Picasso Died This Morning Poem by William Marr

After frittering away the remaining afternoon
I walk up to the window many times
to see if the sky holds any last surprise

As it hangs over my neighbor's roof
the sun seems almost
immortal. Picasso died this morning
I wonder what tunes the three musicians
are going to play
which way the dove
is going to fly

Having shown us the world is still
soft and kneadable
the master hands are now withdrawing
I reach out unconsciously
but realizing how childish it must be
I turn my grasping hands to clapping


[Chinese Translation]:


今天上午畢卡索死了


靜靜把多餘的午後消磨掉
好幾次走近窗口
看天上
是否出現最後一個驚奇

那顆太陽在鄰居的屋頂上
久久落不下去幾乎使我想起
永恆。今天上午畢卡索死了
不知那三個樂師
要奏些什麼曲調
不知那隻灰鴿
要往哪個方向飛

這雙頑皮的手
伸進來顯示
這世界還柔軟得可捏可塑
現在卻悄悄縮回去了
我下意識地伸出雙手想挽留它們
卻猛覺這舉動的幼稚可笑
便順勢為它們熱烈鼓起掌來