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The Child

The Guitar Man

Melancholia I

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The Guitar Man Fulltext version

A middle-aged man in an old overcoat comes walking slowly in.He sways as he walks. His hair is wet and uncombed.On his hands he has grey woollen gloves without fingers. He carries a worn-out guitar case. He brushes his free hand over his hair, looks around Oh well Inside at last Aye it's cold today Terribly cold He walks back and forth a bit But it's warm here Good and warm He stops. Sets his guitar case on the floor, supports himself against it. Pause Here it's good and warm He looks around But for me I guess it's always the same If only it doesn't get too cold Because it's not he shakes his head good to be freezing Otherwise of course there's no difference any more for me Everything goes the same way Day out and day in I stand there in my underpass and play my guitar sing my songs the same songs over and over again And people they walk past me all day long people walk past me some walk in towards town some walk out from town The whole day people walk past me He gestures with his free arm, moves it back and forth, shows how people walk past him all day Towards me Past me The whole day people walk past me In my underpass they all walk by They walk past me The whole time while I stand there playing people come towards me people walk away from me Every single day they walk past me And a lot of the same ones walk past me every single day And I sing for them every single day And they usually bow their heads down when they walk past me It's as if they're ashamed about always having to walk past me and hear me sing and now in the winter they have to see me standing there freezing and strumming chord after chord on my guitar and singing the same songs Day after day they see me standing there singing and every single day I sing them the same songs while they as usual walk past me Come towards me Walk away from me And they're ashamed when they walk past me Because the ones who walk past me every single day they almost never give me any money Only if they they walk past me on a special day Independence Day for instance or a day when they've had something to drink do they give me a few bob On such days too somebody can give me a good deal of money But on ordinary days they just walk past me with their heads bowed They walk past me and feel ashamed They walk past me with their heads bowed while I stand there singing and strumming the best known chords on my guitar They walk past me and feel ashamed Questioningly And is it me they're ashamed of Or are they ashamed of themselves Why are they ashamed like that In long lines they walk past me every single day and they hear me sing Men Women Children Old folks While I stand there in my underpass and play my guitar they walk past me And at my feet my guitar case stands open And some of them drop some coins down into my guitar case But most of them don't I stand there singing I can stand there singing by the hour Not that I know so many songs And actually I guess I don't like singing on the whole And actually I guess I don't like music either Pause Not any more But earlier on I guess I liked music Then there wasn't anything else I liked as well as music Laughs a bit dejectedly And now I guess I don't like music any more not anything special Not now any more Enthusiastically But I sing every single day and earn a few bob at it I sing my songs I sing my songs for those who will hear laughs a bit but also for those who won't hear And I'm grateful if anybody will give me a few bob Some coins from his pocket If anybody will reach down in his pocket and take out some coins and fling them down in my guitar case then I'm grateful for it I sing my songs for money That's the way I am Short pause Of course it could have gone different for me And that I'd end up in just this town so far up in the north that I'd probably never have believed But then that's what I did He laughs I came here because of a woman and I stayed here because of a son He laughs and shakes his head That's how it is all right And I guess there's nothing wrong with that Because that's how it is You come because of a woman You stay because of a child Thinks it over And of course because of a fear I can't put my finger on Pause But somehow it sounds so important So It sounds almost beautiful He laughs a little And not a word is true in a song lyric like that New pause And so I'm a street musician Street singer they say They call me most often I guess just The Man with the Guitar My mother already called me that Whatever she may have meant by it Short pause But anyway it was my mother who started calling me The Man with the Guitar Because when I was young I guess I was always playing the guitar I played before I went to school I played after I came home from school I played and played But did I get good at playing the guitar even if I practiced and practiced No far from it He laughs, shakes his head a bit dejectedly I've never been good at anything at all I've played a lot of guitar But good at guitar playing I