Leaves on the Water - 2

Yesterday
I went to the river for a walk.

It was early autumn,
a lovely light and quiet evening.
Yellow and red leaves fell down so smoothly.

Several wild children were playing noisy and cheerfully.
I saw a few young people having beer on a bench, swearing and laughing loud.
I passed a venerable lady with a badger-dog, strolling dolefully.

And there was an old fisherman there, on the bank;

sitting in an uncomfortable folding chair,
wearing old clothes of uncertain color,
a baggy jacket, rubber jackboots,
a stupid worn out knitted cap;
having a red plastic bucket,
and a big formless bag.

I moved closer.

He paid no attention on me.
I couldn't see his face; it was no object.
He was just sitting, watching his float, smoking.

Sitting still,
watching calmly,
smoking leisurely.

No move, no single word, no needless thought.

And only quick light ripples
made the difference between the water and the sky.

It was a quiet autumn evening.

The sun sank into haze and died.
Mist started rising over the steel waters,
surroundings turned bit by bit deep blue.

I still was watching him.
He kept watching his float.
It seemed to me someone was watching us

meanwhile the yellow-brown leaves were falling down on the water...


-----------------------
Pavel Nichkov