A wash of rain
on two panels of my tall
concrete wall
mirrorised the wall
and looking east
I saw the western
land and trees and sky
in tones of grey
from mid to almost white.
I saw it
as an early stage
of a later Turner.
I saw him on a ladder
with a brush
bigger than was his wont
adding for pertinence
the black ship and smoke and sails
of 'Peace—Burial at Sea'
and seeking final resolution
of ‘Ponte Delle Torri, Spoleto'
to fit the theme of a show.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
please see more and more in this life-ladder, beautiful