A singer folksy
In the hat,
Fumbling and mumbling,
Drunken and with a cigar
Appeared to be
He singing,
Half-saying, half-releasing,
Keeping the rest so stylistically
Strumming the guitar,
Strumming and singing,
Singing and striking
The wires,
The wires of life
To produce sounds,
Sounds to words
And words to lyrics.
Under the blue, blue sky,
Under the red, red sky
He dreaming,
Singing
And strumming the guitar,
Breaking the notes,
Plucking wires
In a haphazard way,
In a Beatle style,
In a gipsy mode of strumming,
Strumming the guitar.
Dylan, Dylan
Bob Dylan
The singer and the songwriter
And the musician,
Plucking the wires,
Wires
In a lost mood of own,
Singing, singing
The folk rock,
The ballad,
The song of the blonde
Going,
Going past.
Just like a bootlegger,
A peddler
Of dreams,
A bootlegger,
A navigator
Of dreams,
Your dreams,
My dreams,
Their dreams,
Bob Dylan
In the gumboots
With the guitar
Sparkling,
Taking the stage,
Bob is Bob.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem