Bob Dylan: Premio Nobel per la Letteratura «La sua canzone è poesia»

Oggi vi presenterò una delle figure più influenti nella musica dell'ultimo secolo. 

Robert Allen Zimmerman meglio noto come Bob Dylan (Duluth, Minnesota, 24 maggio 1941),è  uno dei più importanti cantautori e compositori della seconda metà del Novecento americana.Anche scrittore e poeta, attore, pittore, scultore, Dylan è senza dubbio una delle più importanti figure del pop folk e della cultura di massa degli ultimi cinquant’anni .

L’Accademia di Svezia nel 2016 ha conferito a Bob Dylan il premio Nobel per la letteratura — «per aver creato», dice la motivazione, «nuove espressioni poetiche all’interno della grande tradizione della canzone americana».

Per l’influenza che le sue canzoni e composizioni hanno avuto in tutto il mondo; Bob Dylan ha 

dagli inizi degli anni Sessanta  creato, in parole e musica, un universo illimitato, che ha pervaso il globo.

La canzone con cui ha vinto il Premio Nobel s'intitola: "A Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall".

Egli disse: "Scrissi quella canzone ai tempi della crisi dei missili a Cuba. Mi trovavo in Bleecher Street di notte assieme ad altra gente e ci chiedevamo preoccupati se la fine del mondo fosse prossima. Avremmo mai visto l'alba del giorno seguente? Era una canzone di disperazione... Cosa potevamo fare? Come potevamo controllare le persone che erano in procinto di annientarci? Le parole mi vennero fuori in fretta, molto in fretta...Era una canzone di terrore; frase dopo frase dopo frase cercando di catturare il feeling procuratomi dalla sensazione del nulla.

Canzone scritta durante l'estate del 1963,la struttura del testo è basata sulla tradizionale ballata Lord Randal. In questa canzone l'autore afferma che non vuole solo alludere alla guerra nucleare ma soprattutto a come adesso il mondo sia avvelenato e malvagio.

Testo :

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?

Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?

I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains

I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways

I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests

I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans

I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard

And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard

And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?

Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?

I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it

I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it

I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’

I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’

I saw a white ladder all covered with water

I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken

I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children

And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard

And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?

And what did you hear, my darling young one?

I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’

Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world

Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’

Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’

Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’

Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter

Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley

And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard

And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?

Who did you meet, my darling young one?

I met a young child beside a dead pony

I met a white man who walked a black dog

I met a young woman whose body was burning

I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow

I met one man who was wounded in love

I met another man who was wounded with hatred

And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard

It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?

Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?

I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’

I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest

Where the people are many and their hands are all empty

Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters

Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison

Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden

Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten

Where black is the color, where none is the number

And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it

And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it

Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’

But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’

And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard

It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.