You don’t really like people.
You’re committed to beauty.
You see the canvas and the only relationship
You need is with color and the transfer of
Perfection from your mind into this world.
Then, when you’re finished, you need love.
You need to love.
You want to be adored and so
You love her like
She has never been touched.
She’ll never feel like that again.
And when you are finished,
Like with a painting,
The beauty transferred,
Your art done,
You leave, and go in search of your next creation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem