Pour Blaze encore,
Il faudrait aussi écouter son Oval Room, pour s'assurer des mots doux que Blaze sut trouver pour Ronald Reagan, Caspar Weinberger et autres âmes blanches...
Tiens, ça encore, in the backyard, où il chantait le tohu–bohu, dans la lumière déclinante, pour le mariage de ses amis, autour d'Austin, en 1983, If I could only fly, ce qui était bien autre chose que les simagrées d'un des plus mauvais acteurs français, avec un titre assez proche, «You know sometimes I write happy songs» :
I almost felt you touching me just now
I wish I knew which way to turn and go
I feel so good, and then I feel so bad
I wonder what I ought to do.
If I could only fly,
If I could only fly,
I'd bid this place goodbye, to come and be with you
But I can hardly stand, and I got nowhere to run
Another sinking sun, and one more lonely night.
The wind keeps blowing somewhere everyday
Tell me things get better, somewhere, up the way
Just dismal thinking on a dismal day
And sad songs for us to bare.
You know sometimes I write happy songs
But then sometimes little things are wrong
You know I wish they all could make you smile
Tomorrow maybe we can get away
Coming home soon and I wanna stay
I wish you could come with me when I go again.
If I could only fly,
If I could only fly,
I'd bid this place goodbye, to come and be with you
But I can hardly stand, and I got nowhere to run
Another sinking sun, and one more lonely night
If I could only fly
If you could only fly
If we could only fly
There'd be no more lonely nights.
«Wir leben unter finsteren Himmeln, und –es gibt wenig Menschen. Darum gibt es wohl auch so wenig Gedichte. Die Hoffnungen, die ich noch habe, sind nicht groß. Ich versuche, mir das mir Verbliebene zu erhalten. »
Paul Celan, 18 mai 1960, Lettre à Hans Bender.
