He was born to be bothered by all kinds of colours,
But refused to be bothered by the vulgar.
Keep still when be mistaken,
Not let the nature be, though.
He is an excellent cook,
Making golden colours ingredient of his masterpiece.
He is an ingenius architect,
Painting the walls of his huge building with pureness.
For a child, he is a playmate,
Lovely.
For an adult, he is an odd child,
Definitely.
For a family, he is a rebel as an adult,
Incredibly.
Time always clenchs his hand,
Holding him back,
To abandon him cruelly
In the end.
In a spin,
The sunflowers flourished.
What about suffering from the affliction?
Big purple sky,
Wide red and blue starry night,
He races with the sun,
Sleeps with the moon,
Seeking for the dreadful kiss.
He prays again and again for
Living forever.
Wang Qian
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/vincent-van-gogh-6/
