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The Flame

Page 9

by Leonard Cohen


  they’re my heart

  I can talk about the weather

  I don’t think it’s going to rain

  but if you ask me how I am:

  I can’t complain

  You can say

  it’s all been written

  but I cannot read the text

  It’s love alone distracts me

  from one moment to the next

  I’d never seen the day so new

  the green so green, the blue so blue

  and all you lost was

  only to renew you

  I tried to make a joyful now

  Surely the ocean will part her lips

  for the widow watching

  Surely the nighttime

  will yield another song

  Surely the ocean

  will let the men undrown

  Surely the widow

  will give another chance

  to the widow who’s been

  watching all the ships

  Surely the morning light

  will let the man return

  and the wolf go back

  to moonlight

  Surely the moonlight

  will hold another face

  The heart of love is covered up

  & the heart of labour too

  There’s no one else

  There’s nothing else

  can move the dust but you

  all the bad examples of my uncles

  and my friends

  still I could not fight it

  or wrong or even right it

  I didn’t even know

  what I’d done

  Now Bobby left his body

  in a Hong Kong Hotel

  He never even told us where

  to find it

  I was looking for the needle

  I was looking high & low

  for the needle that I used to sew

  my coat of many colours long ago

  that I lost so long ago

  I’ve been waiting

  many years now

  for a climate

  such as this

  for the cold to

  be so clear now

  that nobody even

  talks about the spring

  Here comes the morning boat

  here comes the evening train

  here comes Marianne now

  to say goodbye again

  ***

  Athens Inter, C. July 30

  a dream a couple of nights ago

  a fierce god came thru the door

  almost broke down the door

  my house was a frail affair

  ***

  Sept 17, 2008

  you who have fallen

  beneath all contempt

  whose {your} pockets are {full swollen}

  but you’re living in debt

  and dead to the culture

  that murdered your {heart} pride

  you pick through the scriptures

  for somewhere to hide

  ***

  Oct 16

  There was so little to say

  All my prophecies

  were coming true

  I was old

  My work was done

  Then you began

  to undress for me

  on Skype

  And I had to think

  about my life again

  It was a good hotel

  Thick double curtain

  sealed the room in darkness

  any time of the day

  I lay on my {the} bed

  in my free time

  thinking of her {you}

  as if {I was} meditating

  ***

  Geneva dressing rm. Oct 26 2008

  a few nights ago

  in a dream

  you said: “Come along

  to the sunny beach”

  I thought you meant

  “just you and me”

  but it turned out

  you were with a handsome young man

  named Coran

  and I was, as you said,

  welcome to “come along”

  and that was that

  ***

  Dream Brighton Nov 28[?]

  Tom Waits singing—I hear him

  I’m in a theatre—I’ve given

  a show to a large audience

  My show went well—I can’t

  see him—I’m in my dressing

  room—but I can hear him—

  his music begin—it is so

  beautiful and original and

  sophisticated—so much better

  than mine—some mélange

  of harshness and sweetness—

  modern and sentimental all

  at once—even Kitsch used

  so skillfully—I wish I

  could do that—then he

  starts to sing—so great—

  I go down to hear him—

  expecting a great

  adoring crowd—but

  he’s singing in a half full

  small theatre—a kind

  of afterthought of a

  theatre—we leave together

  he puts his arm around

  my shoulder—he looks

  good—a bit beat up—

  a bit older—but in full

  possession of himself

  ***

  I gave you my children

  you said they were starving

  and I gave you my knife

  and the meat I was carving

  Once I sang the ancient

  now I sing the old

  once I sang the sacrament

  now I sing the mould

  Old people roll their stockings up

  while sitting on their beds

  I need them on my mountain

  I need their empty heads

  Last year you dreamed

  this year you killed

  and now you are the ruler

  of the kingdom that you willed

  your love has traveled to the towns

  you wanted her to leave for

  and since you sent her there yourself

  there’s nothing left to grieve for

  and, lovers of the future,

  I know what I have done

  I’m looking in the mirror

  of the gun machine

  yes baby

  you’re the queen of hearts.

