Текст песни Витас - Слепой художник

He fatally lonely
Like a sail in the sea.
Being blind from birth
What grief.
From the house, he did not come out - afraid to fall.
Still, he did not take offense at destiny.

Was an outlet in his existence.
How strange, but he himself found in the drawing.
He painted still lifes and landscapes,
His work never even seen.

Blind artist, not knowing color
Cold winter draws summer.
Blind artist does not see color,
But all the pictures it as a fairy tale.

In his paintings cry from the heart was torn out.
And everyone saw them as their own and wondered:
how to draw happiness, love not knowing
And pandemonium place in front of paradise.

Blind artist, not knowing color
Cold winter draws summer.
Blind artist does not see color,
But all the pictures it as a fairy tale.