His passions grew, emotions increased
Then with his brush he got them released
His eyes were stuck on the white sheet
And his body got flat on his feet
His soul came out & he uttered its need
Slowly but steadily his brush caught speed
Then dark in dawn came all what was inside
This is the fact which led to his great pride.
Still he's flying with his paintings in plenty of hearts,
Although he's no more alive to paint his arts.
If I was a painter he would be my lord,
But I hope in heaven he's happy with his God.
-By little poet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem