To paint with the colours of wind,
I'll take up a brush of smoke.
To mix the paint, I will breathe in,
"Come cold and warm," my mouth invokes.
You're still asleep, I work at night.
My canvas is a simple mirror.
I seek my eyes to draw you
Until the picture's done.
You'll wake up to see my work
At the start of dawn.
Gaze upon it and you'll see:
Your portrait is a sunrise at open sea.
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