The tablecloth heart.

It's World Poetry Day today. Take something real, change it, kick it, reshape it, transform it, and for heaven's sake, make that real sound sweeter:

"Hunger feels like pincers,
like the bite of crabs,
it burns, burns and has no fire.
Hunger is a cold fire.
Let us sit down soon to eat
with all those who haven't eaten;
let us spread great tablecloths,
put salt in the lakes of the world,
set up planetary bakeries,
tables with strawberries in snow,
and a plate like the moon itself
from which we can all eat.

For now I ask no more
than the justice of eating."

from "The great tablecloth" by Pablo Neruda
Anthi, thanks for 'cooking' the fish.