Van Gogh in paradise

Vincent van Gogh like (the) sun is redhead,

Looked at the sky from the within
And drew like pours on the carpet
The shining of the dawning.
He knew that clouds are not white,
And the firmament isn’t blue.
He is the colorist. The bolder gritty
He lashed the canvas with his claw.
He saw the breaking of the Phoebus
In the smallest drop of rain
In a droplet rainbow laughs…
He also laughs the colors finding.
And here's an angel comes to Van Gogh
And reports: Well, you know, there on Earth
They have recently expanded the frames.
Your creations are in the glass of museums and galleries,
They are in the hall of fame!
And soon there will be a whole world!
Subsided in disgruntled grumble.
You are a former enemies idol.
Then the angel was too kid,
And youth is so good,
That doesn’t let in a boring chill
In one’s careless mood.
Van Gogh knew about the world a lot…
He knew where the mind goes.
And he said that he saw God.
So, why can’t I find my happy soul?

(в пер. В. Унгурян)

***

Я понял, что всё в жизни – полный бред,

Что я живу себе и всем во вред,

Что я не буду радостью согрет

И не познаю вкус больших побед,

Что ждёт меня закат, а не рассвет.

Палитра этой жизни – серый цвет.

Неважно, сколько, проживу я лет,

Мне не оставить в этой жизни след.

Я устарею, как домашний плед.

Опустошусь, как большинство планет,

Ведь для меня погас вселенский свет

В тот день, когда она сказала «Нет».

***

I’ve realized that life is full of nonsense,

That all my deeds are aimed at harming people

And those won’t warm me up with feelings they posses.

Moreover, I’m pretty sure, I won’t be able to taste a bittersweet success.

The rising beams chose rather (to) stay aside, yet

Afterglow is dangling to itself and saying:

“Please, keep in mind – your life is just an overflow of all the shades of grey”.

It doesn’t really matter which years will be final ones,

As I won’t leave a mark, that dazzles in the darkness.

Those standing by my side or just around

Will mix me up with plaid I’m covered.

Believe me, I feel myself like hallow planet,

That sensed the last spark of the light

You wonder what I shall compare

The answer will be: “Your indifferent sight”.

(в пер. Е. Бондаренко)

***

I understand that nothing makes sense.

And only live to the detriment of others.

And nothing warms me.

I will not succeed in this.

And the sunset is waiting for me, not the sunrise.

How hard it is for me to live without bright colors!

Because it does not matter how long I will live.

After me there will be nothing, only blank sheet.

There will be something in common

between me and the old rug.

And I will become as empty

as most planets in space are.

Because without you nothing makes sense.

(в пер. В. Колевой)

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