Come round by my side and I'll sing you a song.
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong.
On Birmingham Sunday the blood ran like wine,
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.
That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun,
And Addie Mae Collins, her number was one.
At an old Baptist church there was no need to run.
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom,
The clouds they were grey and the autumn winds blew,
And Denise McNair brought the number to two.
The falcon of death was a creature they knew,
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom,
The church it was crowded, but no one could see
That Cynthia Wesley's dark number was three.
Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me.
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.
Young Carol Robertson entered the door
And the number her killers had given was four.
She asked for a blessing but asked for no more,
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.
On Birmingham Sunday a noise shook the ground.
And people all over the earth turned around.
For no one recalled a more cowardly sound.
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.
The men in the forest they once asked of me,
How many black berries grew in the Blue Sea.
And I asked them right with a tear in my eye.
How many dark ships in the forest?
The Sunday has come and the Sunday has gone.
And I can't do much more than to sing you a song.
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong.
And the choirs keep singing of Freedom.
inviata da Riccardo Venturi - 26/12/2007 - 19:59
A Birmingham in Alabama, prima della messa domenicale, avviene la Strage della Chiesa Battista della Sedicesima Strada. Nella chiesa, frequentata da neri, esplode una bomba, messa da uomini del Ku Klux Klan locale, uccidendo quattro bambine dagli 11 ai 14 anni e ferendone 22.
LA DOMENICA DI BIRMINGHAM
Venite qui accanto a me e vi canterò una canzone.
La canterò tanto piano da non far male a nessuno,
sulla domenica di Birmingham il sangue scorreva come vino
e i cori continuavano a cantare di Libertà.
In quella fredda mattina autunnale gli occhi non videro il sole
e Addie Mae Collins fu la prima di numero.
A una vecchia chiesa Battista non c'era bisogno di accorrere
e i cori continuavano a cantare di Libertà.
Le nuvole erano grige e soffiavano i venti autunnali,
e Denise Mc Nair portò il numero a due.
L'avvoltoio della morte fu una creatura che conobbero,
e i cori continuavano a cantare di Libertà.
La chiesa era affollata, ma nessuno vide
che Cynthia Wesley aveva il lugubre numero tre.
Le sue preghiere e quel che sentiva ci farebbero vergognare
e i cori continuavano a cantare di Libertà.
La giovane Carol Robertson varcò la porta
e il numero assegnatole dai suoi assassini era il quattro.
Chiese una benedizione, poi non chiese più nulla
e i cori continuavano a cantare di Libertà.
La domenica di Birmingham, un rumore scosse il suolo
e tutta la gente della terra si voltò intorno
perché nessuno aveva mai udito un suono tanto vigliacco,
e i cori continuavano a cantare di Libertà.
Gli uomini della foresta una volta mi chiesero
quanti mirtilli crescessero nel mare blu.
E io chiesi a loro volta, con le lacrime agli occhi:
quante nere navi ci sono nella foresta?
La Domenica se n'è andata così come è venuta,
e non posso fare molto di più che cantarvi una canzone.
La canterò così piano da non far male a nessuno,
e i cori continuano a cantare di Libertà.
27/12/2007 - 22:08
DIMANCHE A BIRMINGHAM
Venez vous asseoir près de moi et je vais vous chanter une chanson.
Je vais la chanter si doucement, elle vous plaira.
A Birmingham dimanche le sang coula comme le vin
et les chœurs continuèrent à chanter la Liberté
Par ce froid matin d'automne, personne ne vit le soleil,
et Addie Mae Collins fut la première.
A la vieille église baptiste, il n'y avait aucun besoin de courir,
et les choeurs continuèrent à chanter la Liberté.
Les nuages étaient gris et les vents d'automne soufflaient,
Denise McNair porta le nombre à deux.
Le faucon de la mort est une créature qu'elles connaissaient
et les chœurs entonnèrent des chants de Liberté.
L'église était comble, mais personne ne put voir
que le sombre numéro de Cynthia Wesley était le trois
ses prières et sa sincérité vous aurez rendu honteux, vous et moi.
et les chœurs continuèrent à chanter la Liberté.
La jeune Carol Robertson entra
et le chiffre que ses tueurs lui avait attribué était le quatre.
Elle demanda une bénédiction, en vain,
et les chœurs continuèrent à chanter la Liberté.
Ce dimanche à Birmingham un bruit fit trembler le sol,
tous les gens de la terre tournèrent leurs regards.
Personne n'avait jamais entendu un son si lâche,
et les choeurs continuèrent à chanter la Liberté.
Les hommes dans la forêt me demandèrent un jour,
combien de baies noires se développèrent dans la mer.
Je leur ai demandé alors avec une larme au fond de l'œil.
