11 de mar de 2012

that evening sun

File:St. Louis Blues cover.jpg

o conto "that evening sun" (variante: "that evening sun go down"), de faulkner, recebeu três traduções no brasil:
  • "desceu o sol", de j. da cunha borges (vecchi, 1945)
  • "cai o sol da tarde", de adriano scandolara (arte e letra, 2009)
  • "aquele sol noturno", de sueli cavendish (eutomia, 2011)
o título era inspirado num blues de william christopher handy, de c. 1914, cuja letra é a seguinte:

I hate to see that evening sun go down.
I hate to see the evening sun go down.
'Cause, my baby, he done left this town.

Feelin' tomorrow like I feel today.
Feelin' tomorrow like I feel today.
I'll pack my truck and make ma get away.

St. Louis woman with her diamond ring, pulls that man roun' by her apron strings.
'Twant for powder an' for store bought hair.
That man I love would have gone nowhere, nowhere.

Chorus:
I got the St. Louis Blues, yes, as blue as I can be.
That man's got a heart like a rock cast in the sea
Or else he wouldn't have gone so far from me.
I love my baby like a schoolboy loves his pie
Like a Kentucky colonel loves his mint'n rye
I love my man till the day I die.

Been to the Gypsy to get ma fortune tole
To de Gypsy done got ma fortune tole.
Cause I'm mostwile 'bout ma Jelly Roll.

Gypsy done tole me, 'don't aou wear no black'
Yes she done tole me don't you wear no black. 
Go to St. Louis you can win him back. 

Help me to Cairo make St. Louis by maself git to Cairo find ma ole friend Jeff,
Gwine to pin ma self close to his side.
If ah flag his train I sho' can ride. 

Chorus:
A black headed gal make a freight train jump the track
Said a black headed gal make a freight train jump the track.
But a long tall gal makes a preacher ball the Jack.
Lawd, a blonde headed woman makes a good man leave the town
I said blonde headed woman makes a good man leave the town.
But a red headed woman makes a boy slap his papa down. 

You ought to see dat stovepipe brown of mine
Lak he owns de Dimon Joseph line.
He'd make a crosseyed o' man go stone blind.

Blacker than midnight, teeth lak flags of truce
Blackest man in de whole St. Louis.
Blacker de berry sweeter is the juice.

About a crap game he knows a pow'ful lot but when worktime comes he's on de dot gwine to ask him for a cold ten spot.
What it takes to git it he's certhly got.

Chorus:
Oh ashes to ashes and dust to dust
I said ashes to ashes and dust to dust.
If my blues don't get you my jazzing must.



letra e imagem: aqui.

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