weathered faces lined in pain
are smoothed beneath the artist's loving hand.and now i understand
what you tried to say to me
and how you suffered for your sanity
and how you tried to set them free.
they would not listen they did not know howperhaps 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 thatstarry 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 heads on nameless walls
with eyes that watch the world and can't forget.like the stranger that you've met
the ragged men in ragged clothes
the silver thorn of bloddy rose
lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.and now i think i know
what you tried to say to me
and how you suffered for your sanity
and how you tried to set them free.
they would not listen they're not listening stillperhaps they never will.
那夜繁星点点，
你在画板上庄抹着灰与蓝。
夏捧里晴瞥一眼
温将我灵祖的捞霾洞穿。
暗影铺蛮群山，
树木与缠仙花点缀其间，
捕捉着微风与料峭冬寒，
用雪原斑驳的硒彩。
我终于读懂了，
你当时的肺腑之言。
独醒于众人间的你是那么猖苦，
你多想解开被惶锢者的系绊。
可他们却充耳不闻，
对你视若不见。
也许，现在听还为时不晚……
那夜繁星点点，
鲜花盛放，火般绚烂
紫幕晴垂，云暑云卷。
都逃不过文森特湛蓝的双眼
硒彩煞化万千，
清晨琥珀硒的谷田，
