Credo che questa canzone è la migliore che ho scrito, e credo che è impossibile odiarla in dispetto di tutte le obssessione che posso avere nella mia vita. Una altra questione, scusi ma il titolo della canzone di Amín Dadá era "Forgive"; scusi anche per il mio italiano per che l'ho dimenticato molto, nonostante mi dispiace molto non ricordare bene questa bella lingua.
A drownded man among this white tide
Everything seems like the rules of a rustic hell
All his hard work is too merciless
He's a tired man with no relief of rest
And his life is in the middle of the warm ancient sun.
Suddenly, he hears the news about Evars' murder
His master is listening to the news on his radio
The slavesman who was always called the boy
continues working in spite of his age
And his real name is a damned soul without Love.
But a drownded soul who is among the white tide
Thinks about the man who wished a change
A beautiful change in the middle of Hate
A deep change which would achieve fairness
To be able to smile with the relief of peace
To be able to dream on the relief of peace.
But this good man has already died
But this great man has already disappeared
And the master of the fields is now too wealthy
With all those cotton ruins along the Mississippi...
There were some tears around the fields
Through all the cotton punishments
And They were full of suffer and despair...
Once, there was a field with a source of sorrow
Men they were crying for their cotton slavery
At the same time, the master was in rage
And he laughed of Blacks' loneliness
From the middle of golden fields and powerful sun
And Medgar Evars' death was only bad news
Because the real pain was a hard slavery.
So,There were some tears around the fields
So,There were some tears around the fields
So,There many deaths in their sad slavery.
In the long end the breeze brushed the flowers
There was no peace in the bloody cotton suffers
There were many bloody black arms working
There were many tired black souls dying
Through all the cold of the hazy winters
In the middle of the air,in the middle of the light
With all the empty fog and with all the cruel rains
With all the sleet and snow and the stormy weather.
There were men in eternal sorrow who finally died
We can find out someday the fields with white tide
But there is no man working inside the white tide.
There is only an old fat man who is called the master
And he's laughing of the joy from his ancient past.
And Now, that's all, that's all,
All around the big white fields...
However there was a black men called the boy
Who was old and fell down to come back
Into a far world which was called
The promise land, The old promise land.
There were some tears around the fields
Through all the cotton punishments
Which were full of suffer and despair
Once, there was a field where sorrow grew
Men they were crying for their cotton slavery
From the middle of golden fields and powerful sun
And Medgar Evars' death was only bad news
Because the real pain was a hard slavery
So,There were some tears around the fields
So,There were some tears around the fields
I found most of them, across all the moss
In all the old cotton around the white fields
So,There were many sad tears around the vast hills
So,There were many sad tears around the big fields
So,There many deaths in their sad slavery.
So,There many deaths in their sad slavery...
And our unknown past is well whipped
By the fear against the old black skin.
Everything seems like the rules of a rustic hell
All his hard work is too merciless
He's a tired man with no relief of rest
And his life is in the middle of the warm ancient sun.
Suddenly, he hears the news about Evars' murder
His master is listening to the news on his radio
The slavesman who was always called the boy
continues working in spite of his age
And his real name is a damned soul without Love.
But a drownded soul who is among the white tide
Thinks about the man who wished a change
A beautiful change in the middle of Hate
A deep change which would achieve fairness
To be able to smile with the relief of peace
To be able to dream on the relief of peace.
But this good man has already died
But this great man has already disappeared
And the master of the fields is now too wealthy
With all those cotton ruins along the Mississippi...
There were some tears around the fields
Through all the cotton punishments
And They were full of suffer and despair...
Once, there was a field with a source of sorrow
Men they were crying for their cotton slavery
At the same time, the master was in rage
And he laughed of Blacks' loneliness
From the middle of golden fields and powerful sun
And Medgar Evars' death was only bad news
Because the real pain was a hard slavery.
So,There were some tears around the fields
So,There were some tears around the fields
So,There many deaths in their sad slavery.
In the long end the breeze brushed the flowers
There was no peace in the bloody cotton suffers
There were many bloody black arms working
There were many tired black souls dying
Through all the cold of the hazy winters
In the middle of the air,in the middle of the light
With all the empty fog and with all the cruel rains
With all the sleet and snow and the stormy weather.
There were men in eternal sorrow who finally died
We can find out someday the fields with white tide
But there is no man working inside the white tide.
There is only an old fat man who is called the master
And he's laughing of the joy from his ancient past.
And Now, that's all, that's all,
All around the big white fields...
However there was a black men called the boy
Who was old and fell down to come back
Into a far world which was called
The promise land, The old promise land.
There were some tears around the fields
Through all the cotton punishments
Which were full of suffer and despair
Once, there was a field where sorrow grew
Men they were crying for their cotton slavery
From the middle of golden fields and powerful sun
And Medgar Evars' death was only bad news
Because the real pain was a hard slavery
So,There were some tears around the fields
So,There were some tears around the fields
I found most of them, across all the moss
In all the old cotton around the white fields
So,There were many sad tears around the vast hills
So,There were many sad tears around the big fields
So,There many deaths in their sad slavery.
So,There many deaths in their sad slavery...
And our unknown past is well whipped
By the fear against the old black skin.
envoyé par C.Viadel - 21/12/2007 - 14:12
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