The Gloom that Came to (va)sárnap*—the study of a song

(*: With apologies to HPL. Vasárnap is the Hungarian for "Sunday".)

Yesterday, on a whim, I decided to have my player create a playlist of all the tracks I had containing the word "Sunday" in their title. Two discoveries emerged from this: 1) it doesn't make for the most "uplifting" of playlists; 2) I have many more versions of "Gloomy Sunday" than I realized. For the curious, the playlist:

---

Mark Lanegan, "Ugly Sunday"

Heather Nova, "Gloomy Sunday"

Johnny Cash, "Sunday Morning Coming Down"

Sarah McLachlan, "Gloomy Sunday" (live)

Broken Poets, "One Sunday"

Serge Gainsbourg, "Gloomy Sunday"

Colin Meloy, "Every Day is like Sunday" (Morrissey cover)

Lydia Lunch, "Gloomy Sunday"

Nick Cave, "Sunday's Slave"

Diamanda Galás, "Gloomy Sunday"

Juliana Hatfield, "Some Rainy Sunday"

Sinéad O'Connor, "Gloomy Sunday"

Mark Lanegan, "Little Bit of Rain"

Vlado Kreslin, "Gloomy Sunday"

Nick Cave, "Ain't gonna Rain Anymore"

Paul Whiteman, "Gloomy Sunday"

Tom Waits, "A Little Rain"

Kronos Quartet, "Gloomy Sunday"

Bess Rogers, "Sunday"

Björk, "Gloomy Sunday"

Morphine, "Sundayafternoonweightlessness"

Billie Holiday, "Gloomy Sunday"

Steven Stapleton and David Tibet, "Mothering Sunday (Legion Legion)"

---

[Yes, the observant among you will have noticed three tracks have been slipped in which don't include Sunday in the title. I had more "Gloomy Sunday" tracks than I had of the others, and not wanting to stack them together one after the other, I pulled a couple of other tracks out to pad out the list; though, trying to remain thematic, the additional tracks' theme spins off from the rain motif of the Hatfield track.]

Listening to that put me on a course contemplating the song and its (unfortunate) history. The original lyrics, you may notice, have nothing to do with Sunday, written instead as "Vége a világnak" ("The world has ended") by Rezsô Seress following a devastating breakup with his partner. They were originally as follows:

Osz van és peregnek a sárgult levelek Meghalt a földön az emberi szeretet Bánatos könnyekkel zokog az öszi szél Szívem már új tavaszt nem vár és nem remél Hiába sírok és hiába szenvedek Szívtelen rosszak és kapzsik az emberek... Meghalt a szeretet! Vége a világnak, vége a reménynek Városok pusztulnak, srapnelek zenélnek Emberek vérétol piros a tarka rét Halottak fekszenek az úton szerteszét Még egyszer elmondom csendben az imámat: Uram, az emberek gyarlók és hibáznak... Vége a világnak! — Seress, 1933.

It's Fall and fall the yellowed leaves as love leaves earth, all dead. As wailing, weep the Autumn winds, my heart expects no Spring again. But to no avail my misery, and my tears go all in vain, as people are heartless, greedy and fucked... Love has died! The world is finished, ended all expectation as cities are crushed and shrapnel sings, red-speckling the meadows with human blood. The dead in abundance litter the streets yet in silence I will offer this humble prayer:     "Lord, people are weak, they make mistakes..." The world has ended! (me, 07/09/30; corrections welcomed)

The couple would later reunite, though only briefly before she committed suicide, leaving behind a two word note: "Szomorú Vasárnap", "Gloomy Sunday". (Though that's the popularized title, "szomorú" can represent a broad range of meanings in English, from a simpler melancholy to despair and hopelessness.) A friend of Seress', the poet László Jávor, went on to write a verse under that title which matched the rhythm and music of the first, and it is his text which has formed the basis of most English versions of the song. Originally:

