Let it be known
that in the eyes
of certain gods
everything you do
in your painting
is perfect
but in ours
to which gods gave
freedom of discernment
they remark
your technique
is hesitant.
It is about
the excessive
bleeding magenta
and the dotty impression
your bristled soul
projects.
~~~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem