[00:15.96] |
No one knows the joy when you creat. |
[00:24.62] |
By definition, something out of nothing. |
[00:33.07] |
Colours, canvas, light. |
[00:39.67] |
But Christ is the light bulb. |
[00:42.78] |
The sunlight Vincent down in Arles. |
[00:51.27] |
You painted nudes, I painted flowers. |
[00:55.98] |
We drank that cloudy absinthe all night long. |
[01:06.80] |
And the women we loved were loose. |
[01:13.46] |
When we lived in the yellow house. |
[01:32.17] |
In the yellow house life was ideal. |
[01:39.95] |
By definition, something one imagines. |
[01:48.41] |
Painters, brothers, friends. |
[01:53.88] |
At least till the end came. |
[01:58.36] |
Complete surprise, attack of range, |
[02:04.46] |
A most peculiar place to shave. |
[02:11.51] |
In time our championship went wrong. |
[02:21.99] |
But the pictures are living proof of our life in the yellow house. |
[03:16.73] |
Ruined studio of the south. |
[03:29.06] |
Three short months in the yellow house. |
[03:43.71] |
I never knew that the malady was madness. |
[03:50.29] |
Neither did I my friend, |
[03:53.12] |
it sneaks on you from behind. |
[03:56.58] |
I believed your condition had improved. |
[04:02.04] |
I was convinced that hard work and our friendship would cure me. |
[04:10.59] |
I was blind to your suffering forgive me. |
[04:15.91] |
You always helped me when you could. |
[04:19.07] |
You did your best, at least you tried. |
[04:22.16] |
But not enough to distract you from the end... |
[04:34.37] |
A wheat field with crows and those cypresses in starry night. |
[04:43.78] |
You painted sunflowers is how I remember you. |
[04:52.46] |
Only my pistol can comfort this sadness tonight. |