I haven't done the research,
because the truth has two sides,
it's just that I could give a rats azz
I know enough to remain blind.
Interpretation belongs to one's own
and I do know this....
his brush strokes were signs something was amiss.
The hard ones were frustrations of living alone
or maybe a hurried state, more important things to be done.
The soft ones, the ones that take time
signify he was having peace of mind.
The art OK, the man sublime!
(or...teeheehee, my opinion the art was just ok, but the man creating it takes my breath away.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem