I find, as I age, I care
less and less for the
colour yellow.
It is a youthful colour,
redolent of tossed hair
and swishing cornfields.
Now, it serves only to remind me
of Van Gogh's inevitable madness
and his absinthe fuelled suicide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem but does the title match, please enlighten me if i misunderstood it