Your Catfish Friend by Richard Brautigan (1935 – 1984)
If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, “It’s beautiful
here by this pond. I wish
somebody loved me,”
I’d love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, “I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond? It seems like
a perfect place for them.”
In waters deep, I lurk and hide
My scales a disguise, my heart full of pride
I dart and weave, with fins so fine
A master of deception, oh so divine
My eyes gleam bright, like jewels in the night
As I spin my web, a tangled delight
I promise the world, with whispers sweet
But my intentions, oh so hard to beat
I'm a catfish, a trickster true
My lies are hooks, that catch anew
So beware, dear heart, of my charming guile
For in my depths, a secret smile
Well, I wish I was a catfish
Swimming in, Lord, the deep blue sea
I have all you pretty women
Fishin' after me, fishin' after me
Fishin' after me, yeah
I know this from Jimi Hendrix's version, but "Catfish Blues" has a long history starting with Robert Petway’s Original in 1941, with the line "I wish I was a catfish" being recorded as early as 1928. Source: https://www.americanbluesscene.com/2011 ... ish-blues/
Candiru sure don't need a ladder
(If they had one, though, they might be gladder).
Whatever their genus,
They go up your penis
And start up a home in your bladder.
"My journey is at an end and the tale is told. The reader who has followed so faithfully and so far, they have the right to ask, what do I bring back? It can be summed up in three words. Concentrate upon Uganda."
Winston Churchill, My African Journey
Jools wrote: 30 Jun 2024, 10:24
Candiru sure don't need a ladder
(If they had one, though, they might be gladder).
Whatever their genus,
They go up your penis
And start up a home in your bladder.
Все приходится сому
С детства
Делать самому.
Даже крошечным сомишкам
Надо жить своим умишком!
Сам
Еду себе найди.
Сам
В беду не попади.
Не пожалуешься маме!
Сам справляйся —
Сам
С усами!
Трудно жить
Без пап и мам!
Трудно
Маленьким сомам!
Но зато уж взрослый сом
Не ударит в грязь лицом!
Он лежит себе
На дне
Самостоятельный вполне!
Boris Zakhoder
About catfish
Everything catfish has to do
Since childhood
by itself.
Even tiny catfish
Have to live by their own mind!
You have to find yourself some food.
You yourself
Don't get into trouble.
Can't complain to mom!
Handle it yourself -
You already have a mustache!
It's hard to live
Without dads and moms!
Difficult for little catfish!
But an already adult catfish
Don't lose face!
He lies by himself
On the bottom
Completely independent!
Широка и глубока
Под мостом текла река.
Под корягой
Под мостом
Жил в реке усатый сом.
Он лежал на дне
Часами,
Шевелил во сне
Усами.
А на берегу реки
Жили-были рыбаки.
В дождь и в солнечные дни
Сети ставили они.
И спросонья
На рассвете
Заходила рыба в сети.
Попадался карп горбатый,
Попадался — пропадал.
Только сом,
Большой,
Усатый,
Никогда не попадал.
Он лежал,
И, кроме ила,
Кроме всяческой еды,
Над его корягой было
Метров пять речной воды.
Говорит один рыбак:
— Не поймать сома никак.
Или снасти не крепки?
Или мы не рыбаки?
Неужели в этот раз
Он опять уйдёт от нас?
За рекой стада мычат,
Петухи к дождю кричат.
Сеть лежит на берегу,
Из неё усы торчат.
Говорит один рыбак:
— Ну, поймали кое-как. —
Шевельнув сома ногой:
— Не уйдёт, — сказал другой.
Но свернулся колесом
И хвостом ударил сом.
Вспомнил речку голубую,
Вспомнил рыбку молодую
Да корягу под мостом —
И ушёл.
Sergey Mikhalkov
Pro soma
Shiroka i gluboka
Pod mostom tekla reka.
Pod koryagoy Pod mostom
Zhil v reke usatyy som.
On lezhal na dne Chasami,
Shevelil vo sne Usami.
A na beregu reki
Zhili-byli rybaki.
V dozhd' i v solnechnyye dni
Seti stavili oni.
I sproson'ya Na rassvete
Zakhodila ryba v seti.
No svernulsya kolesom
I khvostom udaril som.
Vspomnil rechku golubuyu,
Vspomnil rybku moloduyu
Da koryagu pod mostom —
I ushol.
Sergey Mikhalkov
About catfish
Wide and deep
A river flowed under the bridge.
Under the snag
Under the bridge
There lived a mustachioed catfish in the river.
He was lying at the bottom for hours,
And moved his whiskers in his sleep.
And on the river bank
Lived fishermen.
In rain and on sunny days
They installed the nets.
And half asleep at dawn
Fish came into the net.
A humpbacked carp got caught,
Got caught and disappeared.
Only catfish big and whiskered,
Never got in the net.
He was lying, and, besides the silt,
In addition to all kinds of food,
Above his snag was
Five meters of river water.
One fisherman says:
— There’s no way to catch the catfish.
Or is the gear not strong?
Or are we not fishermen?
Is it really this time
Will he evade us again?
Across the river the herds moo,
Roosters crow before the rain.
The net lies on the shore,
A mustache sticks out of it.
One fisherman says:
- Well, we caught it somehow. —
Moving the catfish with his foot:
“He won’t leave,” said another.
But he curled up like a wheel,
And the catfish hit with its tail.
And remembered the blue river,
And remembered young fish
Yes, a snag under the bridge -
And left.
But he curled up like a wheel,
And the catfish hit with its tail.
And remembered the blue river,
And remembered young fish
Yes, a snag under the bridge - And left.
That's something very different...
