Poem of Mermaid ( III )

During the days of waiting for the mermaid to heal, the poet often looked at the mermaid in fascination. Watching her gracefully swing her long tail in the water, watching her shake her black hair splashed countless droplets, the poet gradually began to understand why the dignitaries and noblemen would be so keen to breed mermaids, with her every scene is so elegant and dynamic, no less than any famous masterpiece of the world. Even the way she looks when she eats every day, there is a strange sense of beauty. The mermaid is not fussy about food, any human food she can eat, but after several feedings, the poet found that her favorite food is still fish. Fresh, live fish. The mermaid's webbed fingers are nimble and strong, and can quickly put a live fish into the pool firmly pinched, fingertips sunk through the body of the fish, the fish can no longer escape, but hopelessly swinging tail by her mouth, a mouthful of bite open backbone. Wisps of red silk dripped down the corners of the mermaid's mouth, staining the black hair next to it as if the darkness of the night bloomed with fire-red flowers. The poet found it hard to take his eyes off the mermaid, her every movement was like a thin, sharp blade, prying open his innermost private thoughts, roaring and swelling into subtle inspiration. These inspirations were enough to fill several wonderful poems, so the poet eagerly fished out a pen and paper. He was writing a poem for her. When the poem was finished, the mermaid also finished a satisfying meal, she laid the bare fish bones on the edge of the pool, and crouched with her arms under her pillow, imitating the poet's expression at the moment to look at herself, curled her mouth and gave a silent smile. This is the first time she smiled. The poet could not help but put down his pen and came to her again, then saw something reflecting the shimmering light at the bottom of the pool. It was ordinary fish scales because mermaids only eat fish flesh, not scales, those gray-white scales were abandoned and fell all over the bottom of the pool. It was adorned with one or two pieces of the mermaid's scales, unlike the ordinary fish scales that were dead, even though they had been detached from the body, still radiated a moving blue fluorescence that could not be ignored. The difference between mermaid scales and ordinary fish scales is like jewels and rubble. "For they are both lowly creatures." The poet bends down and strokes the cold brow of the mermaid, "Which will be as perfect as you are, a gift and mercy from the Creator." Incidentally, during this period when he did not have to run around for a living, the poet had a rare free time to do more things he wanted to do. For example, organize his past works. He had written many poems, and even put together a book of poems, but unfortunately, almost all of them were not sold and became a pile of waste paper in a corner of the room. The poet did not feel that his writing was bad, but that no one was willing to meditate and read a good poem in this era. Only he will be in the stormy night, guarding a candle flame in the semi-basement, open the book of unappreciated poems, will read the poems above one by one to the mermaid in the water to listen. He did not know if the mermaid could understand, but at least she was listening carefully, such a look of concentration, the poet has not seen on anyone's face for many years. "If only you could become human, so at least someone could read my poems. The poet fantasized, soon replaced by a helpless smile, he put down the book of poems and sat by the water's edge, reached out and ran his hand through her dripping hair, and remembered the legend of mermaids - their delicate singing voice attached to the magic of seduction can make any listener fascinated. "If you could speak ......" the poet looked at the mermaid with promise in his eyes, "could you make my poem into a song for the world to hear? No response. This is a mermaid who can't sing, and what she thinks can't be conveyed to others, and like the poet, she is an alien among her kind. The poet suddenly felt a liquid emerge from his eyes and drip on his face, warm and hot.