There’s a big fish at the bottom of Masvingo lake.

Old, fat, and ugly, it won’t be caught

 

I glimpsed it once, on the end of my hook;

Thought I had it, saw its cruel, fierce eyes

  

The fishing isn’t good in the lake.

The big old one has eaten almost all the others.

People still come to try and catch it

 

Maybe if the lake dries up

It will be found there at the bottom

Wriggling, squirming:

They say the lake will dry up one day

 

I can’t wait that long.

It can’t live for ever.

Next year I’m coming back with fresh tackle, new bait