Painting and Verse by Dr. A.V. Rotor
Who cares about the broken bridge over the river in summer?
When the fishing pole bends to the weight of its catch,
When laughter on both side of the bridge is shared by all,
By the houses on one side, the cliff and woods on the other,
And the river flows, flows forever in the idleness of time.
Those who live in these houses have little reference of time.
Morning comes late, evening is early, and the night is long,
The houses have but one eye and ear as they huddle for stories
And news, for there is no fence and the doors are open,
Reminiscent of time past, of a culture lost, of the ancient gene.
Let any catch be his or hers, whether on this part of the broken
Bridge or the other, upstream or at its basin – it is his honor.
A pat on the shoulder is the trophy, a crowning glory to the victor.
While the catch is cooked in a common pot, now it is food for all;
Who cares about the broken bridge across the river in summer?
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