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.