Em Novembro a revista Rolling Stone elegeu esta música de Bob Dylan como a melhor de sempre. Desde Novembro que tenho um texto, ainda nos rascunhos, acerca da importância que Bob Dylan teve, e tem, em mim. Há uns dias escrevi que podia ser pior e que nem toda a gente pode ser da geração Bob Dylan. Também já aqui coloquei a letra do Forever Young e mais tarde a música. Por isso há notícias que me satisfazem.
Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn’t you?
People’d call, say, “Beware doll, you’re bound to fall”
You thought they were all kiddin’ you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin’ out
Now you don’t talk so loud
Now you don’t seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
You’ve gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you’re gonna have to get used to it
You said you’d never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He’s not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and theclowns
When they all did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain’t no good
You shouldn’t let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain’t it hard when you discover that
He really wasn’t where it’s at
After he took from you everything he could steal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They’re drinkin’, thinkin’ that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you’d better lift your diamond ring, you’d better pawn itbabe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can’t refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You’re invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
Posted by Calhau rolado da fortaleza on 9 August 2005 @ 1am
Partilho o mesmo sentimento.
O meu encontro com Dylan passou-se da seguinte forma: fui acampar uns dias com um amigo para a Praia da Mijona. Não levámos tenda: o “alojamento” era numa pequena gruta no lado esquerdo da praia. A noites eram sobressaltadas com queda de pequenas pedras, que ao cairem na praia de calhaus provocavam um eco assustador.
Esse meu amigo, o Guilherme (de Almada mas com família de Sesimbra) levou um gira-discos portátil e alguns LPs, entre eles “Bringing it all back home”, de Dylan.
De todos os discos, o de Dylan era o mais estranho e o que pareceia ter menos interesse.
O gira-discos era colocado de manhã sobre uma pequena palete de madeira que o mar arrastara para a praia. Os discos tocaram vezes sem conta, e alguns acabaram mesmo por ondular com o calor. Mas nessa altura o virus Dylan já tinha feito o seu trabalho – eu tornara-me dependente daquelas músicas.
Posted by J.A. on 9 August 2005 @ 11am
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