guess I've never been I'm a lousy guitarist short pause despite the fact that I've played and played from the time I was a little kid nobody can claim I've become any kind of a good guitarist I'm a lousy guitarist Laughs a bit And I'm a still lousier singer And the kids shout at me Guitar Man rattles like a can they shout Go back home where you came from Go on then That's how they shout at me the kids do And in the winter it can be they throw snowballs at me They throw snowballs I guess both at me and at my guitar And they shout at me And it can be too that they try to steal my money from me He slaps his hand against his coat pocket and coins jingle I never got to be any big-time musician And I never managed to write my own songs I just play and sing other people's songs I stand in an underpass and play the guitar And I sing with the voice I've got He nods, laughs, picks up the guitar case, then walks around the room, still slowly and with swaying movements No I never got to be one of the big ones I am and will remain the Guitar Man A man with his guitar A man who sings some songs He walks over and places the guitar case against a bar counter, he pulls off his woollen gloves, puts them on the counter, he lifts his hands to his mouth, blows on his hands. Then he sits down on a bar stool, a glass of beer already stands on the counter. He takes a handful of coins from his coat pocket, lays them on the counter. He feels to see if there are more coins in his pocket, finds a couple more, lays them on the counter too Of course there are a few bob every day If the weather's hot and sunny the money's good If it's cold and grey it's not so good And today it was godawful cold He blows on his hands again, then begins counting the money Five pounds He counts on Six He counts on Seven pounds fifty Not so bad Not so bad on a day with weather like that Because today it was really cold But anyway I played for a few hours in spite of the cold And today there was one man who gave me three pounds Yes that happens too so it does And he's walked past me every single day for many years without giving me a penny Never before did he give me a single penny but today he stopped and stood there staring at me with round bright eyes I was there when my old lady was burned he said I nodded just kept on singing kept on strumming the usual chords on my guitar I saw my old lady put into the oven he said and he nodded to me Right in he said and flung his arm around he flings his own arm around and he stared at me with big wet blue eyes that turned a bit grey then Right into the oven with her he said And out came some ashes That's all That's all that's left of my old lady and of her life he said and he flung his arms around He flings his own arms around That's all the man said And I've heard you singing for so many years You can have some money he said and then he pulled out his money and gave me three pounds No more than that and not less either Three pounds neither more nor less Here he said and dropped the money in my guitar case And I was finished with the song I've burnt my old lady up today and afterwards I had to have something to drink That's why I'm a bit drunk the man said and I nodded and I started one more song and I saw the man walk along my underpass as I'd so often seen him walk before along my underpass Often alone I saw him walking there And often with his wife He takes a swallow of beer Yes that's how it is That's how a life is He begins singing, cautiously Maybe he came to this town one time because of his wife And he stayed here because of her And now his wife's gone Now she's turned to ashes And I too came to this town one time because of a woman That's how it is He stops singing But it's breaks off I'm no old man Just almost He laughs briefly Yes sir I guess I'm mostly an old man And definitely not a youngster in any case And one time I came to this town because of a woman Once upon a time But now that's long ago He gets down from the stool, bends and opens the guitar case, takes out the guitar. He sits down again on the stool, strums some chords, sings cautiously I came here because of a woman Once upon a time I came to this town Once upon a time I came to this very town so far up north And we lived our lives together she and I So far up north And got ourselves a son from God Our God gave us a son He stops singing, still strums some chords on the guitar, then he strums the open strings, laughs a bit Yes sir Well it went the way it went And there's probably not much to talk about No draws it out Nothing to make a fuss about Pause. He puts his hand on the counter, moves the pile of coins a little back and forth And there was some money today too Though it was so cold Not so much but a bit He fiddles around a bit with the coins.Then he strums a couple of chords more on the guitar, then strums the open strings again Everything turns out the way it turns out And everything has its time as he says the wise man in the Bible He nods Yes that's how it is Pause There is a time for everything A time for being together A time for being alone A time for living A time for giving up Short pause And sometime