A Silent Night and the Lonely Fish

“So when I want to write

A silent night,
A lonely fish glides through the pond
(It’s old),
While on the starstrewn sky
The moon, its stillness is reflected
On the water surface…”

“… you say

midnight hour—
an oval lights the pond
and hits the moon.”

“Oh. But the fish’s no astronaut.
Where is the stillness?
The reflection?
Is this silent?
And that no one’s there except the fish?”

“It is the darkest point of the night suggesting silence or at least the noises will be hushed. Each crack of a twig will be noticed. The fish is just an oval shape, hard to make out, a bit lighter than the pond water. A pond has still water, unless disturbed. The moon is twice in this scene, once up in the night sky, once its reflection on the pond. The fish might be the only perceivable motion, but trust me, it is not alone. It is fine to just say ‘oval’ and letting the reader think this is already the reflection of the moon, but surprise, in the last line we tell them that’s not the case, and apparently the ‘oval’ is moving in the pond and hits the moon(‘s reflection)…”

“But can’t I use lonely—”

“Shush.”  [sighing]
“Of course you could. Compare the impact. Ask the fish if it feels lonely. No reply? What you are doing is you put your own emotion over the scene like a polo-neck Christmas jumper without leaving the option for a shirt. Where is the surprise? The magic of that scene? Your version does not leave any question to be answered. Leave questions unanswered.”

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