de 4 Iulie

La 4 iulie 1776, cele 13 colonii de peste ocean ale Regatului Unit al Marii Britanii se declarau independente, explicand motivele in celebra Declaratie de Independenta semnata la Philadelphia; toti semnatarii erau supusi ai Coroanei Britanice :) Asa ca de atunci americanii nu mai sunt englezi, desi vorbesc engleza :)

Tuturor prietenilor de peste ocean le urez astazi: "Happy 4th of July!"

Pentru mine 4 Iulie inseamna celebrul refren "Yankee Doodle", un cantec folosit de trupele colonistilor in perioada luptelor de independenta a SUA. Cand eram mica il fredonam deseori in inconstienta mea si-l dadeam astfel de gol pe tata ca asculta "Vocea Americii" :) , pana ce un apopiat i-a atras atentia ca poate da astfel de bucluc. Melodia-mi placea teribil, dar ma temeam sa o mai fredonez in public.



Si pentru ca medaliile au si revers, pentru mine 4 Iulie inseamna si un film celebru al lui Oliver Stone "Born on the 4th of July" (1989!), pentru care a primit Oscarul, cu Tom Cruise in rolul principal (pe vremea cand nu era un scientologist infumurat), din a carui coloana sonora imi va ramane mereu in minte o melodie superba compusa de Bob Dylan si cantata minunat de Eddie Brickwell and The Bohemians - "A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall":



"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, 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."