Give me a link between music and art-
a large canvas that in truth can impart
an oil brush, leap out of mirrored age's dark
something resonating with Mozart or Bach,
give me compositions charcoaled in kohl,
colours' burning feathery bright, like crests,
like a red-hot poker searing my soul,
wind and string instruments played in quartets.
Give me choirs in accord, the sound of harps.
Angels seated on nimbus clouds in arcs-
eyeing a pianist in reverence,
playing scores of songs in exuberance;
evoking flames and flowers dying daily,
dreams as heady as a mare dancing gaily
over a valley, the mountain waters,
notes ♬ and brushes—are swimming sea otters.
I want real music that thunders and rains,
not just cherry blossoms drifting down lanes.
I want art that strains to be heard-not-seen,
blended swapped over, only to reconvene.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A large canvas can carry the truth and this can give an amazing and absolute link between art and music. You have perfectly and excellently expressed thought in this brilliant poem.