The Flame

by Leonard Cohen

  I change my dwelling places

  and change my haunts and

  wander from country to country,

  the little silence whose

  name is Abishag

  My mother’s holy hands

  are mending my shirt.

  Come to me or leave me waiting

  I don’t care no more

  I’ve waited like a month

  and I waited like a stone

  I’ve waited on a feather

  and I’ve waited on a storm

  I’ve waited like a mountain

  and I’ve waited like a door

  I’ve waited on the bridges

  that the rivers washed away

  I waited like a bridegroom

  with another man’s bouquet

  I waited for your beauty

  to be given to the rain

  I stood outside {beyond} my tears {sorrow}

  like a statue in the rain

  I folded {up} my heart

  and I cut it with your love

  a string of paper dolls

  I’m standing here

  in the blinding light

  I don’t know what to do

  my nakedness

  I’m standing here

  in the blinding light

  I’ve come to the end of the line

  & my nakedness cries out for you

  cries out like a drunk

  for his bottle of wine

  I’m standing here

  in the blinding light

  & I don’t know what to do

  the blinding light

  of what I lost

  when I walked away from you

  the blinding light

  when you’re stalled at night

  O baby forgive me

  the things that I did

  & forgive me the things

  that I said

  cries out like

  a man that is buried alive

  like a voice that cries

  out from the dead

  Forgive me what I did to you

  Forgive me what I said

  My heart & my soul

  & my nakedness

  cries out to be comforted

  cries out like a man

  who’s been buried alive

  cries out like a voice

  from the dead

  so let’s not tear the past apart

  we shared the darkness

  from the start

  I’m an evil son of a bitch

  I was born in the heart of the bible

  & I know the holy pitch

  I could sell an angel paper wings

  I’m an evil son of a bitch

  Not for all the jasmine

  in Moscow

  not for all the singing

  in New York

  not for all the broken hearts

  in Bloomingdale’s

  not for all the telephones

  in Long Island

  not for all the blue

  in Istanbul

  not for all the shoes

  in Bloomingdale’s

  not for all the rags

  in Lebanon

  not for all the wax

  in Notre-Dame

  not for all the books

  in Jerusalem

  not for all the glass ice

  in a summer

  ***

  you’re standing tall

  you’re hanging tough

  but I know you’re feeling bad

  It’s easy to see

  that a good woman’s love

  is something that you never had

  so I’m gonna take pity on the boy tonight

  I’m gonna do you a favour gonna do it right

  I’m gonna see that you’re fed

  I’m gonna put you to bed

  & then I’m gonna drive you mad

  ***

  I don’t know who you’re looking at

  It must be someone else

  I’m only here a minute

  then I go somewhere else

  I’m talking to myself

  I’m living {visiting} at the clinic

  just talking to myself

  I’m only here a minute

  then I go somewhere else

  do not cry “heal me lord”

  the lord is broken

  heal the lord

  so come my children

  and confess

  when we are more

  the lord is less

  I just can’t pretend no more

  that I’m your loving man

  I just can’t pretend no more

  that I really give a damn

  It’s just too hard to make you smile

  and too dangerous to bring you down

  You got love

  you got sex

  you got nothing to lose

  you got death

  in your mind

  like a root

  you got stuff

  it’s a mess

  you got no one to choose

  you got breasts

  on your chest

  you’re a brute

  I never went back

  I never came home

  I waited all night

  for you to come home

  or someone like you

  I couldn’t keep touch

  I don’t know about tomorrow

  but I know what’s coming next

  I was broken when I met you

  I was broken when I left

  I couldn’t do it living

  but I love you with

  my dying breath

  I came here for the healing

  How about you?

