This is the last painting
by the Master
never given recognition
in his time
before
his suicide
the larks are gone
from the sky
taking their sweet song
innocence and purity
only carnivorous crows
hovering
like black demons
over a tumultuous field
torn violently
by cart tracks
then beaten flat
by the wind
man and the elements
have conspired together
to turn this
into a nightmare
the sky is dark and angry
with thunder clouds
heaven is against us
God at last
has forsaken us
living is unthinkable
what is to be done
now that all illusions
have been shattered
and reality can no longer
be accommodated
by the demands
placed upon it
peasants cannot become kings
the poor are always here
nobody cares
at last subject and object
are united in despair
yesterday and today
life and death
come together as one
and self
gets swallowed up in
the vastness and darkness
of despair
never to return again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem