One evening I was walking
out on a hilly path
near Kristiania—
with two comrades. It
was a time when life
had ripped my
soul open.
The sun was going down—had
dipped in flames
below the horizon.
It was like
a flaming sword
of blood slicing through
the concave of heaven.
The sky was like
blood—sliced with
strips of fire
—the  hills turned
deep blue
the fjord—cut in
cold blue, yellow, and
red colors—
The exploding
bloody red—on
the path and hand railing
—my friends turned
glaring yellow white—
—I felt
a great scream

These are two of the several versions of The Scream painted by Munch

—and I heard, yes, a great
scream—
the colors in
nature—broke
the lines of nature
—the lines and colors
vibrated with motion
—these oscillations of life
brought not only
my eye into oscillations,
it brought also my
ear into oscillations—
so I actually heard
a scream—
I painted
the picture Scream then.