Archivio per la Categoria ‘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 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.
Swirling clouds in violent haze, reflecting Vincent’s eyes
that shine of 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,
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.
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 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, the 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’re not listening still.
Perhaps, they never will.
Don McLean, New Rochelle – NY – 1945 
Vincent Van Gogh, Groot Zundert 1853 – Un campo nei pressi di Auverse 1890
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