Sunshine and shadow and laughter and tears,
These are forever the paints of the years,
Splashed on the canvas of life day by day,
We are the artists, the colors are they.
We are the painters, the pigments we use
Never we're wholly permitted to chose.
Grief with its gray tint and joy with its red
Come from life's tubes to be blended and spread.
Here at the easel, the brushes at hand,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem