| tribu |
Little white flowers will never awaken you.
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
Angels have no thought of ever returning you.
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy Sunday, with shadows I spend it all.
My heart and I have decided to end it all.
Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know.
Let them not weep...let them know that I'm glad to go.
Death is no dream, for in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you.
(Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you.)
This song, also known as 'Gloomy Sunday' was written in the late thrities by a pair of Hungarian composers. It recevied no attention at first, but a rumour was started a few years later connecting this this song to a disputable number of suicides in Hungary (this rumour has never been proven or disproven). Once the rumour hit whatever passed for supermarket shelves in the forties, American composers jumped all over the chance to record it for themselves. Since 1939, at least 50 interpretations of this songs have hit the record racks. The one that inspired this thread was Venetian Snares - Öngyilkos Vasárnap. |
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