Van Gogh

Looking out of the asylum’s windows,
I can see the majestic starry night,
The moon shining with all of its light,
The smell of irises is everywhere tonight.
Stepping into my room I sit on my bed,
Where I felt that poisonous dread,
Recalling the night at the beautiful café,
The yellow house which I visited in May.
I would walk around the nearby path,
And sit near the blossoming almond tree,
Where I let my imagination run around free.
Walking through the wheat fields with crows flying up in the sky,
I could see people working nearby.
So while I recall these things with a deep breath,
I can’t stop thinking about my nearing death.