hung a grunting weight,<br>battered and venerable<br>and homely. Here and there<br>his brown skin hung in strips<br>like ancient wallpaper,<br>and its pattern of darker brown<br>was like wallpaper:<br>shapes like full-blown roses<br>stained and lost through age.<br>He was speckled and barnacles,<br>fine rosettes of lime,<br>and infested<br>with tiny white sea-lice,<br>and underneath two or three<br>rags of green weed hung down.<br>While his gills were breathing in<br>the terrible oxygen<br>--the frightening gills,<br>fresh and crisp with blood,<br>that can cut so badly--<br>I thought of the coarse white flesh<br>packed in like feathers,<br>the big bones and the little bones,<br>the dramatic reds and blacks<br>of his shiny entrails,<br>and the pink swim-bladder<br>like a big peony.<br>I looked into his eyes<br>which were far larger than mine<br>but shallower, and yellowed,<br>the irises backed and packed<br>with tarnished tinfoil<br>seen through the lenses<br>of old scratched isinglass.<br>They shifted a little, but not<br>to return my stare.<br>--It was more like the tipping<br>of an object toward the light.<br>I admired his sullen face,<br>the mechanism of his jaw,<br>and then I saw<br>that from his lower lip<br>--if you could call it a lip<br>grim, wet, and weaponlike,<br>hung five old pieces of fish-line,<br>or four and a wire leader<br>with the swivel still attached,<br>with all their five big hooks<br>grown firmly in his mouth.<br>A green line, frayed at the end<br>where he broke it, two heavier lines,<br>and a fine black thread<br>still crimped from the strain and snap<br>when it broke and he got away.<br>Like medals with their ribbons<br>frayed and wavering,<br>a five-haired beard of wisdom<br>trailing from his aching jaw.<br>I stared and stared<br>and victory filled up<br>the little rented boat,<br>from the pool of bilge<br>where oil had spread a rainbow<br>around the rusted engine<br>to the bailer rusted orange,<br>the sun-cracked thwarts,<br>the oarlocks on their strings,<br>the gunnels--until everything<br>was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!<br>And I let the fish go.</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=384061" data-title="The Fish de Elizabeth Bishop" data-description="I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of his mouth.
He didn't fight.
He hadn't fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown..."></div>
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