The Red Vineyards at Arles

Poem inspired by Van Gogh’s painting “The Red Vineyards at Arles.”

Scattered like sparks by the sun’s golden fire,
Mistral disperses them, wild on the sand.
Crimson the clusters, and crimson the briar,
Crimson the leaves of this furious land.

The vine beats and writhes in a feverish spasm,
Far in the haze, poplars shimmer in blue.
Echoes ring out over fields in their chasm,
Black-red convulsions that burn through and through.

Oh, someone help me! My God, I implore you!
How the grape eyes are weeping in pain!
Colors are mad, and their skin has been torn through.
Rhone bears its waters upstream once again.

Stop, you who steal all my reason and vision!
Let me escape, let me go, set me free!
Do not brand me like plague with derision,
Like a curse on a sorrowful journey to be.

My eyes are scorched by these yellowish embers,
My body is wounded by merciless gales.
Crimson the leaves, and the clusters one remembers,
Crimson the leaves—Arles, tormented Arles.