Sunday, November 25, 2012


El hombre que piensa a menudo que es mejor estar en otro sitio que donde está se excomulga de sí mismo


Diario 20 de Noviembre de 1857

The man who is often thinking that it is better to somewhere else than where he is excommunicates himself.


11 de Noviembre de 2012

En el tren desde San Sebastián hasta Irún para la 48 B/SS.Es tu 17 edición consecutiva.El tren está tan lleno de corredores que casi no se puede respirar y aunque lo rechazas piensas en los trenes de la muerte.No pudiste ver los huertos al lado de la vía del tren en Ventas de Irún, ni tampoco oir música.Tampoco piensas.Solo quieres llegar cuanto antes y cuando llegues solo querrás salir cuanto antes.A la llegada una lluvia intensa que casi no parará y que te obliga  a estar refugiado y quieto durante más de una hora antes de la salida.No piensas que fuera mejor estar en otro sitio.Quieres estar aquí, aunque no sabes por qué.Concentras la mirada en el color otoñal de los árboles.Solo cuando empiezas a correr desaparece, casi del todo, la prisa.Agradecerías que lloviera un poco menos, pero no rechazas la lluvia.Terminas en 1 hora 41 minutos y 36 segundos.Un caldo te devuelve el calor perdido.

Música no escuchada: "I pay in blood but not my own":

Night after night, Day after day
They strip your useless hopes away
The more I take the more I give
The more I die the more I live
I got something in my pocket make your eyeballs swim
I got dogs could tear you limb from limb
I'm circlin' around the Southern Zone
I pay in blood, but not my own.

Low cards are what I've got
But I'll play this hand whether I like it or not
I'm sworn to uphold the laws of God
You could put me out in front of a firing squad
I've been out and around with the rising men
Just like you my handsome friend
My head's so hard, must be made of stone
I pay in blood, but not my own

Another politician coming out the abyss
Another angry beggar blowing you a kiss
You got the same eyes that your mother does
If only you could prove who your father was
Someone must of slipped a drug in yer wine
You gulped it down and you cross the line
Man can't live by bread alone
I pay in blood, but not my own

How I made it back home, nobody knows
Or how I survived so many blows
I've been thru Hell, What good did it do?
You bastard! I'm suppose to respect you!
I'll give you justice, I'll fathom your purse
Show me your moral that you reversed

Hear me holler and hear me moan
I pay in blood but not my own
You get your lover in the bed
Come here I'll break your lousy head
Our nation must be saved and freed
You've been accused of murder, how do you plead?
This is how I spend my days
I came to bury, not to raise
I'll drink my fill and sleep alone
I play in blood, but not my own

Bob Dylan

I’ve read a lot about how people interpret this song on different web sites, it’s very fascinating. The Point of view can be several types of men, and I am not gonna list everyone here, but these are the ones I find most believable:
Bob Dylan himself
A Soldier comming home from war
A hitman/assassin kind of guy
The Crucifixion of Jesús

There are definitely biblical references in the song and the title Pay in Blood has to be a refernce to blood offerings in the Jewish religion or the importance of The Blood of Christ in Christianity, but my take on the song is that it is about what Bob Dylan recently told Rolling Stone, that USA was built on “the back of slaves” they (USA) paid in blood but not thir own.

No comments: