My heart's a canvas
And I, an artist
Creating numerous paintings on feelings
With the colors of my emotions...
And I am but an optimist of an artist
With an equally optimistic brush called hope
And so, I paint rosy pictures of life
With the only grim paints I possess...
My heart is painted with woeful happiness
Each hue presents my varied feelings.
Though its looks cheery and hopeful
The paint is just an allusion; a mask
Hiding the plain white sheet beneath
Hiding this pain dwelling underneath...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sublime start with a nice poem, Rupa. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you.