Cezanne's immortals

Eyes downcast.

After the day's toil.

a country looking cigar

in their mouth.

Decrepit tavern,

a brownish tablecloth,

some unknown country drink

sits on the table.

Or

it must be wine.

It's France, after all.

Orchards are replaced by vineyards here.

Both of them,

mill workers or ironsmiths or carpenters

or peasants,

their eyes intent,

on the game below.

They will not lift their gaze,

they will not take another sip of wine,

they will not part the cigar from their lips

until the game is over.

Cezanne ceased the game, forever.

The game, the peasants,wine,tavern,cigar

and Cezanne himself,Immortalised.

I see the painting.

They're unknown figures.

They'll remain unknown and

immortal.

P.S. : Needless to say, the above masterpiece is Paul Cezanne's The Card Players.