6 am, my soul starts splashing
wonderful pastels of thankfulness
On the blank canvas of today.
My heart is painting flowers
Of good intentions to fill the aquarelle
With love and selfless kindness
10 am, my greedy ego used its brush
And made some strokes of ugly grey
Looking like splashes of hideous cement
I Try to find back the palette
Of soft and wonderful colors
And hope that by tonight
The painting of my day
Looks like a flowery forest
Void of hard concrete
Thank you for sharing this version, one can see the evolution of the poem, clearly. This version has practically the same images as the Canvas but somehow, the message is very elusive to decipher. In The Canvas, the whole poem became a profound statement of what you were trying to convey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ah what a wonderful piece, again on greed!