The Beggar of Colors

In the shimmering sunlight of twenty-four minutes past twelve,
or wrapped in the gentle magic of a southern breeze at dusk,
I have heard
you come to stand on your roof, water the plants,
or gaze quietly up at the sky.

I have longed to see you for so many days!
Will you show yourself? Just once?
Let me tell you something first.
Listen, I'm terribly old-fashioned!

I hear you keep yourself perfectly arranged and tidy.
So meticulous, they say, you won't let even a crease fall on your clothes!
And me? Ask my mother and you'll know—
what a hopelessly disheveled person I am!
Even more disheveled than me is my faded life.

Well, never mind, what I came to say!
From the colors of your heart, could you lend me some
deep green, pale pink, and purple?
No no, not for painting—I can't do that!
I'll paint my black-and-white life
bit by bit with the colors from your heart. Will you lend them?

Why wouldn't you, tell me? One who has so much,
surely can spare those two or three colors, just a pinch!
How much could it diminish, really?

You wonder why I'm begging for such colors?
Well, here's my explanation...

With deep green I'll paint myself
as a sudden morning rain
that has just touched the earth. Yes, I'll paint it very dark indeed!

In pale pink I'll paint
each wise afternoon brimming with all my weariness.

And purple?
With purple I'll paint, one by one—
my tears, my sadness, my sorrow and nights of anguish.
I'll hide every pain behind the splash of color, each with a new name.

Listen, when you paint pictures,
so many colors go to waste, don't they?
With those sheets of wasted color,
if I could hide away my tears,
would that really harm you so much?

Then let me come stand a while in your courtyard, how about it?
You just stand there on your roof... from a distance
throw down to me a few handfuls of color
left over from your painting?
...I'm coming, you know!

I beg you, don't send me back empty-handed today!