a man's got to give up you know Everything can't just go on A man must begin A man must give up He begins to fumble with the coins again And then seventy-five P for the beer He lifts the glass, drinks, he runs his hand through his hair, shakes his head a little, then counts up seventy-five pence, pushes them across the bar-top, the other money he pushes over the edge of the bar, receives them in his other hand and then puts the money into his coat pocket. He drinks a little more beer Not bad with the money today in spite of the cold But it was cold playing Today it was damned cold He gets up, walks around a bit, carries the guitar in one hand The winters are cold for the man who plays outside But after all I live off this money I gather in by playing So if it's cold of course I have to play It's hardly enough as it is I have to play in any case But He looks up suddenly, as if he had thought of something. He stands there a moment looking up, his face slightly transfigured Yes I guess that's how it is Everything must breaks off. He smiles to himself, takes up the guitar, strums some chords, begins to sing, cheerfully I came here because of a woman From a land with another language I was here because of a son He stops playing the guitar, short pause, goes on singing A son with another language And I hear the music come And I hear the music go I live here because of a child I had I live here and play and believe Every single day I play outside I play outside my oldest song And get some coins for it I live here in an old shed And get along with it in a way I get some money for my singing And am satisfied with it He stops singing. He begins to walk back and forth, with the guitar in one hand, he laughs briefly to himself It didn't turn out to be a lot But well it turned out the way it turned out It could have turned out to be a lot but well it just turned out exactly the way it turned out He walks over to the bar, drinks more beer. Then he walks around carrying his guitar, he holds it up in position, is going to begin playing, but he changes his mind No I won't play any more I've strummed the same chords far too many times He looks at the guitar, shakes his head No Oh no And what then Quotes himself What then What then He begins to sing Everything turns out the way it turns out What happens happens There's no more to say No I'm not so much There's just what you see A little hair some old clothes A beat-up face Hair that soon will be thin and grey A weary man I guess is what you usually see I guess I'm a weary man I guess I'm not much more than you see He stops singing. Pause. He starts talking And I don't have anything special Some clothes A guitar A kind of guts maybe not the greatest but I guess I do have guts when I sing my songs for the ones who want to hear short pause, adds smiling but also for the ones who don't want to hear He begins singing again I'm no more than you see And I know some songs but not so many Most that I knew I've forgotten I'm no more than you see I'm just what you can see I'm just slow movements I'm just wind and rain I'm just deep despair and breaks off, stops singing No I'm not deep despair That's just a short pause well just a pretty phrase Short pause. He begins to sing again But I'm an old-fashioned song A song I've never sung I'm in my own despair and I sing my song where I go I sing of the day growing blue I sing of the weary day I sing of the best day I sing of the greatest joy I sing of the smallest need I sing of the sorrow I feel I sing of the coming day he stops singing, begins to speak when I'll finally carry myself away in somebody else's song The day when I finally breathe in the tongue that speaks my life The song we're all going to hear Me and the others and you He goes and sits down in a corner, with his guitar on his lap, he sits there like that for a while. He gets up, then walks around a bit, walks over to the bar, sets down the guitar, which he leans against the bar, he takes off his coat, coins rattle in it, he lays the coat across the bar top, then walks around a little That's how it is I guess Short pause, he nods to himself But everything has its time as it says in the Bible in the Book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible Everything has its time A man And a piece of music He goes over and picks up the guitar, strums the open strings, then begins to unscrew one string, sounds the string with his thumb at the same time, he unscrews the string completely, sounds it and the string strikes against the guitar No I guess I can't stay there I guess I can't keep standing there in my underpass singing the old songs Year out and year in I came here Thinks about it Well it's a long time ago now I came here from another country And I stayed here I lived with a woman but then he laughs she didn't want to have any more to do with me He laughs again, shakes his head And by that time we'd got ourselves a son And we'd got ourselves a little house on the edge of the woods down by the shore But then she didn't want to have any more to do with me He shakes his head, laughs Any more to do with me He begins to sing, tries to play