Vincent

Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
　
Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of China blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.
　
Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will.

繁星点点的夜晚
为你的调色盘涂上灰与蓝
你在那夏日向外远眺
用你那双能洞悉我灵魂的双眼
山丘上的阴影
描绘出树木与水仙的轮廓
捕捉微风与冬日的冷洌
以色彩呈现在雪白的画布上
如今我才明白你想对我说的是什么
为自你己的清醒承受了多少的痛苦
你多么努力的想让它们得到解脱
但是人们却拒绝理会
那时他们不知道该如何倾听
或许他们现在会愿意听

繁星点点的夜晚
火红的花朵明艳耀眼
卷云在紫色的薄霭里飘浮
映照在文森特湛蓝的瞳孔中
色彩变化万千
清晨里琥珀色的田野
满布风霜的脸孔刻画着痛苦
在艺术家充满爱的画笔下得到了抚慰
如今我才明白你想对我说的是什么
你为自己的清醒承受了多少的痛苦
你多么努力的想让它们得到解脱
但是人们却拒绝理会
那时他们不知道该如何倾听
或许他们现在会愿意听
因为他们当时无法爱你
可是你的爱却依然真实
而当你眼中见不到任何的希望
在那个繁星点点的夜晚
你像许多绝望的恋人般结束了自己的生命
我多么希望能有机会告诉你，文森特
这个世界根本配不上
像你如此美好的一个人

繁星点点的夜晚
空旷的大厅里挂这一幅幅画像
无框的脸孔倚靠在无名的壁上
有着注视人世而无法忘怀的眼睛
就像你曾见过的陌生人
那些衣着褴褛，境遇堪怜的人
就像血红玫瑰上的银刺
饱受蹂躏之后静静躺在刚飘落的雪地上
如今我想我已明白你想对我说的是什么
你为自己的清醒承受了多少的苦痛
你多么努力的想让它们得到解脱
但是人们却拒绝理会
他们依然没有在倾听
或许他们永远也不会理解