Man Of Iron

Sandy Denny

Lingua: Inglese

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Credo che la si possa trovare solo su "A Boxful Of Treasures", un cofanetto di 5 cd pubblicato nel 2004; è tutto bello, ma questa canzone è qualcosa di straordinario! [Renato Stecca]

Where are you riding to, sir Knight
Alone and armed for war?
If not to fight for right, sir Knight
Then what are weapons for?

Why do you hide your face, sir Knight
Within a face of iron?
The more you shield your eyes from light
The more you’ll make them blind.

Turn your horse for home, sir Knight
Your hawk and hounds are waiting.
Your lady does not sleep at night
She fears the hand of fate tonight.

Turn your face towards the sun
And listen to the minutes run
Oh can't you feel the warning breeze
And hear the whisper in the trees?

Look behind you, man of iron
And your children call and do
Not find you and a wall of silent
Laughter scornes the chorus of their cries.

Was this the end you chose, sir Knight
Was this why you were born so bright?
The wolves will chew your bones tonight
It is your brother's hand you hold so tight.

Your brother's blood, your brother's life,
Your brother's love, your brother's knife

inviata da Renato Stecca - 10/4/2007 - 17:33

Lingua: Italiano

Versione italiana di Riccardo Venturi
10 aprile 2007

Dove state cavalcando, messer Cavaliere,
da solo e armato per la guerra?
Se non servono a lottare per il giusto, messer Cavaliere,
allora, a che cosa servon le armi?

Perché vi celate la faccia, messer Cavaliere,
dentro ad un volto di ferro?
Tanto più vi riparate gli occhi dalla luce,
quanto più li renderete ciechi.

Voltate il cavallo e tornate a casa, messer Cavaliere,
i vostri falconi ed i cani stanno aspettando.
La vostra sposa non dorme la notte,
ella teme, stanotte, la mano del destino.

Voltate la faccia verso il sole
e ascoltate i minuti che scorrono,
oh, non sentite il vento che vi dice attenzione,
non udite il sussurro tra gli alberi?

Guardatevi dietro, uomo di ferro,
ché i vostri figli chiamano,
non vi trovano ed un muro di silenti
risate dileggia il coro dei loro pianti.

Era questa la fine che avete scelto, messer Cavaliere,
era questo ciò per cui avete avuto sì splendenti natali?
I lupi, stanotte, masticheranno le vostre ossa,
è la mano del vostro fratello quella che stringete forte.

Del vostro fratello il sangue, del vostro fratello la vita,
del vostro fratello l'amore, del vostro fratello il pugnale.

10/4/2007 - 19:57

"Man of Iron", scritta da Don Fraser, fu interpretata da Sandy Denny appositamente per la colonna sonora del film "Pass of Arms" del 1972, diretto da Peter Elford.
In quella soundtrack anche "Here in Silence" - ancora Sandy Denny - e questa poesia del 1917 scritta da Wilfred Owen e recitata da Christopher Logue:


It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.

Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, -
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.

With a thousand pains that vision's face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
“Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.”
“None,” said that other, “save the undone years,

The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled,
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.

I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now…”

Bartleby - 20/4/2011 - 07:43

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