the guitar some more, with the one string loose She didn't want to have any more to do with me She said I just sat there with my guitar and I'd probably never get anywhere I was probably just going to sit there with my guitar I was never going to earn money enough for me to contribute my share He finishes singing and playing. Pause. He speaks She herself was a teacher Explaining She'd intended to paint pictures but then she couldn't sell a single picture so she started as a teacher She didn't earn so much But enough to live on He begins to sing again, a little bitterly But enough to live on To live on To live on She went to work every single day She came home from work every single day I was there at home with our son I sat there I guess with my guitar She went She came She went She came She went to work every single day and then came home to me and my guitar and to our son Speaks again, explaining And she stopped painting her pictures Not that it mattered so much He laughs No I probably shouldn't say a thing like that But they weren't anything especially good the pictures she painted She painted pictures indeed she did And she had enough training the kind they have in this country so far up north But were the pictures good He shakes his head They were clear her pictures No more than that They were clear pure and simple but any art to speak of indeed there was not Short pause And for that matter there was nobody who claimed there was either He laughs briefly. Pause. He looks down, he unscrews the string still more, unscrews it completely from its peg and it hangs there dangling She was corrects himself she is a failed artist That's how it is But I guess they're needed they too Questioning If somebody's going to succeed somebody has to fail too I guess that's how it is Maybe Maybe that's how it is He begins to sing, tries to play the guitar some more, with the one string dangling down I guess that's how it is that if some are going to succeed others must try but not manage it She was a failed artist One day she asked me to go I sing my songs for money And I'm a lonesome man I'm a very lonesome man with his guitar He stops singing and playing But someday a man has to give up And I guess I can gladly give up I guess I can gladly give up I guess I don't need to stay here He looks at the guitar, laughs I'd rather breaks off Well what would I rather Go on say it I'd rather He strikes another string on the guitar, then begins to unscrew that string too Somewhat confidentially And I think my son has started to feel embarrassed over having me as his father Think of having a father who just stands there in his underpass and plays on his guitar He screws the string quite loose, plinks a bit on the loose string Well I guess I must just give up He unscrews the string still farther, loosens it from its peg, so that it too hangs there dangling I have to give up I guess I've been of no use and now I guess I have to give up He stands there looking at the guitar, begins to sing, tries to play the guitar some more, with four strings I guess I just have to give up I never should have come to this country I guess so far up north But I did you know And then I had my son And then I stayed And now my son's so much ashamed of me He finishes singing and playing. He shakes his head, laughs, speaks I'm a failed man Yes that's it exactly He puts down the guitar. Walks out on the floor a bit, looks at the guitar. He stands there looking at the guitar. He walks over to the guitar again, he picks it up, he strums the open strings and then unscrews one string more, strums the strings again, he unscrews the string completely, loosens it too from its peg. He pulls on the next string, pulls and pulls, and the string snaps. He begins to laugh. He sets the guitar down against the bar, sits down on the stool, picks up the beer glass, drinks a bit. He supports his head in his hands. He sits there with his head in his hands. He looks up. Speaks consolingly Well there must be a way out I don't need to stay in this town so far up north Pause And God he'll help me all right He laughs briefly, then suddenly walks out on the floor, begins to walk back and forth. Begins to sing Now I put my humble trust in God in heaven If God won't see to me then I can breaks off, short pause, then continues singing I know a fortress in heaven's kingdom as grand as the shining sun Folks there aren't poor or rich He stops singing, laughs loudly Fine Yes not the worst at all Quite fine Or I've got a good relationship with My Lord Well no not that but I guess I have I guess I believe I have a very good relationship with Our Lord I don't know Pause. Confidingly I pray a lot to Our Lord And I believe that I'm in his grace Pause When I stand there singing well then I guess I also believe it has something to do with Our Lord Laughs That's how it is I believe I've got a very good relationship with Our Lord He walks over to the bar, picks up the beer glass, drinks a bit. He takes a tobacco pack from his back pocket, rolls himself a smoke, lights up Well then I guess I'll travel on I guess it'll work out He seats himself on the stool, sits there