Posted by: gdevi | March 13, 2013

Bob Dylan, Pope Francis

What a relief; they found a new pope. And he is named after my St. Francis. I think I am going to like this pope.

Plus, they have decided to induct our own bard Bob Dylan into the Academy of Arts and Letters. Apparently, they could not decide if they should induct him for his music or his words. I think it is fairly obvious, don’t you? Of course, for his music. We cannot dissociate his words from his music. We hear it in his music. I am so pleased; though, god knows, Bob Dylan does not need anything anymore anywhere anytime. To me, Bob Dylan is like some permanent phenomenon in our landscape–like the mountains or the seas or something. He is a landscape. How can you honor a landscape? To commemorate this latest honor, here is my favorite Bob Dylan song. What a fine mind! Such beautiful beautiful meaningful enduring songs!

When I die, I want this played at my funeral.

———————————————————-

Lay down your weary tune, lay down

Lay down the song you strum

And rest  yourself ’neath the strength of strings

No voice can hope to hum.

Struck by the sounds before the sun

I knew the night had gone

The  morning breeze like a bugle blew

Against the drums of dawn.

Lay down your weary tune lay down

Lay down the song you strum

And rest  yourself ’neath the strength of strings

No voice can hope to hum.

The ocean wild like an organ played

The seaweeds wove its strands

The  crashin’ waves like cymbals clashed

Against the rocks and sands.

Lay down your weary tune, lay down

Lay down the song you strum

And rest  yourself ’neath the strength of strings

No voice can hope to hum.

I stood unwound beneath the skies

And clouds unbound by laws

The cryin’ rain like a trumpet sang

And asked for no applause.

Lay down your weary tune, lay down

Lay down the song you strum

And rest  yourself ’neath the strength of strings

No voice can hope to hum.

The last of leaves fell from the trees

And clung to a new love’s  breast

The branches bare like a banjo played

To the winds that listened  best.

I gazed down in the river’s mirror

And watched its winding strum

The  water smooth ran like a hymn

And like a harp did hum.

Lay down your weary tune, lay down

Lay down the song you strum

And rest  yourself ’neath the strength of strings

No voice can hope to hum.

Copyright © 1964, 1965 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed  1992, 1993 by Special Rider Music
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: