♫
~
They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row
Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning
"You Belong to Me I Believe"
And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend
You better leave"
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row
Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortunetelling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row
Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row
Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row
Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They're trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She's in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
"Have Mercy on His Soul"
They all play on penny whistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row
Across the street they've nailed the curtains
They're getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
A perfect image of a priest
They're spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words
And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls
"Get Outa Here If You Don't Know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row"
Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row
Praise be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting
"Which Side Are You On?"
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row
Yes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row
~
~
They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row
Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning
"You Belong to Me I Believe"
And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend
You better leave"
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row
Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortunetelling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row
Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row
Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row
Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They're trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She's in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
"Have Mercy on His Soul"
They all play on penny whistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row
Across the street they've nailed the curtains
They're getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
A perfect image of a priest
They're spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words
And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls
"Get Outa Here If You Don't Know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row"
Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row
Praise be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting
"Which Side Are You On?"
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row
Yes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row
~
Un lugar extraño lleno de personajes extraños. De parias. De enfermos. De rebeldes. De perdedores. De perdidos. Los hay que no parecen estar a disgusto. Los hay que no encajan en otro lugar. Los hay que se lo pasan en grande. Los hay que se limitan a observar el caos reinante.
A pesar de todo, un lugar bastante familiar, ¿no es así?
Nadie sabe a qué se refería exactamente. El pianista que grabó con él Highway 61 Revisited dijo que hablaba de la octava avenida de Nueva York, ciudad en la que grabó el álbum. En aquella época la octava era un lugar bastante peligroso de la ciudad.
Otros dicen que se inspiró en ciertas obras de autores que admiraba, como The Waste Land de T.S. Eliot. Se sabe que Ezra Pound, también mencionado en la canción, ayudó a T.S. Eliot a publicar el poema, sugiriendo cambios y retocándolo en varias ocasiones.
También puede que hablara en todo momento de Duluth, su pueblo natal, el cual se encuentra al final de la autopista 61. En esa localidad, el 15 de junio de 1920, una muchedumbre enfurecida linchó y ahorcó a tres jóvenes. Se encontraban de paso en el pueblo con un circo ambulante y fueron acusados de forma poco fundada de haber violado a una chica del lugar. El comisario de policía ordenó a sus hombres que no utilizaran sus armas para defender a los jóvenes que habían sido arrancados violentamente de sus celdas por la multitud. Tal y como Dylan cuenta en la canción, realmente hicieron una postal con una imagen del linchamiento.
Puede que se refiriese un poco a todos esos lugares.
Puede que a ninguno.
Yo por lo pronto me voy allí de vacaciones una temporada. Ya os enviaré alguna carta.
A pesar de todo, un lugar bastante familiar, ¿no es así?
Nadie sabe a qué se refería exactamente. El pianista que grabó con él Highway 61 Revisited dijo que hablaba de la octava avenida de Nueva York, ciudad en la que grabó el álbum. En aquella época la octava era un lugar bastante peligroso de la ciudad.
Otros dicen que se inspiró en ciertas obras de autores que admiraba, como The Waste Land de T.S. Eliot. Se sabe que Ezra Pound, también mencionado en la canción, ayudó a T.S. Eliot a publicar el poema, sugiriendo cambios y retocándolo en varias ocasiones.
También puede que hablara en todo momento de Duluth, su pueblo natal, el cual se encuentra al final de la autopista 61. En esa localidad, el 15 de junio de 1920, una muchedumbre enfurecida linchó y ahorcó a tres jóvenes. Se encontraban de paso en el pueblo con un circo ambulante y fueron acusados de forma poco fundada de haber violado a una chica del lugar. El comisario de policía ordenó a sus hombres que no utilizaran sus armas para defender a los jóvenes que habían sido arrancados violentamente de sus celdas por la multitud. Tal y como Dylan cuenta en la canción, realmente hicieron una postal con una imagen del linchamiento.
Puede que se refiriese un poco a todos esos lugares.
Puede que a ninguno.
Yo por lo pronto me voy allí de vacaciones una temporada. Ya os enviaré alguna carta.
3 comentarios:
Es un auténtico cartel de la octava avenida (:
¡Pues felicidades!
¡A mí no me hables así!
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