La poesía de Dylan

Una de las cuatro perlas que formaban la cara B del LP Bringing it All Back Home es la espeluznante Gates of Eden, canción sembrada de excelentes versos a lo largo de sus casi seis minutos de duración.

Escrita en octubre de 1964, es de esas piezas que te machacan por su tristeza, por su duración, por la forma en que Dylan la canta. En ella, y en clave surrealista, Bob nos presenta un paraíso muy especial, un lugar aislado del mundo gracias a sus enormes puertas que impiden la entrada de reyes, de pecados, de juicios, de mentiras.

Sin otro acompañamiento que su guitarra y alguna pincelada de armónica de vez en cuando, va disparando al aire, una tras otra, frases que cada una de ellas serían dignas de un estudio pormenorizado.

«La verdad se trenza de guerra y de paz,
planea su falso toque de queda
sobre las nubes cuadrúpedas del bosque [...]
La farola permanece con los brazos cruzados,
sus garras de acero sujetas
a las aceras bajo los hoyos donde los críos sollozan [...]
Los reinos de la experiencia
se pudren en los grandiosos vientos,
mientras los pobres intercambian posesiones,
cada uno deseando lo que tiene el otro,
y la princesa y el príncipe discuten lo que es real y lo que no lo es,
pero eso no tiene importancia tras las puertas del Edén...».

Vemos muchos versos de ritmo trocaico en el que se alternan grupos de dos sílabas de las que va acentuada la primera de ellas:

The lamppost stands with folded arms
its iron claws attached […]

Relationships of ownership
they whisper in the wings
to those condemned to act accordingly
and wait for succeeding kings […]

The motorcycle black madonna
two-wheeled gypsy queen […]

Realmente no nos deja ni tiempo para asimilar tantos buenos versos seguidos, de una belleza plástica inigualable:

with a crassing but meaningless blow…
the lonesome sparrow sings…
who pick up on his bread crumb sins…

Y como cierre de todo, estos tres magníficos versos:

At times I think there are no words
but these to tell what's true
and there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden.

Realmente, después de escuchar esto, poco más se puede decir.


Gates Of Eden

Of war and peace the truth just twists
Its curfew gull just glides
Upon four-legged forest clouds
The cowboy angel rides
With his candle lit into the sun
Though its glow is waxed in black
All except when 'neath the trees of Eden

The lamppost stands with folded arms
Its iron claws attached
To curbs 'neath holes where babies wail
Though it shadows metal badge
All and all can only fall
With a crashing but meaningless blow
No sound ever comes from the Gates of Eden

The savage soldier sticks his head in sand
And then complains
Unto the shoeless hunter who's gone deaf
But still remains
Upon the beach where hound dogs bay
At ships with tattooed sails
Heading for the Gates of Eden

With a time-rusted compass blade
Aladdin and his lamp
Sits with Utopian hermit monks
Side saddle on the Golden Calf
And on their promises of paradise
You will not hear a laugh
All except inside the Gates of Eden

Relationships of ownership
They whisper in the wings
To those condemned to act accordingly
And wait for succeeding kings
And I try to harmonize with songs
The lonesome sparrow sings
There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden

The motorcycle black madonna
Two-wheeled gypsy queen
And her silver-studded phantom cause
The gray flannel dwarf to scream
As he weeps to wicked birds of prey
Who pick up on his bread crumb sins
And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden

The kingdoms of Experience
In the precious wind they rot
While paupers change possessions
Each one wishing for what the other has got
And the princess and the prince discuss
What's real and what is not
It doesn't matter inside the Gates of Eden

The foreign sun, it squints upon
A bed that is never mine
As friends and other strangers
From their fates try to resign
Leaving men wholly, totally free
To do anything they wish to do but die
And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden

At dawn my lover comes to me
And tells me of her dreams
With no attempts to shovel the glimpse
Into the ditch of what each one means
At times I think there are no words
But these to tell what's true
And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden

Copyright ©1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music