The gallery which in the not too distant past
Thronged with fervent connoisseur and men
Immersed in the aesthetical qualities
Of art now wears a solemn semblance and its deserted crypts
Which use to rebound with beauty unrivalled now echoes mournful
Requiem like dirge and a hulking figure, bent, martyed
Strolls the lone corridors casting failed glances at the mouldering figures
His shadow an angry curator roars with pain
Recounting an illuminating career
Of promise -
The pallete gleamed in rainbow plumes
And his eternal youthful figure recapturing nature and beauty
Thread on marbled canvass
His image was on spire - high above it towers
Academic walls recaptured his aesthetic vision and
Of course the masses thronged to see his works of art
And it was he forshadowed a rennaisance
Then came a figure hideous - combining all the physical
beauties known Superimposed by a creature
The head was a huge boulder
Of Stone henge with splattered white beard long and flowing
It colour steeped in snow - all seeing eyes bluish
Hair danced in silky illusion
Hands are jet black with long curled claws
Torso outstretched and scaled like a snakeskin
The legs re enforse the clawlike nails and
A tail tipped with the head
Of a spear -
The fire grins and wags his tail
The throng disperses
The pallette disavows its rainbow glory
And the canvass displays dark images unseen- unknown
The lone fire, bent martyred strutts the lone gallery
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem