Play it again, Sam!

NN_8751_by_nothingeater

NN 8751 by nothingeater

Good morning, folks!

I know you miss me blind, don’t you? Unfortunately, a big deal of events made it impossible for me to take some time for myself, let alone posting on my blog! Today I’m doing a sort of experiment driven by my recent participation to the yearly Proz.com contest. I must confess I missed the goal, basically because I didn’t understand the request. In clearer words: this year’s translation contest is named ‘Poetry with a tune‘ – the reason? The task was translating some lyrics (Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down by Kris Kristofferson and Johnny Cash) but I ignored the song and I did not have a clear idea of how to tackle the whole thing, so I probably made the worst choice and translated the text ‘as is’, no attempt to make it true ‘poetry’ or to adapt it to the music, too much concerned about the accuracy of my translation to get what was probably the true goal of the contest … and to enjoy the fun behind it too! So I’m playing this game now, I’ve been away for such a long time now from my blog and after all my posts are often related to music, so … why not?

Here’s my first endeavour in the field of music, any comment’s heartily welcome!

Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down

Well, I woke up Sunday morning

With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.

And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,

So I had one more for dessert.

Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes

And found my cleanest dirty shirt.

Then I washed my face and combed my hair

And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I’d smoked my mind the night before

With cigarettes and songs I’d been picking.

But I lit my first and watched a small kid

Playing with a can that he was kicking.

Then I walked across the street

And caught the Sunday smell of someone’s frying chicken.

And Lord, it took me back to something that I’d lost

Somewhere, somehow along the way.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,

I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.

‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone.

And there’s nothing short a’ dying

That’s half as lonesome as the sound

Of the sleeping city sidewalk

And Sunday morning coming down.

In the park I saw a daddy

With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.

And I stopped beside a Sunday school

And listened to the songs they were singing.

Then I headed down the street,

And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,

And it echoed through the canyon

Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,

I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.

‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone.

And there’s nothing short a’ dying

That’s half as lonesome as the sound

Of the sleeping city sidewalk

And Sunday morning coming down.

Domenica mattina

È domenica mattina apro gli occhi

E la testa duole a stare su

E la birra a colazione non è male

Così mando un’altra giù

Ed afferro la camicia più pulita

tra i miei panni sparsi intorno

E lavo il viso e pettino i capelli

E barcollo incontro al giorno

E ho annebbiato la mia mente

Con canzoni e sigarette la sera prima

Ma ne fumo un’altra e guardo un bimbo

Mentre prende a calci una lattina

E cammino per le strade ed il profumo

di pollo appena cucinato

Mi riporta indietro ad un ricordo perso

chissà dove nel passato

Solo su quel marciapiede io

Di essere sbronzo ancora prego Iddio

Perché in questo giorno appena nato

Io mi sento solo e disperato

Ed ascolto i miei passi sul selciato

Della città che ancora dorme

E non c’è nulla che risuoni desolato

Più nel giorno che ormai sorge

E nel parco una bimba in altalena

Ride e il papà la spinge su

E mi fermo ad una chiesa ad ascoltare

i canti che vengono giù

E cammino per la strada

Di lontano una campana suona greve

E il rintocco suo pervade la contrada

E coi sogni sfuma lieve

Solo su quel marciapiede io

Di essere sbronzo ancora prego Iddio

Perché in questo giorno appena nato

Io mi sento solo e disperato

Ed ascolto i miei passi nel silenzio

Della città che ancora dorme

E non c’è nulla che risuoni desolato

Più nel giorno che ormai sorge

See you – hopefully – soon, folks!

Your passionate (Italian) Translator

P.S.: Don’t worry, no intention to become a songwriter!

01.27.2014

IMPORTANT NOTICE: Those of you who visited this post in the last few days might perceive some differences in the current Italian text: you are not wrong, the translation is truly different! Why? I must confess my mistake:  at first I translated the song singing it ‘by heart’ but my memory failed blatantly, so I inadvertently messed up verses and pacing. What a shame! So I took the translation up again and made some major changes to adapt the verses to the rhythm, this time singing it on real music to test the result adequately. This time the pace wasn’t bad (to use an expression in the song) … or at least not completely wrong, so I used the new translation to replace the former lyrics. Please forgive me, I’m a newcomer in this field and I promise I’ll avoid any further attempt!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s