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Poetry Window
2016.09.13 21:31

돈 맥클린, 빈센트/ Don McLean, Vincent

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IMG_1081.JPG

Vincent van Gogh (Dutch, 1853–1890), The Starry Night, Saint Rémy, June 1889, Oil on canvas, 29 x 36 1/4", MoMA Collection 



Vincent


Don McLean 


Starry, starry night

Paint your palette blue and gray

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

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


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 fields 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 in sight

On that starry, starry night


You took your life, as lovers often do

But I could've told you Vincent

This world was never meant for

One as beautiful as you


Starry, starry night

Portraits hung in empty halls

Frame-less heads on nameless walls

With eyes that watch the world and can't forget


Like the strangers that you've met

The ragged men in 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

And how you suffered for your sanity

And how you tried to set them free


They would not listen, they're not listening still

Perhaps they never will


*Don McLean, Vincent(Starry, Starry Night) <YouTube> 

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