You show us scenes
From everywhere;
Lands North,
East, West, or South.
You describe bees
And flowers and trees,
But never with your mouth.
It's through your brushstrokes
That I learn
Of feather, fin, or fur.
I can see things
That really are,
Or things that never were.
You tell of people,
Places, things
That we may never see.
You teach us of the universe
With your beautiful imagery.
Through lines, points,
Curves and colors;
Painter, you are so kind.
I can see exactly what you see,
But only in my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good poem. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.