FIBRA SOBRE PAPEL DE ILUSTRACIÓN
17 de marzo de 2010
Suscribirse a:
Enviar comentarios (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
"Menos es más" Mies Van der Rohe
"Menos es más" Mies Van der Rohe
Páginas
El arte es una mentira que nos permite reconocer la verdad.
ir a
Todo
-
►
2011
(29)
- ► septiembre (1)
-
▼
2010
(36)
- ► septiembre (3)
-
▼
marzo
(17)
- MI PRIMER CUADRO EN ÓLEO
- ESMALTE SINTÉTICO SOBRE LIENZO Intento de Jackson ...
- CAJAS
- MI PRIMER CUADRO ♥ AÑO 2000
- CARPETAS
- FIBRA SOBRE PAPEL DE ILUSTRACIÓN
- FIBRA ACUARELADA SOBRE PAPEL
- ACRÍLICO SOBRE PAPEL
- SEPARADORES SOBRE CARTULINA TAMAÑO A4 ACUARELA
- ACRÍLICO SOBRE FIBROFÁCIL
- ÓLEO SOBRE LIENZO18x24cm
- ÓLEO SOBRE LIENZO7x10cm
- ÓLEO SOBRE LIENZO35x45cm
- ÓLEO SOBRE LIENZO35x45cm
- ACRÍLICO SOBRE LIENZO18x24cm
- Después de ochocientos meses de creado el blog, al...
Seguidores
Starry, starry night
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…
Don McLean
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…
Don McLean
Starry, starry night
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario
Me interesa saber qué pensás..