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Spring Song

Paul Robeson
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Paul Robeson

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[1941]
Versi di Harry Schachter
Musica di Earl Robinson
Trovo il brano in un paio di compilation, quella proveniente dalla DDR intitolata “Das Andere Amerika” (1966) e la più recente “Songs For Political Action - Folk Music And The American Left 1926 – 1953” (sempre tedesca ma del 1996)

Spring Song
Das Andere Amerika


Sicuramente una delle canzoni contro la guerra e pacifiste più sfigate della Storia.



Paul Robeson la incise nel maggio del 1941… Il 22 giugno Hitler invase l’Unione Sovietica… Il 7 luglio un contingente americano sbarcava in Islanda a sostegno delle truppe britanniche, primo assaggio del coinvolgimento degli Stati Uniti nel conflitto, formalizzato poi a dicembre dopo l’attacco giapponese a Pearl Harbor…

La “Canzone della Primavera” la cantarono veramente in pochi e per poco…
Oh, I wonder will we be at war this spring.
Will we be fighting while the robins sing?
Will bayonets be a-bristling, and bullets do the whistling,
While the world is all in bloom in the spring?
Can it be that we’ll be drilling when it’s spring?
Can it be that we’ll be killing when it’s spring?
Oh, I’d rather take it easy, give that enemy a breezy,
A bright and cheery howdy in the spring.

Oh, is that a time for dying when it’s spring?
And the women to be crying when it’s spring?
When gardenias are a-selling, is that a time for shelling,
When the lilacs are in bloom in the spring?
Oh, I hope it won’t arrive in the spring,
For it’s great to be alive in the spring!
Oh, I hope it won’t arrive, when it’s great to be alive,
For it’s great to be alive in the spring!

Oh, I would like to know in the spring
That I won’t have to go in the spring.
When in the park on Sunday, I would like to know that Monday
Will be just another day in the spring!
Can I tell her that I love her in the spring,
When the skies are blue above her in the spring?
Though the skies are blue above her, can I tell her that I love her,
If we never meet each other in the spring?

Oh, in Flanders Field, there is a pretty spring.
In Flanders Field, the larks still bravely sing.
And row on endless row, the poppies bloom and grow,
But the richness lies below in the spring.
Oh, I’d just like an ordinary spring,
With people laughing just because it’s spring.
And however he spells his name, I’m sure he feels the same,
For it’s great to be alive in the spring.

inviata da Bernart Bartleby - 9/2/2016 - 11:37




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