献给文森特(Starry, starry night)
繁星点点的夜晚，
在你的调色板上留下片片灰与蓝，
而你直抵灵魂深处的眼睛，
仿佛夏日里热烈而欢快的时光。
山岭绵延起伏的背影，
勾勒出树木与水仙花婀娜的轮廓，
在雪后的亚麻色的原野上，
你的画笔捕捉着微微吹拂的冬天的冷风。
而今我终于明白了你想对我说些什么，
你为了使自己无异常人而忍受的痛苦，
以及你想要解放所有人心灵的愿望。
然而人们并不愿意倾听你说的，他们一点也不了解你。
或许现在，他们才知道自己错了。
繁星点点的夜晚，
怒放的向日葵像火一样闪耀，
在天鹅绒般的熏香里舒展着云朵，
像你中国瓷般的眼神一样单纯而无暇。
你像梦一样变换着色彩，
熹微的晨光里琥珀色的稻谷，
和痛苦支撑地枯萎的脸庞，
都在你怜爱的双手中获得慰藉。
而今我终于明白了你想对我说些什么，
你为了使自己无异常人而忍受的痛苦，
以及你想要解放所有人心灵的愿望。
然而人们并不愿意倾听你说的，他们一点也不了解你。
或许现在，他们才知道自己错了。
尽管这个世界并不接纳你，但你的爱却曾经是那么真实。
繁星点点的夜晚，
当希望消耗殆尽的时候，
你结束了自己的生命，就像戛然而止的爱情，
不过我还是想告诉你，文森特，
你的羽毛太过鲜亮，不应在这个世界的牢笼里被禁锢。
繁星点点的夜晚，
空空的大厅里挂着破败的肖像，
那无名的墙壁上的自画像，
不羁的眼睛望着喧闹的世界，
时间全部融化进记忆，
就像你见过的每一个衣衫褴褛的陌生人，
就像处女般圣洁的雪地上折断凋零的玫瑰，
血红的花瓣在根根银刺下闪耀。
而今我终于明白了你想对我说些什么，
你为了使自己无异常人而忍受的痛苦，
以及你想要解放所有人心灵的愿望。
然而人们并不愿意倾听你说的，
他们依旧不愿，或许永远都不愿了。
翻译|希童
歌词原文：
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,
And how you suffered for your sanity,
And 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 inside
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,
All 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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