Song of a Fisherman


The fisherman’s not troubled
By cares or grief and pain.
Early, with an easy mind
He’s setting sail again.

Peace lies all around there,
O’er field and stream and brake.
His song, a call that it is time
The golden sun should wake.

He sings whilst he is working,
Sings with all his might.
His work it is that makes him strong,
Fills him with life’s delight.

Soon multi-coloured turmoil
Seethes in the waters deep,
As through the reflected heavens
Fishes dart and leap .

He who’d wish to cast a net
Needs to be clear-eyed,
To be joyous as the waves,
With the freedom of the tide.

From the bridge, the shepherdess
Also casts her line.
‘Forget your wanton wiles, my dear,
That fish will ne’er be thine!’