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Quand j'ai quitté ma maison et ma famille Je n'étais rien qu'un garçon apeuré cherchant les quartiers pauvres où l'on va en haillons Paul SIMON - the boxer

Texte (description) :
Jose Claudio ANTOLINEZ - le marchant de peinture 1670 Dans ce tableau, Antolinez semble s'être inspiré de Velázquez. Sa technique habile et délicate, avec des emprunts à Rubens et aux Vénitiens, demeure très originale pour suggérer la vibration de l'atmosphère et la légèreté des tissus. Il est un excellent portraitiste. Illustr musicale: Paul SIMON et Joan BAEZ - the boxer Les paroles prennent la forme d'une lamentation à la première personne où un jeune homme arrive à New York et n'arrive à trouver ni travail, ni amour, ne trouvant du réconfort qu'avec les prostituées de la Septième Avenue. Il décrit son combat pour surmonter la solitude et la pauvreté. Lors du couplet final, la chanson passe à la troisième personne et décrit un boxeur qui continue le combat malgré tous les coups qu'il reçoit, affirmant qu'il va abandonner mais se refusant à le faire. 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, mhmm When I left my home and my family I was no more than a boy In the company of strangers In the quiet of a railway station running scared Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters Where the ragged people go Looking for the places only they would know Asking only workman's wages I come looking for a job But I get no offers Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there Now the years are rolling by me They are rocking evenly I am older than I once was And younger than I'll be, that's not unusual It isn't strange after changes upon changes We are more or less the same After changes we are more or less the same Then I'm laying out my winter clothes And wishing I was gone, going home Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me Leading me, going 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 And cut him 'til he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains, mhmm

Texte2 (préface) :
WINSTON (Charlie), like a hobo.mp3 peinture, espagne, Oil on canvas. 201 x 125 cm, munich, alte pinkothek ANTOLINEZ, The Picture Merchant. 1670. Oil on canvas. 201 x 125 cm. Alte Pinakothek, Munich, Germany SIMON (Paul) et Joan BAEZ, the boxer 2016.mp3 I am just a poor boy Though my story's seldom told I have squandered my resistance For a pocket full of mumbles Such are promises All lies and jests Still a man hears what he wants to hear And disregards the rest When I left my home and my family I was no more than a boy In the company of strangers In the quiet of the railway station Running scared Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters Where the ragged people go Looking for the places Only they would know

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