smoking I guess it'll work out He looks at the guitar I've been trying long enough now He stubs out the the cigarette, rises, walks out on the floor. He stands there looking down at his shoes Yes well That's that then Enough's enough as the saying goes He sighs. Pause. Then he begins to walk around, he begins to sing I've travelled round in the lands of the world and sought a place to be I've travelled round in others' tracks to many lands on earth I've sought people and peace in many lands and towns I've sought friendship shelter and rest in many lands and worlds Now I'm tired and long for an unknown place to be There I can get a little peace in my heart and a life to bear I move my foot I sing my song I open up my window I see my sorrow I see your sorrow I see we have to go away to an unknown town I see we have to travel off to an eternal town He stops singing, stands looking around him shamefaced. Pause.Then he begins to sing again I'm a failed attempt made once at a better life I'm a failed idea filled with my own strange sorrow I was a man with a guitar who froze and sang in his long-drawn night I'm a man and all I have left is not worth remembering I walked and lay I stood and saw And soon then I'll have to travel off I'm travelling now to another place where you don't need money anymore I pray to my God and know he will give me his eternal rest He laughs, shakes his head. Sings on I pray to you God come take my hand and take me to your border I pray to you God let me stay there in your great mercy Let me stay there so heavy and free in your great movement Let me stay there the way I once was a nothing filled with something Let me become nothing and let that song be heard Let me become an unknown sign the others have to interpret Let me become a star-song that the angels can sing Let me rest this time and let me meet again my friend that dog I lost and let me stand and look around me and not see a thing He stops singing, shakes his head dejectedly Ironically Not see a thing in the sky's blue ring Feet take wing He walks over and drinks a little beer, lifts up the guitar, he unscrews the last two strings, releases them from their pegs, they too hang there dangling, he lays the guitar on the bar top, he takes his coat, pulls it on, he puts one his gloves, he lifts the guitar case, walks around a little. He composes himself, leaning on the guitar case That's how it is He begins to sing I haven't anything to lose I haven't anything to win I haven't anything left of what gave me a future But I'm my own night And I guess I'm a language nobody else understands He stops singing, shakes his head Think of saying something like that a language nobody else understands Dejected about himself And why should anybody else have to understand the language perhaps I had to be He sighs No No I guess it doesn't make any difference I guess it doesn't breaks off But money I've sure earned money today He puts his hand down in his coat pocket, jingles the coins But not so much money for a grown man to get by on I've just earned a few pounds Some coins He takes his fist with some coins in it from his coat pocket. He drops a couple of them on the floor Some coins hardly enough for a couple of glasses of beer Just enough for a little food He drops a couple more coins on the floor No I guess this won't do He goes down on his knees again, picks up the coins again, puts them back in his coat pocket. He looks up It had to end like this Anything else wouldn't have made sense He smiles to himself But it's probably the likes of me who will inherit God's kingdom He laughs, shakes his head That's what I'll believe It's probably not the fine people It's probably the likes of me Or maybe Maybe not He laughs again and shakes his head, he rises, begins to walk around. He begins to sing And I'm always walking off through towns and streets I see people come and go They're always walking off through my underpass They come and go They look at me They always walk on They go their way They come and go They always walk on They breaks off, stops singing They He looks around himself, walks over and sits down in the corner, with the guitar case between his knees. Pause. He looks at the guitar case What'll I do with this I wonder I don't have a guitar anymore So I guess I don't need a guitar case anymore either Pause But this is a fine guitar case Old and fine Maybe I should He rises, places the guitar case against the wall No I don't need it He walks around a little No what would I do with a guitar case when I don't have a guitar He laughs Everything has its time A guitar case too That's right He walks, still slowly and swaying, across the floor, he sees that a coin is left lying on the floor, he goes down on his knees, picks up the coin, puts it in his coat pocket. He rises, sees that there is a little beer left in the glass, he goes over then and drinks it down. He stands up straight, pulls his tobacco pack out of his back pocket, rolls himself a smoke, lights it, then walks slowly out. Curtain (1994) Translated by Louis Muinzer

© Bergen Off. Bibliotek Last updated 16 March 2000 by Elin Huseby and Henrik Kiiehn Nielsen