Szomorú vasárnap száz fehér virággal Vártalak kedvesem templomi imával Álmokat kergeto vasárnap délelott Bánatom hintaja nélküled visszajött Azóta szomorú mindig a vasárnap Könny csak az italom kenyerem a bánat... Szomorú vasárnap Utolsó vasárnap kedvesem gyere el Pap is lesz, koporsó, ravatal, gyászlepel Akkor is virág vár, virág és—koporsó Virágos fák alatt utam az utolsó Nyitva lesz szemem hogy még egyszer lássalak Ne félj a szememtol holtan is áldalak... Utolsó vasárnap —Jávor

On a dismal Sunday, with what white flowers I waited, my dear, praying for you, chasing my dreams. That Sunday morning my sorrows and coach returned without you. And every Sunday since is sadness— with but tears to drink and feeding on heartache. Dreadful Sunday. This final Sunday, my darling, come away; the cleric will come with coffin, bier and winding-sheet. There will be flowers for you then, flowers—and a coffin.     "Under flowering trees, I leave the last time.     My eyes will open for one last little look—     Don't fear them, even in death I am blessing you...     that last Sunday." (me, 07/10/01; as above, feel free to correct)

Typically, in the English editions these lyrics were modified to be more "positive"/"happy ending"-ish (the origin of pop music, according to Diamanda Galás), thus the "third" verse that will be familiar to most who know the song, the passage that reinterprets—and thus renders innocuous—the whole song as if it had been but a dream.

Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of ever returning you
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?

Gloomy Sunday

Gloomy is Sunday, with shadows I spend it all
My heart and I have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad I know
Let them not weep let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream for in death I'm caressing you
With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you

Gloomy Sunday

Dreaming, I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, here
Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you

Gloomy Sunday

In the several versions that appear in the above playlist, all but two use that text (though Lunch rightfully omits the fraudulent third verse). The English exception being (naturally) Diamanda Galás who chose to perform the more uncommon (though more faithful) translation of Desmond Carter:

Sadly one Sunday, I waited and waited
with flowers in my arms, for the grief I'd created.
I waited 'til dreams, like my heart, were all broken,
the flowers were all dead and the words were unspoken.
The grief that I knew was beyond all consoling,
the beat of my heart was a bell that was tolling...

saddest of Sundays.

Then came the Sunday when you came to find me—
they brought me to church and I left you behind me.
My eyes would not see one I wanted to love me...
    "The earth and the flowers are forever above me—
    the bell tolled for me and the wind whispered, 'Never!'
    but you I have loved and I'll bless you forever...

    last of all Sundays."

The other exception is Serge Gainsbourg, who performed the Marèze / Gonda French translation of Jávor's text, which is also thankfully* free of the English "happy ending", though Gainsbourg does sing the second verse twice to match the three verse structure. [*: No, of course I don't mean "thanfully" in that it has an unhappy ending, only thankfully in that it tries to be faithful to the source, instead of interpolating a verse that entirely changes the meaning and nature of the work.]

Sombre Dimanche, les bras tout chargés de fleurs
Je suis entré dans notre chambre le coeur las
Car je savais déjà que tu ne viendrais pas
Et j'ai chanté des mots d'amour et de douleur
Je suis resté tout seul et j'ai pleuré tout bas
En écoutant hurler la plainte des frimas

Sombre Dimanche

Je mourrai un dimanche où j'aurai trop souffert
Alors tu reviendras, mais je serai parti
Des cierges brûleront comme un ardent espoir
Et pour toi, sans effort, mes yeux seront ouverts
N'aie pas peur, mon amour, s'ils ne peuvent te voir
Ils te diront que je t'aimais plus que ma vie

Sombre Dimanche

Though she varies her lyrics slightly here from those used in the recording on my playlist, I was still delighted to find that someone's uploaded a video of Diamanda performing the piece:

As for Seress, he would go on to commit suicide by hurling himself from a window of his apartment on January 11, 1968; he was 68.