《文森特》这首歌是歌手Don McLean为纪念荷兰画家文森特·梵高而作。1971年，在读过一本介绍荷兰画家文森特·梵高的书之后，Don McLean写下了此歌。歌中所描述的很多都是梵高的画作与坎坷的经历。今天，如果你去荷兰的梵高博物馆，也会听到这首歌曲。　　

文森特

那夜繁星点点

在你画板涂抹灰与蓝

夏日里轻瞥一眼

便将我灵魂的阴霾洞穿

暗影铺满群山

树木与水仙点缀其间

用雪原斑驳的色彩

捕捉微风与料峭冬寒

我终于读懂了

你的肺腑之言

独醒于众人间, 你是何等痛苦

你多想给他们自由

他们充耳不闻

他们置若罔闻

也许，现在听还为时不晚……

那夜繁星点点

鲜花盛放，火般绚烂

紫幕轻垂，云舒云卷

映入文森特湛蓝的双眼

色彩变换

清晨田地琥珀灰

张张饱经风霜与苦痛的脸

在画家笔下渐渐舒展

我终于读懂了

你的肺腑之言

独醒于众人间, 你是何等痛苦

你多想给他们自由

他们却充耳不闻

他们置若罔闻

也许，现在听还为时不晚……

他们无法爱你

你对他们的爱却是真挚

当最后一点希望都一去不返

在那繁星点点的夜晚

你象恋人常做的那样，结束自己的生命

文森特，我本该告诉你

这世间，配不上像你这样美好的灵魂

那夜繁星点点

肖像挂在空荡的大厅

头像没有画框，挂在无名的墙

眼睛凝视这个世界，令人难忘

就像你曾遇见的陌生人

落魄的人，破烂的衣

玫瑰血红，利刺银白

零落成泥，摧折寸断，散落初雪

我终于读懂了

你的肺腑之言。

独醒于众人间，你是何等痛苦

你多想给他们自由

而他们根本不会听

此刻，仍无人在听

也许，永远不会。 

Vincent

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.

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.

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.

Now I think I know 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're not listening still.

Perhaps they never will...