Triste Domingo
Abbey Lincoln
Sad Sunday
Sad Sunday, with a hundred white flowers
And the altar decked with my crazy dreams
Where my soul has gone to kneel
While my lips are calling for you
Dying in my dreams, sunsets of boredom
Tired of waiting and loneliness
Sad Sunday!
You don’t understand the terrible anguish
Of waiting for you, without seeing you arrive
Let your steps fly, I must leave!
Can’t you see I’m dying with this crazy desire?
I want you to be the white and merciful
Shroud that covers my final hour
Sad fate!
Dear one
Next to my coffin surrounded by many flowers
A priest awaits my confession
And to him I say:
I love him, I wait for him.
Don’t fear anything if you find my eyes
Lifeless and open, waiting for you
Your hands are the ones that should close them
And maybe then I’ll have died in peace
I hear the tolling of bells, that
Gloomily their voices command me to leave
Sad Sunday!
Fly my life, your dear steps
For the hour has come that I must depart!
I want to have you on my final journey
And something tells me you won’t arrive
Sad Sunday, visit me beloved
For now in my grave I will wait for you
I will wait!
