Final Touch
Ygyatta · 2011 · Track 4
I am the successor, the keeper, the guardian of traditions
Of the great Flemish masters and the masters of Italy.
With my keen and experienced gaze,
I glide over hips and waists.
My palette and brushes have been waiting for me,
And catching inspiration is helped by half a liter.
Enlightened and joyous right from the morning,
I will lay down a test stroke on the blank canvas.
On the avenue on a summer night, I gather my herbarium.
You, my palette and brushes, have been waiting for me!
And catching inspiration is helped by half a liter.
Enlightened and joyous right from the morning,
I will lay down a test stroke on the blank canvas.
But really, being a painter isn't always romantic.
For instance, a drunken model once barged in on me:
She hiccuped, neighed, cried, spat in the corners and on the easels.
And then, knocking over the paints, she collapsed under the table.
Collapsed under the table and started howling plaintively, with anguish.