  The god of love is broken

  the god of hatred too

  Every time I touched you

  My oh My oh My

  That night you let me touch you

  I thought that I would die

  i wasn’t really sure

  i was allowed in there

  but i thought the rules

  were somewhat ambiguous

  and if discovered

  i could justify my presence

  there was a narrow camp bed

  close to the door

  with fresh sheets

  and a light blanket

  I snuggled into

  the bed and began to listen

  intently to the confession

  the young woman was

  making to her therapist

  I don’t remember what she was

  saying but she stopped

  abruptly and said:

  “Leonard Cohen is listening

  to us”

  It was night & it was raining

  and the pizza never came

  I’m troubled by war

  I’m troubled by peace

  Can’t they think of anything else

  ***

  I am a souvenir of creation

  The ringed wife is a souvenir

  of first dip in the private morning

  pool when you sank like a

  fish hook through the layered

  mirrors of self-love

  O God change your name

  in my heart

  but the chairs

  once with straw now

  with yellow red plastic

  woven

  the new Blue Tops of

  outdoor tin tables

  Fresh Paint!

  Not today

  I knelt in that certainty

  ***

  and you put your baby

  number nothing

  on the waiting list

  and long nights alone

  with the angels of the Lord

  I put the books of love aside

  the young dancers

  who have never

  thought about death

  and the older ones who have

  to lie once more

  in the proud arms of one

  who has never thought

  about
death

  I look out at the hillside

  all silver and silent

  its beauty is signed in the air

  Then night comes a stealing

  the shapes of our feeling

  the whole world is melting in fire

  I’m there, I’m finally there

  ***

  like David bent down

  in the darkness of love

  I call out your name

  and I ask to be done

  with this burden of heart

  with this pride of despair

  with this shame

  that the heart cannot {bear}

  to the realms of despair

  like David bent down

  on his bed of all despair

  I come to you now

  I call out your name

  I ask to be done

  with this darkness of love

  with this burden of heart

  with this shame

  that the heart cannot bear

  like David bent down

  in the darkness of his love

  I call to you now

  {from} the place of despair

  I call on your name

  & I ask to be done

  with the burden of heart

  like David bent down

  to the darkness of his love

  with his kingdom of dust

  with his crown of despair

  with no hope from the night

  with no word for his prayer

  like David bent down

  in the realms of despair

  with no hope from the night

  with no word for his prayer

  he comes to you now

  he calls on your name

  he asks to be done

  with the darkness of love

  with his burden of heart

  with his shame

  from both sides of the battleground

  from liberty from love

  like David bent down

  to the darkness of his love

  with no river below

  and no light from above

  and he cries out your name

  from the place of despair

  for the burden of heart

  {from his high}

  {heavy chain}

  that he cannot repair

  for the burden of shame {heart}

  which is there, which is there

  {for the darkness of love}

  for the shame

  which his {the} heart

  cannot bear

  like David bent down

  in the darkness of love

  with no kingdom or crown

  & no light from above

  & he cries out your name

  from the place of despair

  for the burden of shame

  which he cannot repair

  & he cries out your name

  with no heart for the prayer

  for the burden of shame

  in the place of despair

  for the burden of heart

  which is there, which is there

  for the shame

  that the heart cannot bear

  I am the light of

  my generation

  and the radio

  and the refrigerator

  with no kingdom below

  & no crown from above

  and he cries out your name

  from the place of despair

  for the darkness of heart

  which he cannot repair

  beyond all repair

  for the burden of shame

  which is there, which is there

  for the shame which the heart

  cannot bear

  look see how he wakes

  hear how he speaks

  & he tries to raise his hands to the lord

  the world begins to wait for thee

  I have it deep inside of me

  like uncreated angels see

  the absence of eternity

  the world begins to wait for thee

  I have it deep inside of me

  a longing that could only be

  the absence of eternity

  like David bent down

  in the darkness of shame

  I come to you now

  I cry out your name

  with no hope for the day

  with no heart for the prayer

  Renew the name that

  sorrow has forgotten

  Speak again

  and raise creation up

  Renew the name

  & stand your singer up

  and a painful silence mock

  all the parliament of thought

  I don’t want to be here

  anymore

  and the silence gathered

  round to mock

  all the parliament of thought

  Find me here

  I can’t cry out

  I have no word

  And in this place

  was never heard

  In the absence of

  human actions fail & rot

  around the parliament of thought

  Pretending to stand

  like a man in the place

  where there is no light

  and there is no face

  If I speak to you, if I try,

  one word, one breath at a time;

