The Velvet Underground "The Gift" lyrics

Translation to:itsr

The Gift

Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit.It was now mid-August which meant that he had been separated from Marsha for more than two months.Two months, and all he had to show were three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone calls.True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin and he to Locust, Pennsylvania she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity.She would date occasionally, but merely as amusement.She would remain faithful. But lately Waldo had begun to worry.He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams.He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his printed quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes,As he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothings of some Neanderthal,Finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. It was more than the human mind could bear.

Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him.Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts.And the thing was, they wouldn't understand who she really was.He, Waldo, alone, understood this.He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche.He had made her smile, and she needed him, and he wasn't there. (Awww.)The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers Parade was scheduled to appear.He had just finished mowing and edging the Edelsons lawn for a dollar-fiftyAnd had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha.There was nothing more than a circular form the Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awning needs.At least they cared enough to write.

It was a New York company. You could go anywhere inthe mails. Then it struck him: he didn't have enoughmoney to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion,true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdlysimple. He would ship himself parcel post specialdelivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarketto purchase the necessary equipment. He boughtmasking tape, a staple gun and a medium sizedcardboard box, just right for a person of his build.He judged that with a minimum of jostling he couldride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, aselection of midnight snacks, and it would probably beas good as going tourist.

By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughlypacked and the post office had agreed to pick him upat three o'clock. He'd marked the package "FRAGILE"and as he sat curled up inside, resting in the foamrubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he triedto picture the look of awe and happiness on Marsha'sface as she opened the door, saw the package, tippedthe deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldofinally there in person. She would kiss him, and thenmaybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought ofthis before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his packageand he felt himself borne up. He landed with a thudin a truck and then he was off.

Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. Ithad been a very rough weekend. She had to remembernot to drink like that. Bill had been nice about itthough. After it was over he'd said that he stillrespected her and, after all, it was certainly the wayof nature and even though no, he didn't love her, hedid feel an affection for her. And after all, theywere grown adults. Oh, what Bill could teach Waldo --but that seemed many years ago. Sheila Klein, hervery, very best friend walked in through the porchscreen door into the kitchen. "Oh God, it'sabsolutely maudlin outside.""Ugh, I know what you mean, I feel all icky." Marshatightened the belt on her cotton robe with the silkouter edge. Sheila ran her finger over some saltgrains on the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face."I'm supposed to be taking these salt pills, but," shewrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like throwing up."Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, anexercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't eventalk about that." She got up from the table and wentto the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink andblue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better thansteak." And attempted to touch her knees. "I don'tthink I'll ever touch a daiquiri again." She gave upand sat down, this time nearer the small table thatsupported the telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call," shesaid to Sheila's glance.Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, Ithought maybe you'd be through with him.""I know what you mean. My God, he was like anoctopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured,raising her arms upward in defense. "The thing isafter a while, you get tired of fighting with him, youknow, and after all he didn't really do anythingFriday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him, youknow what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheilawas giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tellyou, I felt the same way, and even after a while," shebent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to," and now shewas laughing very loudly.

It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the ClarenceDarrow Post Office rang the door bell of the largestucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronsonopened the door, he helped her carry the package in.He had his yellow and his green slips of paper signedand left with a fifteen-cent tip that Marsha hadgotten out of her mothers small beige pocket book inthe den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked.Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat inthe middle of the living room. "I don't know."

Inside the package Waldo quivered with excitement ashe listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran herfingernail over the masking tape that ran down thecenter of the carton. "Why don't you look at thereturn address and see who it is from?" Waldo felthis heart beating. He could feel the vibratingfootsteps. It would be soon.

Marsha walked around the carton and read theink-scratched label. "Ugh, God, it's from Waldo!""That schmuck," said Sheila. Waldo trembled withexpectation. "Well, you might as well open it," saidSheila. Both of them tried to lift the stapled flap.

"Ahh, shit," said Marsha groaning. "He must havenailed it shut." They tugged at the flap again. "MyGod, you need a power drill to get this thing opened."They pulled again. "You can't get a grip!" Theyboth stood still, breathing heavily."Why don't you get the scissors," said Sheila. Marsharan into the kitchen, but all she could find was alittle sewing scissor. Then she remembered that herfather kept a collection of tools in the basement.She ran downstairs and when she came back, she had alarge sheet-metal cutter in her hand."This is the best I could find." She was very out ofbreath. "Here, you do it. I'm gonna die." She sankinto a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily.Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tapeand the end of the cardboard, but the blade was toobig and there wasn't enough room. "Godamn thisthing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then,smiling, "I got an idea.""What?" said Marsha."Just watch," said Sheila touching her finger to her head.

Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed withexcitement that he could barely breathe. His skinfelt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heartbeating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheilastood quite upright and walked around to the otherside of the package. Then she sank down to her knees,grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breathand plunged the long blade through the middle of thepackage, through the middle of the masking tape,through the cardboard, through the cushioning and(thud) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head,which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcsof red to pulsate gently in the morning sun.

Poklon

Valdo Džefers je bio na ivici.Bila je sredina avgusta što je značiloda se pre više od dva meseca rastao od Marše.Dva meseca a sve čime je mogao da se pohvali bila su tri pisma sa magarećim ušimai dva preskupa međugradska telefonska poziva.Istina, kad se škola završila a ona se vratila Viskonsina on u Lokast, Pensilvanija, zaklela se na izvesnu vernost.Povremeno će izlaziti s drugima, ali čisto iz zabave.Ostaće verna. Ali, u poslednje vreme je Valdo počeo da brine.Noću nije mogao da spava, a kad je spavao, imao je užasne snove.Noću je ležao budan, vrteći se i prevrćući se ispod svogšarenog jorgana, suze su mu tekle niz obraze,Dok je zamišljao Maršu, njena obećanja nadvladana alkoholomi umirivanjem nekog neandertalca,kako se na kraju predaje krajnjim milovanjima seksualnog zaborava.To je bilo više nego što ljudski mozak može da podnese.

Vizije Maršinog neverstva progonile su ga.Vizije seksualne napuštenosti prožimale su njegove misli.A stvar je bila u tome što oni ne bi razumeli kakva je ona u stvari.On, Valdo, i niko drugi, razumeo je to.On je intuitivno pojmio svaki kutak i pukotinu njene psihe.On ju je nasmejavao i bio joj je potreban, a nije bio uz nju.To mu je sinulo u četvrtak, pre nego što je zakazana parada pantomimičara.Tek što je završio košenje i orezivanje travnjaka kod Edelsona, za dolar i poI proverio sanduče da vidi da li je stiglo bar nešto od Marše.U njemu nije bilo ničega sem cirkularnog pisma u kojem se Američka fabrikaaluminijuma raspitivala da li mu treba nadstrešnica.Bar je njima bilo dovoljno stalo da pošalju pismo.

To je bila njujorška kompanija. Poštom možešsvuda. A onda mu je sinulo: nije imao dovoljnonovca da ode do Viskonsina na prihvatljivi način,istina, ali, zašto ne bi sebe poslao poštom? To je bilo apsurdnojednostavno. Otpremio bi sebe kao paket, brzompoštom. Narednog dana Valdo je otišao u supermarketda kupi neophodnu opremu. Kupio je samolepljivutraku, heftalicu, i jednu kartonsku kutijusrednje veličine, taman dovoljno veliku za nekoga njegove građe.Procenio je da uz minimalno tumbanje možeda putuje dosta udobno. Nekoliko rupa za vazduh, nešto vodeOdabrane večernje grickalice, i verovatno će bitijednako dobro kao da putuje turistički.

Do petka popodne, Valdo je bio spreman. Bio je kompletnospakovan i pošta se složila da ga pokupiu tri sata. Označio je paket sa “LOMLJIVO”i dok je u njemu sedeo sklupčan, oslonjen naoblogu od penaste gume koju je mudro postavio, pokušaoje da zamisli odraz strahopoštovanja i sreće na Maršinomlicu kad otvori vrata, vidi paket, da bakšišraznosaču, i onda ga otvori videvši da je njen Valdonapokon lično tu. Poljubila bi ga, a ondabi možda mogli pogledati neki film. Da se samo togaranije setio. Iznenada, neke grube ruke zgrabiše njegov paketi osetio je kako ga nose naviše. Uz tup udarac, spustišega na kamion i onda je krenuo.

Marša Bronson je taman završila nameštanje kose. Bioje to veoma naporan vikend. Trebalo bi da vodi računada ne pije toliko. Mada, Bil je bio finu vezi toga. Kad je sve prošlo, rekao je da je i daljepoštuje i da je, nakon svega, sve to sasvimnormalno i da mu je draga, iako je ne voli. I u svakom slučaju,oboje su odrasli. Oh, šta bi sve Bil mogao da nauči Valda —ali činilo se kao da je to bilo pre mnogo godina. Šila Klajn, njenanaj najbolja drugarica ušla je kroz letnjavrata u kuhinju. “O Bože, vreme ježivi smor.”“Uh, razumem te, ja sam sva nikakva.” Maršaje zategla kaiš na svom pamučnom bademantilu sasvilenim rubom. Šila je prešla prstom preko zrnasoli na kuhinjskom stolu, polizala prst i složila facu.“Treba da pijem neke tablete soli, ali,” naboralaje nos, “od njih mi se povraća.”Marša je počela da se lupka po bradi, to je nekavežba koju je videla na televiziji. “Bože, nespominji mi to.” Ustala je od stola i otišlado sudopere gde je uzela bočicu sa pink iplavim vitaminima. “Hoćeš jednu? Kažu da su bolji odbifteka.” i pokušala da dodirne kolena. “Sumnjamda ću ikad više pipnuti daiquiri.” Odustala jei sela dole, ovog puta bliže stoliću satelefonom. “Možda će Bil zvati,” rekla jekad ju je Šila pogledala.Šila je grickala zanokticu. “Nakon sinoćnih dešavanja,mislila sam da ćeš možda raskinuti s njim.”“Znam na šta misliš. O moj bože, bio je kaooktopod. Ruke na sve strane.” Gestikulirala jepodižući ruke prema gore u odbrani. “Stvar je u tomešto se nakon nekog vremena umoriš od svađanja sa njim,znaš, a na kraju krajeva, u petak i subotu nijeništa radio, pa sam mu to nekako dugovala, znašna šta mislim.” Počela je da se češka. Šilase kikotala sa rukom preko usta. “Da ti kažemnešto, i ja sam isto mislila, i nakon nekog vremena,”nagnula se napred šapućući, “sam poželela,” i tad seveć glasno smejala.

U tom trenutku, g. Džejmeson iz KlarensDerov pošte zazvoni na vratima velikenamalterisane drvene kuće. Kad je Marša Bronsonotvorila vrata, pomogao joj je da unese paket.Dobio je potpise na svojim žutim i zelenim papirićimai otišao sa bakšišom od petnaest centi koje je Maršauzela iz male bež džepne knjižice svoje majke ućumezu. “Šta misliš šta je to?” pitala je Šila.Marša je stojala sa rukama iza leđa.Zurila je u smeđu kartonsku kutiju koja je stajala nasreddnevne sobe. “Ne znam.”

Unutar paketa, Valdo je treperio od uzbuđenja dokje slušao prigušene glasove. Šila je povuklanoktom po selotepu zalepljenim posredini kutije. “Što ne pogledašadresu pošiljaoca da vidiš od koga je?” Valdo je osetiokako mu srce lupa. Mogao je da oseti vibriranjekoraka. Još malo.

Marša je obišla karton i pročitalanalepnicu ispisanu mastilom. “Uf, Bože, od Valda je!”“Taj šmokljan,” reče Šila. Valdo je zatreptao odiščekivanja. “Pa, mogla bi i da ga otvoriš,” rečeŠila. Obe su pokušale da podignu zaheftani poklopac.

“Ahh, sranje,” reče Marša stenjući. “Mora da gaje zakucao.” Ponovo su teglile poklopac. “Božemoj, treba ti bušilica da ovo otvoriš.”Ponovo su povukle. “Nemaš za šta da ga uhvatiš!” Obesu stojale mirno, teško dišući.“Što ne uzmeš makaze,” reče Šila. Maršaje otrčala u kuhinju ali sve što je uspela da nađe bile su jednemale krojačke makazice. Onda se setila da njen otacima set alata u podrumu.Otrčala je niz stepenice a vratila se savelikim sekačem za lim u rukama.“Ovo je najbolje što sam našla.” Bila je popriličnobez daha. “Evo, ti to uradi. Ja ću umreti.” Zavalilase na veliki mekani kauč i glasno izdahnula.Šila je pokušala da npravi prorez između selotep trakei ivice kartona, ali oštrica je bila prevelikai nije bilo dosta mesta. “Prokletastvar!” rekla je ogorčeno. A onda,sa osmehom, “Imam ideju.”“Kakvu?” reče Marša.“Samo gledaj,” reče Šila dodirujući prstom glavu.

Unutar paketa, Valdo je bio toliko paralisanod uzbuđenja da je jedva disao. Koža gaje peckala od vrućine i imao je osećaj kaoda mu srce kuca u grlu. Još malo. Šilaje stajala poprilično uspravno pa prešla na drugustranu paketa. Onda se spustila na kolena,uhvatila sekač za obe ručke, duboko udahnulai zarila dugu oštricu kroz sredinupaketa, kroz sredinu selotepa,kroz karton, kroz penastu gumu i(tup) pravo kroz glavu Valda Džefersa,koja se blago rasporila i mali ritmički lukovicrvenila nežno zapulsiraše na jutarnjem suncu.

Here one can find the lyrics of the song The Gift by The Velvet Underground. Or The Gift poem lyrics. The Velvet Underground The Gift text.