Swordfish in the Strait of Messina

So goes the hunt for swordfish in the Strait of Messina, Amongst waves and wind, 'twixt sky and water, a dance with no demeanor. An ancient ballet, a craft passed down with care and might, In the hearts of fishermen, it lives, vibrant, like a sacred rite.


4 Corners





Beneath the azure sky of the Strait of Messina, Where the horizon kisses the sea, and the land meets the arena, The felucca unfurls, ancient queen of the fishing game, In pursuit of swordfish, a noble creature, not one of the same.

The waves pirouette to a gentle breeze’s sway, As the water glistens, sincere in its display. Fishermen on deck, eyes fixed on the distant line, With sharpened swords, poised for the battle, so fine.

In the sun’s reflection, the sea turns silver and bright, And the light pirouettes on sails, a dance of blue and white. Amidst the dark waves, the swordfish cuts through with grace, Beneath its silvery back, ancient strength finds its place.

With a daring leap, the sword pierces the sky, In a clash of man and fish, a duel without weary eye. In the fiery struggle, hearts beat to the rhythm of the sea, In the quest to conquer, to capture, what’s given so free.

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