The very condition of colours and lines speaks for itself, I don't need to say anything. The painter has exacted their revenge by depicting life's true picture.

This couplet explores the agonizing feeling that life itself is not organic, but a carefully constructed piece of art. The poet suggests that the very 'design' of existence speaks volumes, even if he doesn't articulate it. The 'painter' (artist/fate) has taken revenge by painting life into a predetermined picture, suggesting that human experience is merely a manufactured drama, devoid of true spontaneity.