I have embarked on a journey of love. To make my paintings sing, I have transformed myself completely, and I am pleased to share these writings with you.
I named this fusion "The Letters of Love," where the art of color conceals it like in a tale. To achieve this, I adopted the guise of poetry and accompanied my paintings as a guest.
I believe that my paintings and verses will adorn the walls of your homes and blend with your family's happiness. Such sentiments from afar uplift my heart.
Love and knowledge have opened a door for us from the world of illusions, and I am infinitely grateful to them for this. I also extend my gratitude to my friends who appreciate the arts, and to everyone.
I look forward to meeting you again through new paintings, books, and wondrous melodies.
After the Saturday prayer, 19:23
The entire creative and spiritual life of Robishan is illuminated by one great passion: to serve beauty and simplicity. Since his early childhood, the perfect ideal of beauty—embodied in the most splendid women, nature, poetry, music, and science—has settled in his heart. Fate has generously awarded the young artist with many talents, the highest of which is the talent of devoted love, whose warm breath is felt in each of his works. Robishan is an artist not only by his trade but by his calling, way of life, elevated harmony of thoughts and feelings, vision of the world, and attitude toward people and art. His works reveal an inseparable match of colors and lines in painting and drawing with the word, which is fundamental to any creativity in all its forms, from the poetic state of mind to novels and lyrical poems in prose. And here is his music, embodying the highest harmony of being in the consonance of cosmic spheres. The mastery of Robishan—intellectual and sensual, refined and exquisite—is a unique phenomenon unparalleled in modern art. The maestro brings a spark of perfection into this often cruel and inhuman world. He restores a belief in all of us that love, beauty, and goodness will eventually triumph over hatred and evil.
Cheers, Maestro, you are a genius!
You lived in me.
Remembering you in cold weather, I warmed myself up,
feeding you with pigeon milk,
and when it was hot, I covered you with an umbrella of bright flowers.
When autumn leaves rustled in the garden, you were vivid in my dreams.
Oh, my spring fantasies!
I long for you in the ordeal of adieu.
Keep loving me; you are my great hope.
There are your footsteps on the paths, and lanes, and avenues;
void of your melodies is still and silent...
The quiet night
In the room where you had planted convolvulus, I spent so much time thinking of you.
Place my palms on your breast, and you'll feel the beating of my heart.
My palms got so used to your body that they could shape your silhouette in space.
Birds that flew above my house embraced my thoughts and took me for one of their own.
The moon above my house illuminated everything around with a velvet shine.
Since my childhood, I have been accustomed to gazing upon the moon, each time discovering something new.
The starry morning 5:55
The birds to whom we tossed seeds from our window have built a nest of tunes deep in their hearts devoted to you.
Mermaids play the music, angels dance, dolphins sing, and birds bring twigs in their beaks to decorate your window.
They call you and invite you.
The morning... I gathered all the stars and scattered them over my canvas.
I dreamt up a story for each star and painted all of them in different colors.
You are my high art; you are my bitter pain.
Friday's deceptive dream 7:00 in the morning
One more day. It came and it passed.
No matter how I begged, I could not keep it. "Stay here! Don't leave," I cried shamelessly.
It did not wait; it did not linger and disappeared in the mist.
Even when I am with you, I am away from you. You are among the angels, oh, my Angel!
If dreams turned to reality, I would see you every day.
We would hold hands, arrest time, and fly up heaven-high, and birds would envy us.
The spring happy day 11:15
Each day I build for you big cities of broken grass in all colors of the rainbow, and at the center of each, I sculpt your figure out of tropical fruit.
Holding hands, we orbit the imaginary planet, closing half circles of the rainbow.
If your breast can hold a stone, then turn me into that stone, for your touch is art.
Let me imbibe the nectar of your love and work a miracle.
Turn the ocean of tears in my heart into a shower of hot rain.
Play, fiddler, play!
Tonight I am a different man; do play a song for me.
I cannot write; I cannot say all that is on my mind, and the lines are floating before my eyes.
Play for my thoughts to mingle with your tunes and disappear in the hearts of...