Combien y a -t-il de sombres navires dans la forêt?
Ce dimanche est venu et il est passé
et je ne peux pas faire plus que de vous chanter cette chanson.
Je la chanterai si doucement, qu'elle plaira à tous.
Et les chœurs continuèrent à chanter la Liberté.
inviata da Alessandro - 2/12/2009 - 21:09
O DOMINGO DE BIRMINGHAM
Venham a meu lado que lhes canto uma canção,
Vou cantá-la tão baixo que não faça mal a ninguém.
No domingo de Birmingham o sangue corria como vinho,
e os coros seguiam cantando liberdade.
Na fria manhã de outono os olhos não veram o sol
e Addie Mae Collin foi a primeira de todas.
Não era preciso acorrer a uma velha igreja Baptista,
e os coros seguiam cantando liberdade.
As nuvens eram cinzentas e sopravam os ventos de outono,
e Denise McNair levou o número a dois.
Foi assim que conheceram o abutre da morte,
e os coros seguiam cantando liberdade.
A igreja estava enchida mas ninguém não veu
que Cynthia Wesley tinha o número três.
Estava a rezar, haveria que ter vergonha,
e os coros seguiam cantando liberdade.
A jovem Carol Robertson passou o limiar da porta
e o número que os assassinos lhe deram era o quatro.
Ela pediu uma bênção, pois não pediu mais nada,
e os coros seguiam cantando liberdade.
No domingo de Birmingham um ruído sacudiu o chão
e toda a gente da terra virou os olhos à sua volta
que nunca se ouviu um ruído tão cobarde,
e os coros seguiam cantando liberdade.
Os homens da floresta pediram-me uma vez
quantos murtinhos cresciam no mar azul.
E eu, por minha vez, pedi-lhes chorando:
quantos barcos pretos há na floresta?
O domingo passou assim como veio,
não posso fazer muito mais que cantar-lhes uma canção.
Vou cantá-la tão baixo que não faça mal a ninguém,
e os coros seguiam cantando liberdade.
3/3/2014 - 18:16
Bernart Bartleby - 18/6/2015 - 09:46
Lyrics by Richard Fariña
Testo di Richard Fariña
Music: To the tune of the Scottish folksong I Loved A Lass
Musica: Sull'aria della canzone popolare scozzese I Loved A Lass
Album: Celebration For A Grey Day
Also performed by Joan Baez
Interpretata anche da Joan Baez
Alabama
Birmingham Sunday
Talking Birmingham Jam
The Ballad of Birmingham
We Are Alive
The Birmingham Massacre
Folk Archive
Illustration by the painter Nancy C.Preston
A few blocks away, but within sight of the church, a white man stood waiting on the sidewalk. He was Birmingham truck driver and one-time city employee Robert Edward Chambliss -- the man whom friends in the Eastview 13 Klavern of the Alabama Klan called Dynamite Bob.
At 10:19 A.M., fifteen sticks of explosive blew apart the church basement and the children in the changing room. The four who died were Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson, and Cynthia Wesley, all fourteen; and Denise McNair, eleven. Some twenty others were injured.
DIANE NASH: My former husband and I, Jim Bevel, cried when we heard about the bombing, because in many ways we felt like our own children had been killed. We knew that the activity of the civil rights movement had been involved in generating a kind of energy that brought out this kind of hostility. We decided that we would do something about it, and we said that we had two options. First, we felt confident that if we tried, we could find out who had done it, and we could make sure they got killed. We considered that as a real option. The second option was that we felt that if blacks in Alabama had the right to vote, they could protect black children. We deliberately made a choice, and chose the second option....
DAVID VANN: I was driving south on Nineteenth Street, which was two blocks from the church, and there on the corner stood Chambliss, a known Klansman, watching all of the commotion and excitement and fire trucks and things that were coming and going. I remember thinking that he looked like a firebug watching his fire.
Of course, several years later he was convicted of being a participant in the bombing. One of the main reasons it was a long time before he was brought to trial is the FBI was called in by the city to do the initial investigation, and there was such a distrust between the Birmingham Police Department and the FBI that the FBI and the Justice Department would never give any of the records to either the state of Alabama or the city of Birmingham. Having been a counterintelligence agent myself, I know the policy of protecting informants had a great deal to do with the FBI policy in those days. But it wasn't until after Jimmy Carter became president that the attorney general of the state, Bill Baxley, and I put all the pressure we could on the new U.S. attorney general, and they did agree to allow a review of those records by the state attorney general's office. Within about six months, prosecution was begun of Mr. Chambliss. Unfortunately, in the meantime, the FBI at least claimed that they had lost all of their records, and most of the physical evidence that the FBI collected at the scene that day was nowhere to be found.