在我的音乐典藏里只有三类歌：第一类歌是以优美的旋律刺激我的神经；第二类歌是以深刻蕴意拨动我的心弦；第三类歌当然是以至高境界——词曲的完美结合来征服我的灵魂。
《Vincent》这首歌虽然只是属于第二类，但是它却是我的挚爱。不知道为什么，每次听到这首歌时，总有一种莫名的心痛挥之不去。一半当然是因为 Vincent·Van·Gogh，另一半是因为这首歌的创作者——Don·Mclean。《Vincent》是Mclean欣赏了凡高的作品《星空》之后激情创作的。这首歌的曲风同其它乡村民谣相比，并无异质，还是那种散发着淡淡的幽香的小品文风格。它的过人之处在于它那发人深省的歌词上。Mclean 用他那诗人般的手笔向我们展示了一幅又一幅的优美画卷，同时也以他那天才般的敏锐洞悉出凡高内心的苦楚，表达了对这位天才画家的深深的理解与敬意。歌中Mclean 用极尽绚烂的词藻来描绘凡高的画，旨在表现凡高那灿若向日葵般的生命。当凡高躺在弟弟提奥德怀里静静的离开这个世界上时，他才37岁。天才的生命总是异常的短暂，但却绚烂若夏花。凡高以如火的热情畅游于艺术的海洋，虽然周遭充满了鄙夷与曲解，虽然他时常被饥饿与寒冷折磨，但是他那永不枯竭的创作灵感从来没有被不公的命运所扼杀。他以惊人的创作力为世界艺术宝库留下了以笔巨大的财富。然而，天才不是神人。他同凡人一样，他也会彷徨，也有脆弱的时候。所以，Mclean又以朴实无华的语言来倾诉凡高内心的痛苦，以象“when there is no hope left inside on that starry starry night,you took your life as lovers often do.”这样凄婉的语句来暗示凡高的自杀。
从这首歌中，我们不难体会到一种英雄惜英雄的情感。Mclean 是一位才华横溢的民谣歌手，但是他的星途却充满坎坷，他总是被美国的主流音乐排斥在外。他曾经沦落到街头唱歌的地步，这不失为一种悲哀。其实整首歌也是Mclean在向世人诉说自己的苦痛。他以极为柔和的歌调折射出满腔的哀怨。但我想说的是，因为天才总是被世俗所曲解，所以能洞悉天才内心的人本身就是天才。让我们向凡高和Mclean这两位天才致敬吧。
星月夜(Starry Starry Night)歌词
Starry starry night
Paint your palette blue and grey
Look out on a summer’s day
With eyes know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
In colors on the snowy linen land
(★)Now I understand what you try 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 aritist’s loving hand
(repeat ★)
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 heats on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget
Like the strangers that you ‘ve met
The ragged man in ragged clothes
A silver thorn in a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow
Now I think I know what you try to say to me
That how you suffered for your sanity
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you try to set them free
They would not listen they’ve not listening still
Perhaps they never will