Lime yellow and azure intertwine,
like the embrace of starlight and night,
The tranquility after the daytime clamor,
the surge of emotions and thoughts,
Is it Byron’s contemplative night,
or Van Gogh’s swirling starry sky?

In the turbulence of colors,
the soul awakens,
Brushstrokes speak, wild yet tender,
It is the monologue from the depths of the soul,
a hymn to existentialism.

Beneath the gentle touch of moonlight,
the earth slumbers,
The moon’s shadow is like poetry,
quietly and tenderly murmuring,
It is the night’s whisper,
the dreamlike murmurs of the stars.