繁星閃閃之夜 - Starry, starry night.
- by DON MCLEAN 老敏譯詩
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.
現在我明白你想告訴我什麼
如何為保持神智清楚而受苦
如何試著讓這一切自由
他們不聽, 也不想明白如何能夠
如今或許他們願意聆聽
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.
現在我明白你想告訴我什麼
如何為保持神智清楚而受苦
如何試著讓這一切自由
他們不聽, 也不想明白如何能夠
如今或許他們願意聆聽
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.
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.
They're not listening still. Perhaps they never will
