Текст песни Витас - Слепой художник

He fatally lonely
How to 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.

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

Blind artist without knowing the color
In winter, cold summer draws.
Blind artist does not see colors,
But the picture it as a fairy tale.

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

Blind artist without knowing the color
In winter, cold summer draws.
Blind artist does not see colors,
But the picture it as a fairy tale.