It looked like he was stealing the golden yellow of the ripe wheat,
the dark green of the olive tree leaves, the grey of heavy-with-rain clouds.
I don´t know how he did it,
maybe he was a wizard, he had to be.
The only thing I know is that when he finished,
the canvass had a soul.
Sembrava rubare l’oro del grano maturo, il verde scuro delle foglie dell’ulivo,
il grigio delle nuvole cariche di pioggia.
Non so come ci sia riuscito,
forse era un mago, doveva esserlo.
La sola cosa che so é che quando finì,
la tela aveva un’anima.
Photo: Alberto Trebeski, Spring, 2005