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Vincent空灵女声

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发表于 2008-1-19 22:59:52 | 查看: 3486| 回复: 8

选自电影(漫步在云端)

美国民谣歌手Don McLean为纪念画家文森特·梵高写了这首歌

[wma]http://klmybbs.com/attachments/ext_mp3/0MfSuQ==_5bmmwlMvV7KB.mp3[/wma]

晚上

望着窗外的天空

听着Chloe Burgess唱的Starry，Starry Night

星星化成了眼泪...

繁星点点的夜里

用能看穿黑暗灵魂的眼睛

穿越炎炎的夏日

在画布画上蓝和灰

渲染山峦的阴影

勾画树木与水仙

凝固微风与冬天的寒意

在雪白的亚麻画布上画上各种色彩

现在我明白

你要告诉我的

世人皆醉你独醒的痛楚

你予世人精神自由的努力

他们不知道他们不愿听

可能现在愿意了

繁星点点的夜里

闪烁着流动的花儿

在紫色的薄雾中打漩的云彩

反射在文森特青灰色的眼里

变化的色调

清晨长满琥珀色的稻谷的田野

饱经风霜的脸上的痛苦的皱纹

在画家慈爱的手下抚平

现在我明白

你要告诉我的

世人皆醉你独醒的痛楚

你予世人精神自由的努力

他们不知道他们不愿听

可能现在原意了

因为他们不能爱你

但你仍报以真挚的爱

当你看不到希望在那

繁星点点的夜里

你象殉情的爱人一样结束自己的生命

但是我得告诉你文森特

这个世界从来不为像你这般美好的人存在

繁星点点的夜里

空荡荡的大厅里挂着一副副的肖像

无名的墙上没有画框的肖像

观察这世界久久不能相忘

就像曾经碰到的生疏人

那个倦怠的衣衫褴褛的生疏人

血色玫瑰上的银刺

在雪白的画布上支离破碎

现在我明白

你要告诉我的

世人皆醉你独醒的痛楚

你予世人精神自由的努力

他们不愿听他们仍不听

可能永远不愿意

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...

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