Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,

I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,

In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.

Though I know that evenin’s empire has returned into sand,

Vanished from my hand,

Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping.

My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet,

I have no one to meet

And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,

I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,

In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship,

My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip,

My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels

To be wanderin’.

I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade

Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,

I promise to go under it.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,

I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,

In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.

Though you might hear laughin’, spinnin’, swingin’ madly across the sun,

It’s not aimed at anyone, it’s just escapin’ on the run

And but for the sky there are no fences facin’.

And if you hear vague traces of skippin’ reels of rhyme

To your tambourine in time, it’s just a ragged clown behind,

I wouldn’t pay it any mind, it’s just a shadow you’re

Seein’ that he’s chasing.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,

I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,

In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.

Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind,

Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,

The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,

Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,

Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,

With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,

Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,

I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,

In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.

Nogen vil indstille Bob Dylan til den litterære Nobel-pris. Og det har selvfølgelig allerede givet anledning til debat. Man fornemmer, at et af problemerne er, at Bob Dylan ikke er en digter af den gammeldags slags. Sådan en, der sidder på sin flade og skriver poesi med blyant, pen, skrivemaskine eller – hvis det går højt – elektronisk tekstbehandlingsanlæg.

Dylans tekster har altid været en del af hans musik. Jeg er sådan ligeglad med, om han får den pris eller ej, for Nobel-prisen i litteratur har altid været kontamineret af (kultur)politik. Mangen en god forfatter har været indstillet uden nogensinde at få den. Eksemplerne er legio. Er man i tvivl om Dylans format som digter, så køb hans samlede lyrik på engelsk (fås i paperback).

Mr. Tambourine Man er måske ikke Dylans bedste stykke poesi, men det er stadigvæk en af mine yndlings-Dylan-sange….