||Today a paradise is willing to unfold
a masterpiece is in the mold.
The outline of a mountain view in draft,
Sweet flow of motivation,
happiness is in this craft.
As a bubble in the artists fate
inspiration is a fragile state.
You closed the curtains to avoid the sun
The flock of deer began to run.
The thunder of a moving chair
made every bird fly off with fear.
A gloomy mind is catching you
the useless sketch, a changing view.
The brush yells at the details: 'Just disappear!'.
And now the palette's colors change
the season of the year.
Then finally depression too.
A different tone, a darker hue,
appearing where the sky was blue.
Every time you seem to get the grasp,
the same surprise,
within the bubble is the wasp.
At last the paintings in the window of a shop
No passer-by lets money drop
The prize is rapidly below the value of the frame
Won't pay the rent
What a shame
One rainy afternoon, yes, sold at last
replaced by pretty image printed fast
thrown into attic case
this work of art really did lose face
Imagine this: A century from now
A reader of the news lifts the left brow
The painting is collected in a rush
receives the check
together with a blush.
You know this is quite true.
The painting genius is you.
It is a pity that this happy ending story
quite seldom brings
a live and kicking painter any glory.
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