The wind shrieks, the wind grieves; It dashes the leaves on walls, it whirls then again; And the enormous sleeper vaguely and stupidly dreams And desires to stir, to resist a ghost of pain.

'I bound her to me in all soft ways, I bound her to me in a net of days, Yet now she has gone in silence and said no word. How can we face these dazzling thing…

We reach vague-gesturing hands, we lift our heads, Hear sounds far off,-and dream, with quivering breath, Our curious separate ways through life and death.

My veins are afire with music, Her eyes have kissed me, my body is turned to light; I shall dream to her secret heart tonight...

With this painting, I tried to make everything breathe faith, quiet suffering, religious and primitive style and great nature with its scream.

Every death even the cruellest death drowns in the total indifference of Nature Nature herself would watch unmoved if we destroyed the entire human race I hate…

Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!