The artist sat at her easel,
In front the lake made music
With swans dancing
And cormorants stunningly
Clapping their wings.
Green and red splashed
The canvas with dots of white.
The sun created shadows
That looked suspiciously
Creamy in the distance.
The artist didn't see the poet
Open the five-bar gate and
Climb into the picture as the
Cloud hid the sun from view
And the paint began to dry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem