The Art of my Soul

A painter if I were, no rainbow would
suffice to paint the colors of my heart.
No shades or hues one ever used in art
would be enough to tell you what I should.

If I could sing, no lark or organs rave
could be of use for me to voice my mind.
A sculptor if I were, no marble could
imprint in forms the feelings that I have.

I’m but a poet – yet my words are few,
and even if I learnt a thousand more,
they wouldn’t be enough in an case
to spell in letters what I feel for you.


Virgiliu Pop
Timisoara, 26 May 2002