Старик и море

           Drainedofbloodandawashhelookedthecolourofthesilverbackingofamirrorandhisstripesstillshowed. 

           "Ishouldn’thavegoneoutsofar,fish,"hesaid. "Neitherforyounorforme.I’msorry,fish." 

           Now,hesaidtohimself. Looktothelashingontheknifeandseeifithasbeencut. Thengetyourhandinorderbecausetherestillismoretocome. 

           "IwishIhadastonefortheknife,"theoldmansaidafterhehadcheckedthelashingontheoarbutt. "Ishouldhavebroughtastone." Youshouldhavebroughtmanythings,hethought. Butyoudidnotbringthem,oldman. Nowisnotimetothinkofwhatyoudonothave. Thinkofwhatyoucandowithwhatthereis. 

           "Yougivememuchgoodcounsel,"hesaidaloud."I’mtiredofit." 

           Heheldthetillerunderhisarmandsoakedbothhishandsinthewater astheskiffdroveforward. 

           "Godknowshowmuchthatlastonetook,"hesaid. "Butshe’smuchlighternow." Hedidnotwanttothinkofthemutilatedunder-sideofthefish. Heknewthateachofthejerkingbumpsofthesharkhadbeenmeattornaway andthatthefishnowmadeatrailforallsharksaswideasahighwaythroughthesea. 

           Hewasafishtokeepamanallwinter,hethought. Don’tthinkofthat. Justrestandtrytogetyourhandsinshapetodefendwhatisleftofhim. Thebloodsmellfrommyhandsmeansnothingnowwithallthatscentinthewater. Besidestheydonotbleedmuch. Thereisnothingcutthatmeansanything. Thebleedingmaykeeptheleftfromcramping. 

           WhatcanIthinkofnow?hethought.Nothing.