...es el principio y el fin.

martes, agosto 21, 2007

Tangled up in magenta



Hay tanto que contar este verano que he decidido no hacerlo.

No podría soportar otra vez las emociones.

A mitad de sus asimilación y proceso, les dejo con el tito Bob. Esta canción (que me aclaró diversas cosas y me abrió una puerta) no se titularía así si el amigo Dylan la hubiese visto a ella con su vestido magenta.

Incapaz de olvidar a una princesa a la que (sospecho, imagino, temo) no volveré a ver nunca, y por la que casi me traiciono a mí mismo, pienso en ella escuchando una canción cuyo título ella me tradujo, dándome un significado que sólo podía hablar de ella. Pasarán años y ella, perfecta, preciosa e intocable, como son las princesas que sólo existen en los cuentos, se quedará congelada en mi memoria, testigo muda de lo que no me atreví a hacer.

A veces es mejor quedarnos soñando con las estrellas que haberlas tocado. Y quizá haberlas roto.

La canción.

Sin ella.

TANGLED UP IN BLUE
________________________________________________


Early one mornin' the sun was shinin',
I was layin' in bed
Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all
If her hair was still red.
Her folks they said our lives together
Sure was gonna be rough
They never did like Mama's homemade dress
Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough.
And I was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on my shoes
Heading out for the East Coast
Lord knows I've paid some dues gettin' through,
Tangled up in blue.

She was married when we first met
Soon to be divorced
I helped her out of a jam, I guess,
But I used a little too much force.
We drove that car as far as we could
Abandoned it out West
Split up on a dark sad night
Both agreeing it was best.
She turned around to look at me
As I was walkin' away
I heard her say over my shoulder,
"We'll meet again someday on the avenue,"
Tangled up in blue.

I had a job in the great north woods
Working as a cook for a spell
But I never did like it all that much
And one day the ax just fell.
So I drifted down to New Orleans
Where I happened to be employed
Workin' for a while on a fishin' boat
Right outside of Delacroix.
But all the while I was alone
The past was close behind,
I seen a lot of women
But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew
Tangled up in blue.

She was workin' in a topless place
And I stopped in for a beer,
I just kept lookin' at the side of her face
In the spotlight so clear.
And later on as the crowd thinned out
I's just about to do the same,
She was standing there in back of my chair
Said to me, "Don't I know your name?"
I muttered somethin' underneath my breath,
She studied the lines on my face.
I must admit I felt a little uneasy
When she bent down to tie the laces of my shoe,
Tangled up in blue.

She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe
"I thought you'd never say hello," she said
"You look like the silent type."
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century.
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you,
Tangled up in blue.

I lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs,
There was music in the cafes at night
And revolution in the air.
Then he started into dealing with slaves
And something inside of him died.
She had to sell everything she owned
And froze up inside.
And when finally the bottom fell out
I became withdrawn,
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew,
Tangled up in blue.

So now I'm goin' back again,
I got to get to her somehow.
All the people we used to know
They're an illusion to me now.
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives.
Don't know how it all got started,
I don't know what they're doin' with their lives.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue.

7 comentarios:

Marina de Luna dijo...

Besos de gominola rosa de mandarina!

Anónimo dijo...

Los detalles precisos de lo que ha ocurrido estos 20 días son tuyos, al pasarles al papel perderían la esencia.

Permítanos imganinarlo a nosotros :-)

Zurraboinas

Doc Pastor dijo...

Si lo bueno de las cosas no es contarlas (aunque rodeado de amigas y buenas cervezas siempre) lo mejor es siempre vivirlo, mi querido hermano Janalí.

Y me pinto el pelo con rotulador dijo...

No hace falta que digas nada...
te brillan los ojitos...

Besines de limón!!!

Anónimo dijo...

Feliz quien parte atado al corazón
Pues, aunque no regrese nunca, siempre
Habitará su casa. Feliz quien viene y va
A antojo de su dicha y sus senderos,
En pos de sí y de sus misterios hondos,
De su amor, su quimera, de su nada.
Cuánto más si al susurro de su voz
Sujeto, atento sólo a su murmullo,
Se escucha y dice: heme: al mismo tiempo
Que presta tacto, vista, oído al mundo,
Y lo comprende o no, pero le incumbe,
Le inmuta, le conmueve, le anonada,
De pilar a pilar le zarandea el alma
Al vibrar de raíz y de consciencia.

Diego dijo...

Feliz ciclo nuevo

Anónimo dijo...

Buscando un sentimiento... te encontré, y comencé a leer, y no pude parar, y voló el tiempo contigo sin tú saberlo.
Me encantaría poder hablar contigo alguna vez. estherrigopascual@hotmail.com