By Thomas Page

The Untranslatable

This is a series of poems of words that do not directly translate into English. I have tried to capture the essence of the word in a poem.

 

I was standing on a dock overlooking the Pacific when I was fishing.

The air waltzed with the waves of the low tide.

A piece of butchered squid hooked and thrown into the brine.

I waited

And waited

And waited

Until I felt a tug.

A man was walking with his son and seeing that I was reeling in something stopped.

“Now son,”

He said,

“He’s about to catch a massive fish”

My hands were barely holding on to the rod as the ocean fought to keep its own

“It might even something as big as a swordfish or a marlin.

Just

Wait.”

The line slowly began to recede into the reel,

The ocean loosing its fury as the line rose.

I pulled the rod back on the dock as the line grew heavier.

It was cresting the railing when we all saw that it was

Seaweed

“Oh”

He said and left with his son.

 

Language: Urdu

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