Outside the half shut
shutters
I am sure
there must be a 'blue sky
made of raw cobalt'
but here
inside Vincent's bedroom
I am lost
in each stroke
of the brush that
created it
until an exquisite
little girl
abandons her
pushchair & Mummy
and toddles
in front of it
clambers behind
the protective rope
& so becomes
a part of it.
It is as if
she has entered
Vincent's bedroom
and finding him
(not there)
leaves
& leaves
the presence of
herself
fleshed into
the paint.
Art &
Reality
combining to create
what now for me
it will always be
LITTLE GIRL LOST
IN VINCENT'S BEDROOM.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have never layed eyes on this painting but now I see it through your words...I will try to look it up on the internet....a wealth of information for me.... Ruthie