le boxeur
17 juin 2017 § 2 Commentaires
dessiné ce matin dans la pénombre au stylo-bille… en écoutant une histoire de corde qui casse et de rencontre dans le noir… Léo nous explique comment il cherche à trouver la détermination consciente…
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
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
Lie-la-lie…
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
La-la-la-la-la-la
Lie-la-lie…
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
To going home
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the remainders
Of every glove that laid him down
And cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains
Still remains
Lie-la-lie…
journal du dessin rencontre 
Beau des émotions que ce dessin dégage, que ce qu’il livre
Léo a fait 2000 sauts à la corde par jour … puis a passé trois jours dans la nuit … mon stylo a avancé tout seul …
merci Kilde pour tes mots …