“I could have told you Vincent,this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.海德格尔说：他生下来，他画画，他死了。但我找到一句泰戈尔的诗更像你：炽热的焰火说，燃烧的是我的花朵也是死亡。”

歌 曲：《Vincent》

歌 手：Don McLean

Starry, starry night

繁星点点的夜里

paint your palette blue and grey

画出你调色盘里的蓝与灰

look out on a summer's day

在夏日里出外探访

with eyes that know the darkness in my soul.

用你那洞悉我灵魂幽暗处的双眼

Shadows on the hills

山丘上的阴影

sketch the trees and the daffodils

描绘出树林与水仙花

Starry starry night

繁星点点的夜里

flaming flowers that brightly blaze

火红的花朵灿烂的燃烧著

swirling clouds in violet haze

漩涡似的云飘在紫罗兰色的雾里

reflect in Vincent's eyes of China blue.

映照在文生湛蓝的眼瞳里

Colors changing hue

色彩变化万千

For they could not love you

因为当初他们无法爱你

but still your love was true

但你的爱依然真切

and when no hope was left in sight on that

当灿烂的星空里

starry starry night.

不存一丝希望

You took your life as lovers often do,

你像许多恋人一样，结束了自己的生命

But I could have told you Vincent

但愿我能告诉你，文森特

this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

这个世界根本配不上一个美丽如你的人

Starry starry night

繁星点点的夜里

portraits hung in empty halls

一幅幅的肖像悬挂在空荡荡的大厅里

frameless heads on nameless walls

无镶框的脸倚靠在不知名的墙上

with eyes that watch the world and can't forget.

配上一双看遍世事且永不遗忘的双眼

Like the stranger that you've met

就像你曾遇见的陌生人

the ragged men in ragged clothes

那些衣衫褴褛的人们

the silver thorn of bloddy rose

也像血红的玫瑰上银色的刺

lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

断裂并静卧在初下的雪上