  You took my ring

  and threw it in the garbage

  I’ve been looking thru

  the garbage ever since

  if you find yourself

  beside the city dump sometime

  you’ll find it covered

  with my fingerprints

  Your black suit

  gleaming in my eye

  like licorice

  When you have broken down

  you’ll find me then

  you’ll find me on my knees

  Fifth Avenue was an Indian path

  & all of this was trees

  Is this the way you wanted it

  Did you choose to fall like this

  with so little majesty

  Rest here a little, pilgrim

  I’ve been where it is summer

  The crystals in your hair reveal

  your road goes through the winter

  the scratches on her movie

  like rain that children draw

  smiling to herself for herself

  her own histories

  her own grandmother

  remembering the incorruptible

  formula of her mouth

  in nineteen sixty seven

  You took my love

  and left it in the trash can

  I’ve been looking thru

  the orange peels ever since

  If some time you happen

  by the city dump

  You’ll find it covered

  with my fingerprints

  ***

  Saturday Morning

  and the lea
ves are shining

  and my small disease

  is climbing the knob

  Saturday Morning

  and the ruins of Moscow

  and the dark cement

  is getting my job

  Saturday Morning

  and I’m sitting at the table

  where I wrote

  The Tower of Song

  Saturday Morning

  and I got nothing going

  nothing going

  nothing is wrong

  All my secrets

  I’ve told to the pillow

  like a teenage girl

  in a Motown song

  And I’m burning

  I’m burning to follow

  my secrets

  to the City of Death

  on the outskirts of town

  Saturday Morning

  what was I saying

  before the birds

  interrupted my thought

  I was thinking

  of a room in Westminster

  room

  with a woman from Hell

  who thought she was hot

  Saturday Morning

  how long can I {you} wait

  when it’s clear that

  you’re serving your terror

  and you’re loving

  all that you hate.

  Saturday Morning

  in the wonderful window

  where the palm trees

  tickle the wind

  Saturday Morning

  don’t give up your courage

  just breathe

  and the worst will be over

  but look it’s coming again

  I’m writing in the book that

  you gave me

  I’m so happy that we never

  made love

  ***

  I’ve driven a pin through your footprint

  to make you stumble and swoon

  I’ve covered it all with a detail

  from somebody’s old honeymoon

  Nobody calls you who calls you

  Nobody calls you but me

  Nobody wants you who wants you

  Nobody wants you but me

  I’m lost in a shell with the ocean

  I’m locked in an old honeymoon

  You’ve driven a pin through my footprint

  You’ve come after me with a tune

  I’ve driven a shell through the ocean

  I’m locked in an old honeymoon

  I left some rain in your footprint

  You gave me the words & the tune

  lost in a spell that I started

  to turn myself into a bone

  locked in a room with the details

  of somebody’s old honeymoon

  Lost in a spell that I started to

  turn myself into a bone

  you know that I’m just one of many

  I hope you don’t think I’m alone

  Nobody wants you who wants you

  Nobody wants you but me

  The moon is after you, darling

  It’s wandered away from the sea

  ***

  And O my heart

  my lonely heart

  how sweet

  how sweet you sing

  I knew that you

  were lying

  but I never

  called you on it.

  I told my brother

  what I heard

  and he began to weep

  I told my sister who whispered

  “hush the baby is asleep”

  I told the angels of the Lord,

  they covered me with light

  I told my heart, my heart did say:

  “Be still with me tonight.”

  ***

  Oct 10, 2005

  leave me out of all your histories

  that’s okay with me

  I am as patient as the climate

  I change when I am told

  Thank you for

  your gracious hospitality

  my heart is light

  when I recall the years

  we have been together

  as if you ever thought

  that you were some kind

  of a teacher

  when did that stupid idea

  take root?

  when you had no other way

  to reach her?

  ***

  Campanile Nov 1, 2005

  I just came back to say goodbye

  It’s true, it’s true, we won

  The bodies piled up tidal high

  It wasn’t that much fun

  Been raining almost every day

  We came here for the sun

  We had that earthquake in L.A.

