Source text in English — View comments about this source text » | Translation by Zewa (#14644) |
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. | Nedeľné ráno prichádza A zobudil som sa v to nedeľné ráno Nevládny udržať bez bolesti hlavu. A pivo čo som mal na raňajky nechutilo zle, tak som si dal ešte jedno, ako zákusok. Kutajúc v šatníku som našiel to najčistejšie špinavé tričko. Umyl som si tvár a učesal vlasy a vypotácal sa dolu schodmi, v ústrety dňu čo ma čakal. Moja myseľ sa stratila vo včerajšom nočnom dyme, v cigaretách a piesňach ktoré som v nej našiel. A zapálil som si prvú a pozoroval hrajúce sa dieťa, ako si kope do plechovice. Prešiel som na druhú stranu cesty A ucítil som nedeľnú vôňu smaženého kuraťa. A to ma, Bože, vrátilo k niečomu, čo som stratil niekde, nejako, počas mojej cesty. V to ráno si na nedeľnom chodníku, želám len jedno, môj Pane, aby som bol ukameňovaný. Pretože len nedeľa má tú moc čo vrhne telo do samoty. A nieje prečo zomrieť, to je len z polovice tak osamelé ako zvuk spiaceho mesta na chodníku a nedeľné ráno prichádza. V parku som videl otca ako hojdá smejúcu sa dcéru. Zastavil som sa pri nedeľnej škole a počúval piesne čo v nej spievali. A potom som vykročil dole ulicou, a niekde ďaleko zvonil osamelý zvon a jeho ozvena sa niesla kaňonom, ako miznúce sny včerajšieho dňa. |