Take a picture,
Hanging to a wall
In a restful symmetric frame.
Place carefully,
So as not to over-balance
Very gently
One, Or two, Human Beings,
It is their first time at this exhibition
They gape
Like butterfilies leaving their cocoon
Like playing first time a CD tune
With eyes focused
On the painting they stand,
Gazing rigidly, intently.
Or staring faraway through infinity.
They are trying to understand the painting.
Trying to clarify and classify
A foreign experience
Into their store
Of known experience.
Like a zen novice in the hands of a zen master
Doubts arising in a pastor
They will never understand
Paintings.
And nor do I!
(Sept 1970, Cape Town, South Africa)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem