…After painting two Jesus’ portraits I wanted to do something fast, bright and different. I didn’t know if it would be a reality, a fantasy or a dream. Maybe - all of them. I did not want the painting to look too realistic, because that’s just how I felt: after one of my paintings was stolen and returned, after the time when very few understood my work and after the time when we almost found ourselves on the street, I felt like that chick trying to cross the water to smell the tulilips, but not being able to swim. I even painted a flute out of the proper composition just to get the feeling of breaking. You can even see the reflection of the children fishing off the tear drops. This painting is both sad and happy. And the tulilips are the lips of the tulips. They represent affection and safety. I like to create new words. It’s like discovering new stars…


Tulilips

Turning away from home
an iceberg meets a child’s cry.
Its motion is deeper
than any emotion!
The infant touch
washes the dense redwood trees
stretched in drowsiness.

Collapsing waterfall slips on a rock
breaking a flute.
It is too early for bubbles to come out of the rush!
Along the horizon
where the sky still looks iron hard,
the glass-like traffic leaves
the dreams of song landscapes alone.

On the way home
the rags on the road are passed by.
That is the same road that leads
to a broken maple next to an old sandcastle.
The nestling holds each of mother’s ochre feathers
sensing that beneath the pulse of mocking memory
is a journey pebble with a hole!

Turning like a pale chalk
he grips the ground
to hear
the alarm of the tulilips
and to hear
the blinking resurrection lie down
above the long arch of the roots…