Текст и перевод песни 王菀之 - 畫意

畫意

被人嫌怪 被人辭退 被情人騙去
絕望的感情傻到留下耳朵
給情人做裝飾的怪客
誰受過怕感動 還是覺得驚嚇
苦戀之痛全被抹殺

百病貧困 仍然無悔
未曾賣過 仍舊畫畫
只是為了呈現世間光明
來叫開心可散發
無視血色蒼白 忘掉過得蕭煞
色彩鮮暖全是自發

你 聽過梵高吧 值幾多百
他那人格 難剖白
求存人人明白
看 他有權亂去畫
也許口袋 也不致一片空白

畫完無數麥田和向日葵
贏到了後代的收藏研究
無奈有生之年才售得出一個客
無奈那種鉤勒 無奈那種筆法
一幅心血才值二百

萬人做上 萬年難買 藝術傑作
從未獲得當時留意
難道人死商業才計得到他價格
難道妥協一劃 難道放棄風格
跟風一下然後暴發

你 聽過梵高吧 值幾多百
只有人格 難表白 求存人人明白
看 他有權亂去畫
也許口袋 也不致一片空白

賣完又買 賣完又買
憑誰訂價 憑賣藝討生活
誰會淪落似這精神病院關起的過客
難活到了不惑 留下了他風格
很想清醒無奈病發

你 聽過梵高吧 值幾多百
只有人格 難表白 求存人人明白
看 他有權亂去畫
也許口袋 也不致一片空白
看 一個人的命 或者悲慘
他到臨終 仍肯畫 仍然貢獻世間
看 他看長夜星空
哪種燦爛 顯得世間太蒼白

Artistic Intent

Despised by others, laid off, and cheated by a lover
Hopeless romantic, foolishly donating an ear
A strange being adorning a lover
Who has grown numb to emotion, finds it terrifying
The agony of unrequited love completely erased

Riddled with illnesses and poverty, yet unwavering
Never selling out, continuing to paint
Only wanting to display the world's light
To spread joy
Ignoring the pale complexion, forgetting the bleak existence
Creating vibrant colors spontaneously

You've heard of Van Gogh, worth millions
His character hard to define
Survival understandable to all
Look, he had the freedom to paint as he wished
Perhaps his pockets weren't always empty

Painting countless wheat fields and sunflowers
Earning the admiration of future collectors and scholars
Yet only managing to sell one during his lifetime
The masterful strokes, the unique style
A masterpiece worth only two hundred

Thousands created, rarely appreciated, works of art
Never receiving contemporary attention
Must a person die before their work is valued?
Must one compromise their vision, abandon their style?
Follow trends and achieve financial success?

You've heard of Van Gogh, worth millions
Only character hard to define, survival understandable to all
Look, he had the freedom to paint as he wished
Perhaps his pockets weren't always empty

Selling and buying, selling and buying
Who sets the price? Selling art to make a living
Who would end up in an asylum like this fallen soul?
Living until middle age, leaving behind his unique style
Longing for clarity, but illness persists

You've heard of Van Gogh, worth millions
Only character hard to define, survival understandable to all
Look, he had the freedom to paint as he wished
Perhaps his pockets weren't always empty
Look at a person's destiny, perhaps tragic
On his deathbed, still painting, contributing to the world
Look, he gazes at the starry night
Its brilliance making the world seem pale