One more time about little sketches

Some people like to draw the natures, the landscapes, cities architectures, some of them like to draw the abstract forms of geometric figures, and someone else like to depict the people and faces. I like the last thing and in fact to draw someone from my mind.

When i think about the difference between the people, about a great variety of tastes of everyone, I understand how big our world. Some people like Salvador Dali, someone likes Picasso,Van Gog or even see in Mondrian’s works the meaning of existence, and someone admires a simple kind of comics. All of them have their own conception of beauty. And all of them are right. If you don’t like some things, it doesn’t mean that the other person will agree with you. And in this case we just have to accept somebody’s views like our own.

When i see the works of some artist, who shows in his works some stuff, which can’t evoke emotion inside of me, I forget about him. But at such moments i think that someone else can watching my works and to become aware of the same feelings. And it’s alright.

I have to be ready, if someone will hurt me with words and misunderstanding. But I move on, holding my own way. Sometimes I like to draw some kind of children’s illustrations or to write gentle fairy tales. And i think it’s great, if you can show not only to the children but and to the adults through the such things something important, like sometime made one amazing man, name of whom is – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

I tried to translate in english one of my little poems. It was hard and it’s not so good… But…

To Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The Star

High above me, where are existing white moon,
In the nightly veil brightly are glowing the star:
Planets fly, comets shine, and the ray of sun lights
cleaving strings of the lines.

My dear writer, you’re not here, but all of your thoughts,
In my heart burn like fire.
Many years lost and passed, but your books are alive,
Everyone through the world know and love them and wait,

What sometime from the heaven to earth he’ll come down,
Boy, in who we believe and all wait like a fly.
Under blear dark and clouds, in the infinite height,
But around just a flashing moon lights in the sky.
I believe in your words, and somewhere overhead,
His soul lives and continues to go on his own planet.