Langue   

The Miner's Lullaby

Utah Phillips
Langue: anglais


Utah Phillips

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[1973]
Parole e musica di Bruce 'Utah' Phillips.
Nel quadruplo disco compilativo intitolato “Starlight On The Rails: A Songbook” pubblicato nel 2005.

Starlight On The Rails: A Songbook

Lavorando per la società storica di Salt Lake City, ad Utah Phillips capitò di fare un sopraluogo in un villaggio di minatori abbondonato all’inizio del 900. Quasi tutto era rimasto fermo ad allora, intatto. In una drogheria, fra le mercanzie e gli oggetti ancora allineati sugli scaffali, Utah Phillips trovò alcune piccole scatole di metallo ermetiche da portarsi alla cintura. Scoprì che si trattava di contenitori per fiale di morfina che i minatori si portavano in galleria per potersi suicidare nel caso fossero rimasti intrappolati in galleria in seguito a frane, esplosioni ed incidenti. Una pratica consueta, di cui però non si poteva parlare, essendo molte famiglie cattoliche, religione che condanna come peccato imperdonabile alzare la mano su sé stessi…
Once, long ago, he was handsome and tall
And fit to be called to the war
We left our village, family and all
To never return any more

Now he takes his coat, his bucket and lamp
And whistles away to the cage
Where men young and old from all over the camp
Gather in search of a wage

Husband, sleep, lay your head back and dream
A slow fallen leaf borne down to the stream
Then carried away on the wings of morphine
Homeward far over the sea

My husband and I are Roman in faith
And we have a secret to keep
If ever his life is taken away
Then gentle and long will he sleep

Now some men pass with family around
And linens and blankets so clean
But seldom a miner goes underground
Without his tin of morphine

Husband, sleep, lay your head back and dream
A slow fallen leaf borne down to the stream
Then carried away on the wings of morphine
Homeward far over the sea

And now here's a word, an explosion is heard
The miners are trapped far below
If any survived down there alive
I'm certain we never will know

Although our families have vainly appealed
No rescue attempt can be seen
Our hope for loved ones in the dark earth sealed
Now lies in a tin of morphine

Husband, sleep, lay your head back and dream
A slow fallen leaf borne down to the stream
Then carried away on the wings of morphine
Homeward far over the sea

envoyé par Bernart Bartleby - 27/5/2014 - 17:10




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