Why do ye worketh so hard,
To fill the unending abyss of hunger,
Or to earn money which you can’t guard,
Or to deserve honor in the fisherman’s hangar?
Only you knoweth how tough it is,
To catch each fish in the moment opportune
If Gods make peace with your wish,
The catch gives you a fortune.
Pulling the nets, he exclaimed, ‘I caught fish, Ahoy!’
Taking the faint harbor light as his guide,
When the boatman returneth home,
Rowing the boat back in the risky high tide.
As unabated, stormy waves rumble his boat,
Unruffled, Unscathed, he pushes the oar to and fro.
Breathing heavily and wiping the sweat of his eyebrow,
He remembered his family living in the huts ashore.
He breathed a sigh when he reached the boatyard.
With dexterity unheard of , he tied the boat.
With pride and honor, he carried his fish on shoulders broad.
With a royal gait, he walked towards his small household.
The sweet little success which
The twinkle of his eyes showed,
Made his wife smile and welcome
The warrior of life who came back his home.