Ушла к реалистам [Ushla K Realistam] [English translation]

Among these high-rises and all this fuss

I found you — my ray of beauty.

You were surreal, I wanted

To spend my days painting

Your thoughts, your hands.

Out of boredom, you let me

Paint all of you the next day at 5.

I created the warmth and tenderness of summer in colors,

The fire heat, the lines of light - just like within your eyes.

You shout: "Take back

This disgusting portrait!

I'm a model, not an abstract

Yellow-pink object".

I thought you'd get it, thought we'd fly up to the sky

But I forgot one detail: avant-garde is not in this season, realism is.

You crushed my oil paints, tore the canvas,

Even though I drew you with the most tender paint.

My frantic avant-garde paradise will open up wide.

You left me for a realist, stupid, now rot away, both of you!

I know who's going to turn your lips into a sketch tomorrow.

But remember that a realist can't paint just everything:

He can draw your hands, legs and the eye color,

But he won't capture your doubt and your anxiety,

Won't transfer your heart, your name onto a sheet.

Cause you're a goddess and he's nothing but an atheist.

I thought you'd get it, thought we'd fly up to the sky

But I forgot one detail: avant-garde is not in this season, realism is.

You crushed my oil paints, tore the canvas,

Even though I drew you with the most tender paint.

My frantic avant-garde paradise will open up wide.

You left me for a realist, stupid, now rot away, both of you!

You crushed my oil paints, tore the canvas,

Even though I drew you with the most tender paint.

My frantic avant-garde paradise will open up wide.

You left me for a realist, stupid, now rot away, both of you!