Kabir Deb writes

A COLOURED THIEF

 

Desperation in my mind to touch those vague images,

Hanging on a nail, with no feeling

Yet when I peek, I see the characters speaking,

Telling stories long and piercing,

I listen to them like a butterfly sucking honey from flowers,

Old stories shower down their letters and I try to collect them,

I am a beggar now in search of a treasure,

I speak out, "Give me more, give me the shower full of hope"

A turban comes out and my hand stops with fear,

He says, "Don't steal my job, I am a beggar stuck in the portrait"

I am a thief, everyone is a thief,

We just don't know what we are stealing,

I smile at him and his crying wife,

She stops her tears and gives me food,

A food made with rich colours,

I eat them like a hungry beggar,

The man in the portrait is now free,

I came out of the museum,

Worried about them, their job,

But I never thought of stealing again,

I learnt from a beggar.

 

 

 Gallery of the Louvre -- Samuel F. B. Morse