Armed with his arsenal of paints,
He attacks the evening canvas.
Deploying his creative genius,
Freeing his brilliant thoughts,
While releasing his passionate soul.
Swirls explode into existence,
While battling with his loneliness.
He conquers his muse of sunflowers,
Under the Arles...analogous sky,
At the setting of the sun.
A kaleidoscopic evening,
Comes to a halting close.
Captured...by the hands of a genius,
And the brushstrokes retell the story,
Of that lone...inspirational day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem