...y escucho entre las voces sólo una

Bob Dylan Blues

Got the Bob Dylan blues
and the Bob Dylan shoes
and my clothes and my hair’s in a mess,
but you know I just couldn’t care less.

Goin’ to write me a song
'bout what’s right and what’s wrong,
'bout God and my God and all that,
quiet while I make like a cat.

'Cause I’m a poet,
don’t ya know it,
and the wind, you can blow it,
'cause I’m Mr. Dylan, the king,
and I’m free as a bird on the wing.

Roam from town to town,
guess I get people down,
but I don’t care too much about that
'cause my gut and my wallet are fat.

Make a whole lotta dough,
but I deserve it though.
I’ve got soul and a good heart of gold,
so I’ll sing about war in the cold.

Well I sing about dreams
and I rhymes it with seems
'cause it seems that my dream always means
that I can prophesy all kinds of things.

Well the guy that digs me
should try hard to see
that he buys all my discs and a hat
and when I’m in town go see that.

'Cause I'm a poet...

(SB)

*

The eagle picks my eye,
the worm he licks my bone,
I feel so suicidal
just like Dylan’s Mr. Jones.

(B)

*

Don't believe in Zimmerman

(JL)

*

You got to serve yourself,
ain't nobody gonna do for you.
You may believe in devils
and you may believe in laws
but if you don't go out and serve yourself,
lad, there ain't no room service here.

(JL)

*

I was a young man back in the 1960s.
Yes, you made your own amusements then,
for going to the pictures;
well, the travel was hard, and I mean
we still used the wheel,
but you could sit down at your table
and eat a real food meal.

But hey, you young people, well I just do not know,
and I can't even understand you
when you try to talk slow.

There was one fellow singing in those days,
and he was quite good, and I mean to say that.
His name was Bob Dylan, and I used to do gigs too
before I made my first million.
That was way, way back before,
before wild World War Three,
when England went missing,
and we moved to Paraguayee.

But hey, you young people, I just do not know,
and I can't even understand you
when you try to talk slow.

(ISB)

*

Oh, hear this, Robert Zimmerman,
I wrote a song for you
about a strange young man called Dylan
with a voice like sand and glue.
Some words of truthful vengeance,
they could pin us to the floor.
Brought a few more people on
and put the fear in a whole lot more.

(DB)

*

Enciendo la radio
y sale Bob Dylan cantando,
estoy desesperado
y mi mente comienza a girar.

(T)

*

Mr. Tamburino,
non ho voglia di scherzare.
Rimettiamoci la maglia,
i tempi stanno per cambiare.

C' chi si mette degli occhiali da sole
per avere pi carisma e sintomatico mistero...

(FB)

*

Que tiene que llover, tiene que llover,
tiene que llover,
que tiene que llover
a cántaros.

(PG)

*

And if we never meet again,
baby, remember me,
how my lone guitar played sweet for you
that old-time melody
and the harmonica around my neck,
I blew it for you, free.
No one else could play that tune,
You know it was up to me.

(BD)