Lash and dash, O naughty child The waves of your rebellion Between the violet hill and the seaweeds Toss about your hidden rebellion And let not deep and steep cliffs Intimidate you For in my heart Your barren past radiantly blooms And on the fiery fields The kisses of rain Quench your anger Strike with the strokes of your screaming brush On the walls of my soul On my lips On my cheeks And on the mirrors of the moon Paint with all colors The hot The cold The warm The red The yellow The green The black And the white For little Picasso Still crawls On the bosom of the river Strike with your aggressive, wild brush Move upward, climb In the shoes of the poor shepherd Lift up the orchestra baton Let the ancient flute blow melodies And dance with the flowing locks of hair Pour out your colors That they may seep as commotion As pain And rebellion On the forehead of the sun And cheek of the moon. Pour down the ambrosial nectar Of your soul Into the wax of my heart And sleep happily Beneath the shadow Of my eyelashes Sleeplessness has often wearied you So sleep on purity's body In your garment Which though mud-smeared Yet exudes the sweet essence of jasmine And the fragrance of the valley fruit Let the rivers of forgiveness Wash away human sins O silent and mischievous artist! Your hermit-heart is still engrossed In the stillness of the dawn. Still croons on its lap A soft song for the dream of life That the wrath of the day May subside And the quiet of the night reposes Once fate has made peace with you