donde solía haber una calle

Al grande de Leonardo le publicaron en The New Yorker primero la letra como poema -año 2009-. El tema musical llegó en 2014. Hace ya mucho que expuse en este y en el anterior cuaderno esta forma de ver la literatura.
Que Leonardo es grande no lo digo yo; lo dice su supuración. Qué forma de segregar enormidad la suya.  
Llegué a este tema en medio de la naturaleza, el esfuerzo y la belleza, entre pedalada y pedalada, descubriendo tesoros que me llegaron como regalos en su día. Y entre la luz de los pinos, los robles y los helecho escuchaba the party's over...

Primero el poema y luego la letra:

I used to be your favorite drunk
Good for one more laugh
Then we both ran out of luck
And luck was all we had
You put on a uniform
To fight the Civil War
I tried to join but no one liked
The side I’m fighting for
So let’s drink to when it’s over
And let’s drink to when we meet
I’ll be standing on this corner
Where there used to be a street 
You left me with the dishes
And a baby in the bath
And you’re tight with the militias
You wear their camouflage
I guess that makes us equal
But I want to march with you
An extra in the sequel
To the old red-white-and-blue
So let’s drink to when it’s over
And let’s drink to when we meet
I’ll be standing on this corner
Where there used to be a street 
I cried for you this morning
And I’ll cry for you again
But I’m not in charge of sorrow
So please don’t ask me when
I know the burden’s heavy
As you bear it through the night
Some people say it’s empty
But that doesn’t mean it’s light
So let’s drink to when it’s over
And let’s drink to when we meet
I’ll be standing on this corner
Where there used to be a street 
It’s going to be September now
For many years to come
Every heart adjusting
To that strict September drum
I see the Ghost of Culture
With numbers on his wrist
Salute some new conclusion
Which all of us have missed
So let’s drink to when it’s over
And let’s drink to when we meet
I’ll be standing on this corner
Where there used to be a street

I used to be your favorite drunk
Good for one more laugh
Then we both ran out of luck
Luck was all we ever had
You put on a uniform
To fight the Civil War
You looked so good I didn’t care
What side you’re fighting for

It wasn’t all that easy
When you up and walked away
But I’ll save that little story
For another rainy day
I know the burden’s heavy
As you wheel it through the night
Some people say it’s empty
But that don’t mean it’s light

You left me with the dishes
And a baby in the bath
You’re tight with the militias
You wear their camouflage
You always said we’re equal
So let me march with you
Just an extra in the sequel
To the old red white and blue

Baby don’t ignore me
We were smokers we were friends
Forget that tired story
Of betrayal and revenge
I see the Ghost of Culture
With numbers on his wrist
Salute some new conclusion
Which all of us have missed

I cried for you this morning
And I’ll cry for you again
But I’m not in charge of sorrow
So please don’t ask me when
There may be wine and roses
And magnums of champagne
But we’ll never no we’ll never
Ever be that drunk again

The party’s over
But I’ve landed on my feet
I’ll be standing on this corner
Where there used to be a street

Respecto a su significado, aquí habla el pájaro. Pero da igual lo que explique. Da igual. El poema es superlativo. Y la canción. Qué hihoputa -en granaíno-.

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