Source text in English — View comments about this source text » | Translation #14918 |
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. | Spuštanje nedjeljom ujutro Eto, probudim se u nedjeljno jutro S glavoboljom u svakom položaju. Pivo koje sam doručkovao nije bilo loše, Pa popijem još jedno za desert. Nakon toga pretresem odjeću u ormaru I pronađem najčišću prljavu košulju. Umijem lice i počešljam kosu Te se sručim niz stepenice ususret danu. Noć prije mozak sam prepušio Cigaretama i pjesmama koje birah. Ipak, zapalim prvu i gledam dijete Kako se zabavlja udaranjem limenke. Zatim prelazim cestu I uhvatim nedjeljni miris nečijeg pečenog pileta. Bože, to me vrati na nešto što izgubih Negdje, nekako, usput. Na pločniku nedjeljnog jutra, Priželjkujem, Bože, da sam potpuno pijan. Jer, ima nešto u nedjelji Zbog čega se tijelo osjeća usamljeno. I ne postoji ništa osim umiranja Što je upola samotno kao zvuk Uspavanog gradskog pločnika I spuštanja u nedjeljno jutro. U parku vidim tatu S nasmijanom djevojčicom koju ljulja. I zaustavim se pokraj škole vjeronauka I slušam pjesme koje pjevaju. Zatim se uputim niz ulicu, A negdje daleko usamljeno zvono zvoni, I odjekuje kroz kanjon Kao iščezli snovi jučerašnjeg dana. |