Weep loud for that
And the passing time
~ Jaques Brel ‘My Death’ 1959
And the passing time
~ Jaques Brel ‘My Death’ 1959
 |
| Fernando Gómez Balbontín |
“The breeze coming up the coast laced the street-lit suburban air with refinery crude. As they crossed through the long grass in the vacant land at the top of the rise they could see the lights of Durban across the harbour”
Quoting from some old book of Joe’s as if the words would now hold some greater meaning; as if they would belong to the memory of the man; his ghost.
They’ve buried his body behind the warehouse in what passes as a cemetery, buried along with the old man, the stillborn babies and the old ones who didn’t last the months following the settling of the clave. All these resting places marked by small arrangements of misshaped stones around a fabbed plate bearing only the name of the passed, less than a handful all in.
Delores and Gemma are in tatters, there is no artifice here to adhere to, their grief is real; they loved him to the extent of worship. They hold themselves in while Daniel continues:
“The city where life had meaning; beyond these suburbs where creativity came to die”
“enough” Daniel thumps the book down on the kitchen table as if it were a brick; the foundation stone of all that is wrong with the clave.
“I can’t believe we didn’t see this coming, those three must’ve said something”
“Maybe they didn’t plan it Daniel”
“They planned it, or at least one of them orchestrated this”
“But I’m sure they didn’t mean to kill him”
“Well they did kill him and I wish I knew what Marty’s doing going with them”
“How do we know he’s with them?”
“Has anyone seen him? He must’ve gone with them”
“What are you gonna do Daniel?”
“What are we gonna do…I dunno,” Daniel’s focus lengthens out to behind the heads of the gathered, behind the mishmash walls of the commons, “but they’ve taken the tractor, and that is our last line of defence, our emergency generator”
Quoting from some old book of Joe’s as if the words would now hold some greater meaning; as if they would belong to the memory of the man; his ghost.
They’ve buried his body behind the warehouse in what passes as a cemetery, buried along with the old man, the stillborn babies and the old ones who didn’t last the months following the settling of the clave. All these resting places marked by small arrangements of misshaped stones around a fabbed plate bearing only the name of the passed, less than a handful all in.
Delores and Gemma are in tatters, there is no artifice here to adhere to, their grief is real; they loved him to the extent of worship. They hold themselves in while Daniel continues:
“The city where life had meaning; beyond these suburbs where creativity came to die”
“enough” Daniel thumps the book down on the kitchen table as if it were a brick; the foundation stone of all that is wrong with the clave.
“I can’t believe we didn’t see this coming, those three must’ve said something”
“Maybe they didn’t plan it Daniel”
“They planned it, or at least one of them orchestrated this”
“But I’m sure they didn’t mean to kill him”
“Well they did kill him and I wish I knew what Marty’s doing going with them”
“How do we know he’s with them?”
“Has anyone seen him? He must’ve gone with them”
“What are you gonna do Daniel?”
“What are we gonna do…I dunno,” Daniel’s focus lengthens out to behind the heads of the gathered, behind the mishmash walls of the commons, “but they’ve taken the tractor, and that is our last line of defence, our emergency generator”
| Bowie | ||
| My Death | ||
1 comment:
“My Death”, originally titled “La Mort”, is one of Jacques Brel’s most covered songs. Most notable are the covers by Scott Walker and David Bowie, although the translation they used in their interpretations differs greatly from the original piece.
After reading an alternate translation, the one from which the above comment comes, I believe the translation used by Bowie and Walker is far more profound.
You may judge for yourselves here. https://collectingbrel.com/2017/04/11/my-death-by-jacques-brel-english-translation/
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