  if I listen between the words,

  if I go slowly,

  will you come to this place

  you have cleaved for my

  doubting

  If I try to speak

  I beg you to come to this place

  I beg you

  with all the ugliness at my disposal

  I offer this headache

  and my accomplice dream women

  I beg you with the headache

  in my right eye

  I beg you with the fly

  that has chosen my lips

  to fertilize

  I beg you with the interesting news

  of manure & unemployment

  what are you keeping there,

  what have you hidden away

  that is so precious to the

  darkness; so heavily guarded,

  so furtively {defiantly} held,

  now furtively, now defiantly

  held; your power magic,

  your heavy-machine, to

  your axioms of strategy

  iron mask

  your victory

  your victory, your

  supremacy, preening

  itself in a basin of vomit,

  waiting, waiting until

  you say, now

  your victory creature,

  chained to the coming

  opportunity, preening

  itself in a basin of

  vomit, waiting to spring,

  waiting until they turn

  their backs, and you say,

  now!

  Chained to your secret place

  feeding on the spirit carrion,

  they wait to be unleashed

  I heard them singing

  just the other day

  pouring out their hearts

  in wild dismay

  their voices sweet with

  what they could not say

  the song of Ages on their

  lips of clay

  The beasts go roaming free

  Come my love, my holy one

  enter on the carpet of my longing

  Baby, don’t be sad

  the dust is all my doing

  The wind and the umbrellas

  come from stores

  the flags from the nation

  but your absence comes

  from a terrible sleep

  under a huge museum

  Enter the moth holes

  of my longing

  ***

  I had a plan

  I was moving away

  Far from the failure

  and stress every day

  ***

>   May 2, 2011

  1995[?]

  the Great Convulsion

  coming

  we’re nothing like the ant hill

  we’re not a hive of bees

  Behold! the good ship

  “Free Will”

  as she’s tossed on mighty seas

  mighty seas

  you can always depend

  on me

  I’m going to come down

  on the side of mercy

  I’m going to come down

  on the side of love

  The Great Convulsion

  coming

  I’m going to run like hell

  from the general terror

  and hide like a bell

  in the panic

  I’m going to run like hell

  from the usual

  Titanic

  & hide like a bell

  in the general panic

  ***

  Where are your friends

  my darling

  wait they’ll be coming thru

  my friends are back there

  dancing

  That’s what I like to see them do

  I thought I heard them

  weeping

  just before the rain

  you might have heard them

  weeping

  but they’re dancing once again

  What are the ladies wearing

  back there on the floor

  the old forbidden clothing

  that the Emperor once wore

  Can’t we go back my darling

  I’ve been away too long

  Why did you leave us dancing

  in the middle of the song

  I thought the dance was over

  when all the rain came down

  then you must die my darling

  on the other side of town

  I like the other side of town

  It has a perfect view

  ***

  In this writing

  we do not look out the window

  we do not wait

  for the Swedish girl

  to walk down the aisle

  and we do not think about

  her faded gold face

  which is her nakedness

  we do not speculate

  on the superior style

  and the origin

  of his old sun clothes

  ***

  I was talking to Ron

  when the women were gone

  and the men were out killing for love

  we were touring the north

  with the songs of my youth

  for the last time. Enough is enough

  Dear Hatred

  Dear Heart-Broken Olivia

  in the Xenias Melathron

  eating an apple

  forever on my Grecian urn

  Dear Princess Zina

  I shaved my head for you

  Now you send me printed letters

  asking me to buy you a monastery

  Dear Accident Helga

  of my sunstroke at noon

  later the dog-like companion

  of fork-bearded Sascha

  cool candlelight of ignitable icicles

  in your cheeks and eyes

  nothing at all between us

  except my kneeling for you now

  I gave all my money

  to charity

  I gave all my clothes

  to the poor

  I followed after one

  who was saving me