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.
Written by Hungarian Composer Reszo Seress three years ago, Gloomy Sunday droned along in comparative obscurity until last month. Then it began to make news aplenty. Budapest police, investigating the suicide of a shoemaker named Joseph Keller, found that Keller had left a note in which he quoted lyrics from Composer Seress' poignant Szomorú Vasárnap. Further...
