Текст песни Сергей Плотницкий - Ю.Левитанский. Время, бесстрашный художник

Time, fearless artist,
as if on white pages
writes and writes everything
on human faces.

A stylus leads on the skin.
A thin feather, too.
The sharp needle of an engraver.
Precise hand make-up artist ...

The mystery of light and shadow.
Arrows, circles and squares.
Our early losses.
Our later losses.

Dash of our bestiality.
Spots birthmarks of fear.
The burden of family resemblance
with god and a handful of dust.

Our stinginess and generosity.
Our vanity and futility.
Hypocrisy or pride.
Courage and virtue ...

Here is a man painted
so that he already hurts.
He already asks:
             - Enough
You see, I’m all painted!

But he doesn’t hear his request
the exacting master.
So he threw off the felt-tip pen,
writes with a thin brush.

I already took a feather in my hand -
writes suicide.
The very last touch.
A little dash only ...

So us from the first scream
and to the last breath
writes in his own time
(era, century, era).

Writes in a conditional manner
and as they once wrote.
Like square plywood
mournful date is written.

Reflections. Glare. Glare.
White spots and gouache.
Our sinless faces.
Our sinful faces ...

Here is a man among the field
fell, and his eyes were empty.
Died in a home bed.
Out of the eternal battle.

He is no longer a warrior in the field.
Hand move is not free.
Will no longer say:
            - Enough! -
Everything. He doesn't hurt anymore.