There was a man who liked to paint
and loved to shed much light
into the subjects that he drew
to many folks delight
One day an islander of fame
had chanced to come his way
as he was going with his son
to watch a children's play
'I've seen your work, ' the famed one said,
'and like it very much.
Would you consider capturing
me with your master's touch? '
'Why, sir, I would be honored to, '
the painter said and soon
the work was done in shades of blue
and golden hues festooned
'Oh, goodness, ' many critics raved
'this painting is so fine.
A pure delight to eyes and heart
in likeness and design.'
One night the son sat on his bed
when dad would read to him
from children's wondrous picture books
as evening lights grew dim
'Well, son, ' the painter told the son
'looks like that famous man
has really made my work stand out
and I have gained a fan.'
'Dear dad, ' the little boy replied,
'the picture's full of lights.
But why are there no sparking eyes?
They're blank and dark as night.'
The father's heart was pierced with pain
to hear his son's remark
and then remembered cruel facts
in hearsay and reports
And suddenly it dawned on him
that without thought or care
his hand had painted what was real
to lay that soul quite bare
In life and writing and in art
the surfaces may glow
with fame and fortune and kind deeds
but there are things below
Some things are seen by little babes
and people halt and maimed
a truth reflected in the eyes
beyond the world's slick games.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another epic piece Liilia, works of art reflect the soul indeed, love it xx