A la tardor del 1972, durant sis anys, Bob Dylan havia estat vivint força allunyat de la vista del públic. La guerra del Vietnam s’estava apagant, però el moviment de protesta encara era fort i necessitava un líder de la seva talla. Joan Baez, amb qui havia compartit una relació sentimental i una manera d’entendre i de defensar el món, a través de la cançó To Bobby (1971), es va preguntar on era aquell home ple d’ideals, de ganes de canviar-ho tot. Aquella veu i aquell compromís que seguia sent necessari. Celebrem l’aniversari de la cantautora, nascuda el 9 de gener del 1941 a Staten Island, Nova York, a escoltant-ne aquesta crida.
I’ll put flowers at your feet and I will sing to you so sweet
And hope my words will carry home to your heart
You left us marching on the road and said how heavy was the load
The years were young, the struggle barely had its start
Do you hear the voices in the night, Bobby?
They’re crying for you
See the children in the morning light, Bobby
They’re dying
No one could say it like you said it, we’d only try and just forget it
You stood alone upon the mountain till it was sinking
And in a frenzy we tried to reach you
With looks and letters we would beseech you
Never knowing what, where or how you were thinking
Do you hear the voices in the night, Bobby?
They’re crying for you
See the children in the morning light, Bobby
They’re dying
Perhaps the pictures in the Times could no longer be put in rhymes
When all the eyes of starving children are wide open
You cast aside the cursed crown and put your magic into a sound
That made me think your heart was aching or even broken
But if God hears my complaint He will forgive you
And so will I, with all respect, I’ll just relive you
And likewise, you must understand these things we give you
Like these flowers at your door and scribbled notes about the war
We’re only saying the time is short and there is work to do
And we’re still marching in the streets with little victories and big defeats
But there is joy and there is hope and there’s a place for you
And you have heard the voices in the night, Bobby
They’re crying for you
See the children in the morning light, Bobby
They’re dying
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