O thin men of Haddam, Why do you imagine golden birds? Do you not see how the blackbird Walks around the feet Of the women about you?

I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendoes, The blackbird whistling Or just after.

I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms; But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know.

A man and a woman Are one. A man and a woman and a blackbird Are one.

No poet, in his greatest imaginings, could conceive of anything greater than the real;

As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea A vision came o'er me Of thundering hooves and beating wings In clouds above.

Une peinture, c'est d'abord un produit de l'imagination de l'artiste, ce ne doir jamais etre une copie. Si, ensuite, on peut y ajouter deux ou trois accents de…