The Boxer - Simon and Garfunkel

I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises.
All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest, hmmmm

When I left my home and my family, I's no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin' scared, laying low,
Seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go,
Looking for the places only they would know.

Li la li...

Asking only workman's wages, I come lookin' for a job,
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the whores on 7th Avenue.
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there.

La la la...

now the years are rolling by me, they are -[rockin evenly]-
i am older than i once was
and younger than i'll be that's not unusual.
no it isnt strange after changes upon changes we are more or less the same
after changes we are more or less the same

Li la li...


And I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone,
goin' home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleedin' me, leadin' me,
goin' home.

In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him
'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains.


Li la li...

E' buffo che una stessa canzone risentita a distanza di 10 anni porti con sé significati totalmente diversi. Risentire, ora, In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade and he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him 'til he cried out in his anger and his shame. I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains, è un modo per tornare alla vita. Ero, sì, il vecchio pugile, andato (troppe) volte al tappeto, ero sì, il giovane fallito senza più forze, senza più entusiasmi, sconfitto nelle notti tedesche. Era tutto vero. Ma mentre andavo via, finalmente, sussultavo. Finalmemnte il vento gelido, oltre che ferirmi, riusciva a anche a destrarmi dal torpore in cui versavo da mesi. Finalmente, ai pugni che arrivavano, non reagivo, certo, ma quantomeno tornavo a sentirne il dolore. Finalmente, m'ero svegliato una mattina. Ed avevo aperto gli occhi.

Finalmente. Finalmente leggere il titolo del libro di Himket: "Gran bella è cosa è vivere, miei cari", non mi faceva venire voglia di buttarmi dalla finistra.