I could have studied art and design amongst happiness
When the sun had become a ring and earth a tattoo.
I could have learned to think outside the box amidst creativity
When the fall had become spring and winter an omitted season.

It is alright though they say, having lost what I wished for the most:
To be the colour on the brush painting an impressive scenery,
To be the inspiration in the heart imbuing the whole studio,
To be the blood streaming out of the body (not) in pain.

I could have anticipated the destinies to come amongst fervour
When the sun had exploded and earth been ablaze.
I could have aimed at the originality amidst skilful artists
When nights were painted and days the sample board.

It is alright though they say.


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