Sobre Sting (estudio psicorreligioso de poca monta)

“And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,

Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;

And, oh, the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,

To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessed Christmas Day.”

(“Christmas at sea”, frag., Robert Louis Stevenson)

Dice Sting en “Live in Berlin”, cuando presenta la canción “Why should I cry for you”, que cuando era chico su padre le dijo: “Hijo, cuando seas grande, ve al mar”. Él no sabe bien qué le quiso decir su padre, pero supone que se refería a tener una vida excitante. Y cree que en cierta forma lo hizo.

 

Dice también Sting, en los textos de su disco “If on a winter’s night…”, que él no es creyente, aunque desarrollo un gusto especial y respeto por cierta música religiosa. Y en ese disco Sting le puso música a un poema de Stevenson, ese que cito al inicio.

 

Sin quererlo él (más que probablemente) esto nos dice mucho de Sting. Es fácil imaginarse al personaje de Stevenson como Sting mismo, hecho a la mar y alejado de la fe. Y aunque él no manifiesta en algún otro lado, que yo sepa, el arrepentimiento ese que parece nacer en el personaje de Stevenson, es notorio que él guste de la música religiosa (himnos medievales, carols).

 

Y ahora salió su nuevo disco, “The Last Ship”. Quizás haya allí muchos más datos para este estudio psicorreligioso barato que estoy haciendo. El disco está inspirado justamente en el pueblo portuario de su niñez y la primera canción, “The Last Ship”, tiene una letra que llama mucho la atención. ¿Es feo lo que dice? No parece burla. Bien pensado parece una fantasía (con toques de evangelio apócrifo) en que Jesús resucitado sale corriendo porque debe auxiliar el viaje de un barco, o algo así. No lo sé. Juzguen los que llegaron hasta aquí (y aún tienen fuerzas para seguir).

 

The Last Ship

(Sting)

 

It's all there in the gospels, the Magdalene girl

Comes to pay her respects, but her mind is awhirl.

When she finds the tomb empty, the stone had been rolled,

Not a sign of a corpse in the dark and the cold.

When she reaches the door, sees an unholy sight,

There's this solitary figure in a halo of light.

He just carries on floating past Calvary Hill,

In an almighty hurry, aye but she might catch him still.

 

"Tell me where are ye going Lord, and why in such haste?"

"Now don't hinder me woman, I've no time to waste!

For they're launching a boat on the morrow at noon,

And I have to be there before daybreak.

Oh I canna be missing, the lads'll expect me,

Why else would the good Lord himself resurrect me?

For nothing will stop me, I have to prevail,

Through the teeth of this tempest, in the mouth of a gale,

May the angels protect me if all else should fail,

When the last ship sails."

 

Oh the roar of the chains and the cracking of timbers,

The noise at the end of the world in your ears,

As a mountain of steel makes its way to the sea,

And the last ship sails.
It's a strange kind of beauty,

It's cold and austere,

And whatever it was that ye've done to be here,

It's the sum of y’r hopes y’r despairs and y’r fears,

When the last ship sails.

 

Well the first to arrive saw these signs in the east,

Like that strange moving finger at Balthazar's Feast,

Where they asked the advice of some wandering priest,

And the sad ghosts of men whom they'd thought long deceased,

And whatever got said, they'd be counted at least,

When the last ship sails.

 

Oh the roar of the chains and the cracking of timbers,

The noise at the end of the world in your ears,

As a mountain of steel makes its way to the sea,

And the last ship sails.

And whatever you'd promised, whatever you've done,

And whatever the station in life you've become.

In the name of the Father, in the name of the Son,

And whatever the weave of this life that you've spun,

On the Earth or in Heaven or under the Sun,

When the last ship sails.

 

(Envío)