The Ghost Of Tom Joad
Bruce SpringsteenOriginal | Irish transcreation by Gabriel Rosenstock |
THE GHOST OF TOM JOAD Men walkin' 'long the railroad tracks Goin' some place, there's no goin' back Highway Patrol choppers comin' up over the ridge Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge Shelter line stretchin' round the corner Welcome to the new world order Families sleepin' in their cars in the southwest No home, no Job, no peace, no rest The highway is alive tonight But nobody's kiddin' nobody about where it goes I'm sitting down here in the campfire light Searchin' for the ghost of Tom Joad He pulls prayer book out of his sleepin' bag Preacher lights up a butt and takes a drag Waitin' for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last In a cardboard box 'neath the underpass Got a one way ticket to the promised land You got a hole in your belly and a gun in your hand sleeping on a pillow of solid rock Bathing in the city aqueduct The highway is alive tonight Where it's headed everybody knows I'm sittin' down here in the campfire light Waitin' on the ghost of Tom Joad Now Tom Said; "Mom, wherever there's a cop beatin' a guy Wherever a hungry new born baby cries Where there's a fight 'gainst the blood and hatred in the air Look for me mom I'll be there Wherever there's somebody fightin' for a place to stand Or decent job or a helpin' hand Wherever somebody's strugglin' to be free Look in their eyes mom you'll see me." Well the highway is alive tonight But nobody's kiddin' nobody about where it goes I'm sitting down here in the campfire light Searchin' for the ghost of Tom Joad | THAIBHSE TOM JOAD Ar na ráillí tá na fir ag siúl Dul áit éigin is níl dul ar gcúl Tá na héileacaptair an mullach chugainn aniar Súp te sa champa faoin droichead á riar. Scuaine na mbochtán thar an gcoirnéal Fáilte, tá ord nua i réim Teaghlaigh san iardheisceart ina gcairt ina luí Níl áit ná jab acu ná scíth. Bhuel is beo don bhealach mór san oích’ Ach níl éinne ag cur dallamullóg ar éinne ar ndóigh Táimse anseo cois na tine im’ shuí Mé sa tóir ar thaibhse Tom Joad As a mhála codlata an leabhar urnaí Lasann Preacher is ólann sé a bhun toitín Fanacht cé bheidh chun tosaigh, cé bheidh chun deiridh, mo léir Insan íosbhealach, bosca cairtpháipéir Go dtí an tír tairngire ticéad aon treo Tá gunnán i do ghlac is tá do bholg i mbun gleo Ar philiúr cloch sea ligeann tú do scíth Agus tú ag snámh san uiscerian. Is is beo don bhealach mór san oích’ Cá bhfuil a thriall, is eol dúinn a threo Táimse anseo cois na tine im’ shuí Mé sa tóir ar thaibhse Tom Joad Deir Tom, ‘’Mhaim, má tá duine á bhualadh ag póilín Má tá leanbh nuabheirthe ag lorg bia Má tá troid ann in aghaidh an phóir agus fuath san aer Cuardaigh, a Mhaim, agus féach Má tá duine ag troid ar son a phaiste féin Nó ag súil le jab áit éigin faoin ngréin Má tá duine ag streachailt chun a bheith saor Féach air, a Mhaim, feicfidh tú mé.’ Bhuel is beo don bhealach mór san oích’ Ach níl éinne ag cur dallamullóg ar éinne ar ndóigh Táimse anseo cois na tine im’ shuí Mé sa tóir ar thaibhse Tom Joad |