—V. van Gogh, letters, 1873–1890, edited by I. Stone, translated by Johanna van Gogh

Oh, lad, I should like to have you here
To show you my lodgings.
I have, for instance, real
Kitchen chairs, and a real strong kitchen table.

I am going to draw it, and work at it
Until I have fixed it on paper.

What is drawing? How does one learn it?
To better my life—don’t you think I eagerly desire it?
Cannot I serve some purpose and be of any good?
Do you think we too shall be at the evening of our life?

There is a yellow sky over everything.
I am seeking for blue all the time.
I am thinking of planting two oleanders in tubs.
Perhaps I shall begin to look about for greens.

Why should not the shining dots of the sky
Be as accessible as the black dots on the map of France?

When shall I get back to that other world?
My God, where is my child? Is living alone
Worthwhile? And then I said to myself, You
Are not becoming melancholy again, are you?

So, lad, do come and paint with me
On the heath, in the potato field; come
And walk with me behind the plough and the shepherd.

I think so often of that walk on the Ryswyk road,
Where we drank milk after the rain, at the mill.