  It wasn’t that much fun

  ***

  Nov 6, 2005

  I was second to none

  but I was never best

  I was old and broke

  so l could not rest

  You can call it luck

  be it good or bad

  but you don’t give up

  when your heart is dead

  it had to make you crazy

  when you no longer had the money

  or the youth

  to bribe the referee

  ***

  Soho Metro April 8, 2006

  Toronto

  can’t even tie your shoe

  I look away

  and cry for you

  a mouse

  with two matchsticks

  and a bottle cap

  is the drummer

  for me

  singing by myself

  all morning

  singing to myself

  about Vanessa

  I kissed you {once} hard

  as if I were young

  and you were so kind

  to pretend that I was

  and always that room

  that window so wide

  there was nothing beyond it

  & no one inside

  the story’s been written

  it’s signed & it’s sealed

  you gave me a lily

  but now it’s a field

  I don’t know what happened

  but who could have guessed

  you’d leave us all hanging

  that night that you left

  Why didn’t you tell me

  that you had to leave

  O noble departure

  in silence and grief

  ***

  May 27, 2006

  and with me still

  my darling friend

  whose lips the decades

  won’t amend

  my comfort in

  the coming dusk

  where hands can’t feel

  but memory must

  my comfort in

  the rising dust

  where hands can’t

  so memory must

  where flesh can’t do

  what memory must

  the thrill of skin

  in memory’s trust

  and even here

  and even now

  I can’t regret

  I don’t know how

  where lips can’t drink

  so memory must

  your will to live

  was too intense

  you cut it down

  it made no sense

  when life betrayed you

  with a yawn

  you cut it down

  lest it go on

  I can’t look back

  or I will fall

  time’s good trick

  reverse it all

  lest suffering {torture} wear

  its hideous grin

  and bodies tear

  and boredom wins

  you cut away

  the rotting wood

  as any careful

  gardener should

  you kept your word

  your deep concern

  the winter’s cold

  the wood won’t burn

 
you kept your word

  your deep concern

  fuck this valley

  fuck this hill

  where nothing works

  and nothing will

  fuck the bed

  we lay upon

  where nothing turned

  my body on

  baby you been gone a long time now

  but you come to me in moments of unrest

  and you hold my heart against

  your burning lips

  and you tell me that my love

  has passed the test

  You never really

  beat me up

  but now and then

  you threatened

  you were six foot two

  and some

  and I was five foot

  seven

  ***

  gonna live awhile

  before I die

  very peaceful

  in the MRI

  The moon is full tonight

  if only we could see it

  and the garden

  filled with fragrance

  if only we could

  breathe it

  Every time I try to speak

  It just doesn’t come out right

  Everything I try to say

  it just sounds something like

  that you were gone forever

  and by your own dear hand

  ***

  when I studied with the serpent

  and sang confession to the trees

  trying many sacraments from any hand

  finding teachers anywhere

  in all disguises insisting that I listen

  to their daily talk

  for the mystery it must disclose

  and be left standing while

  everyone else got high

  The waitress came from Newfoundland

  She said she knew the sea

  I took her on a lonesome trip

  until she cut me free

  O darling you’re waiting

  for somebody’s child

  and once he was free

  but now he is wild

  And now that you’re planning

  to follow the sun

  like a shadow of birds

  or a crook on the run

  you’re travelling too light

  for the seas you must swim

  your thoughts are too deep

  and your smile is too grim

  You’ve broken the promise

  you said in the barn

  when you worried all night

  while the killers were born

  and your father did laugh

  as he poured you some wine

  then you shut the big doors

  and lay down with the blind

  You’ve broken the promise

  you swore through your teeth

  when you saw the words end

  and the photographs weep

  and nobody blames you

  as the train pulls away

  with its cargo of snow

  for those glass paperweights

  You’ve broken the promise

  you said you would keep

  but the paragraphs end

  and the pictures still weep

  like the sound of a storm

  in a round paperweight

  & nobody blames you

  as the train pulls away

  with the sound of a storm

  in a round paperweight

  ***

  after the poem

  a little quieter

 

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