MEMÓRIAS SONORAS - XXII - "A HARD RAIN' S A-GONNA FALL"

A memória é uma espécie de computador onde se podem pesquisar factos históricos que justificam o nascimento de composições musicais que se tornaram em bandeiras ou em manifestações de oposição a erros políticos que inúmeras vezes se transformam em riscos para a Humanidade.
Estão, neste caso, os acontecimentos ocorridos entre 1961 e 1963, entre os EUA e a União Soviética, que graças à ingenuidade e imaturidade política do Presidente Kennedy dos EUA, provocaram o desastre da Baía dos Porcos. Sucederam-se a tentativa de envenenamento de Fidel de Castro, o bloqueio naval e, sobretudo, a crise dos mísseis, todos eles ligados a Cuba e que estiveram na origem de uma quase catástrofe nuclear. As oposições musicais que surgiram, especialmente, entre os Folk Singers estado-unidenses, contribuiram para o aumento da popularidade de Bob Dylan que já havia conquistado grande notoriedade com o tema “Blowing In The Wind” que não é a minha memória sonora. Esta refere-se a outra composição que Bob Dylan considerou como uma espécie de epitáfio musical, tal era a convicção do desespero que reinava nesse tempo. A composição chama-se “A Hard Rain´S Gonna Fall”. Seguindo o próprio pensamento de Dylan, o verso chave da canção é “The Pellets Of Poison Are Flooding Us All”. A canção foi escrita no final de 1962 e, incluída, no álbum “Freewheelin”, de 1963.
Como é habitual apresento a seguir o acesso ao You Tube e a letra da composição:

vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=31363243

A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Bob Dylan
Copyright ©1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Jorge Brasil Mesquita
Jorge Manuel Brasil Mesquita
Recriado e corrigido, em 10 de Julho de 2012, directamente, no blogue, na Biblioteca Nacional, entre as 14H55 e as 15H03 do dia 10 de Julho de 2012.