Le blues usé
The Weary Blues
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway. . . .
He did a lazy sway. . . .
To the tune o’those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hand on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man’s soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—
“Ain’t got nobody in all this world,
Ain’t go nobody but ma self. I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’
And put ma troubles on the shelf.”
Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more—
“I got the Weary Blues
And I can’t be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can’t be satisfied—
I ain’t happy no mo’
And I wish that I had died.”
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.
Le blues usé
Fredonnant un air syncopé traînant
Se balançant d’avant en arrière sur un doux chant
J’ai entendu un Noir jouer.
En bas de Lenox Avenue l’autre nuit
À la lueur pâle et blafarde d’un vieux bec de gaz
Il se berçait indolent. . . .
Il se berçait indolent. . . .
Sur l’air d’ces Blues usés.
Avec sa main d’ébène sur chaque touche d’ivoire
Il faisait gémir ce pauvre piano avec sa mélodie.
Ô Blues !
En tanguant sur son tabouret bancal,
Il jouait ce triste ragtime comme un fou musical.
Doux Blues !
Sortis de l’âme d’un homme noir.
Ô Blues !
D’une voix profonde chantant avec un ton de mélancolie
J’ai entendu ce Noir chanter, ce vieux piano gémir —
« J’ai personne dans le monde entier
J’ai personne sauf moi
J’vais arrêter de faire la gueule
Et mettre mes soucis au placard. »
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