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,
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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这是我在家的第n个夜晚，
闷热的夏夜，没有一丝风~
远处隐约传来汽车的喇叭声音，树上知了不知疲倦的叫声，还有楼下晚归人的脚步声。
坐在这里即使什么都不做，还是会渗出一身的汗。
指尖轻轻敲击键盘，敲出这一身的烦闷。
是的，第n个一样的夏天的晚上，我轻轻敲击着键盘，却不知道到底要说些什么...
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