Source text in English — View comments about this source text » | Translation by Mandelik (#14494) — Winner |
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. | Odchádzajúce nedeľné ráno Nuž zobudil som sa v nedeľu ráno žiadna šanca, že udržím hlavu bez bolesti. A to pivo, ktoré som mal na raňajky, nebolo zlé, takže som si ako zákusok dal ešte jedno. Potom som sa prehrabával šatami v šatníku a našiel som svoje najčistejšie špinavé tričko. Opláchol som si tvár a učesal vlasy a potkýnajúc sa zišiel som dolu schodmi v ústrety novému dňu. Noc predtým som si vyúdil mozog, s cigaretami a piesňami, ktoré som si vyberal. Ale zapálil som si prvú a pozeral na malé dieťa ako kope do plechovky. Potom som prešiel ulicou a zachytil nedeľňajšiu vôňu kurčaťa, ktoré niekto vyprážal. A vrátilo ma to späť k niečomu, čo som stratil niekde, nejako po ceste. Na chodníku v nedeľu ráno, prajem si Pane byť ukameňovaným. Pretože na nedeli je niečo čo vyvoláva vo mne pocit samoty. A neexistuje nič tak mŕtve čo i len z polovice tak osamelé ako zvuk spiaceho mestského chodníka a odchádzajúceho sa nedeľného rána. V parku som videl otecka so smejúcim sa dievčatkom, ktoré hojdal. Zastavil som sa vedľa nedeľnej školy a počúval piesne, ktoré spievali. Potom som šiel dolu ulicou a niekde v diaľke znel osamelý zvon a ozvena sa niesla kaňonom ako miznúce sny včerajška. |