Sufficient paints have been assembled,
Brushes, too, lie at the ready,
Canvas has been stretched
And only awaits the hand
That [with]1 colourful flames
Shall skillfully strew life upon the surface.
 
And you [must yet]2 sit pondering;
You draw back your hand?
Only let that which inwardly
Has [quietly and purely]3 shaped itself
Acquire form for us as well.
Let it reveal itself to our gaze.
 
Or if it is still unfinished,
That image that circles [in your thoughts],
Then arise and do not gaze
Any longer upon the tools
Until the image is given the strength
To burst from its veil. --
 
He who fills canvas or air
With colours or musical sounds,
Should hold fast to this maxim:
That art cannot be coerced,
That it does not swell forth in response to [pale]4 indulgence
As the crop [swells forth] from the field.