Leonard Cohen + Loreena McKennitt

•→http://www.leonardcohenfiles.com/poem.html←•   [1934-2016]

∇  ‘You Want It Darker’  ⇓   [2016]

◊  Chelsea Hotel #1  ↓  [1972]

«Here’s a new song that we… just wrote off a couple of weeks ago – takes place in the Chelsea Hotel, in New York City, and it’s for a brave woman who.. er… put an end to it al…»

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel – You were talking so brave and so sweet
Giving me head on an unmade bed – While the limousines wait in the street.

And those were the reasons and that was New York.
I was running for the money and the flesh -(say it again)- I was running for the money and the flesh
That was called love, for the workers in song  and it still is for those of us left.
Oh but you got away, didn’t you baby?
Just threw it all to the ground – You got away, they can’t pay you now
For making your sweet little sound, come on
Making your sweet little sound, on the juke box
Making your sweet little sound, on the radio
Making your sweet little sound

 

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel, in the winter of ‘67
My friends of that year, they were all getting queer
And me, I was just getting even.

And those were the reasons and that was New York
I was running for the money and the flesh
That was called love for the workers in song
And it still is for those of us left.

Ah but you got away, didn’t you baby?  You just turn your back on the pain

You got away on your deepest dream  –  Racing the midnight train, I can see it

Racing the midnight train all naked  –  Racing the midnight…  feet on the ground

Racing the midnight train –  we can follow you now

Racing the midnight train . . .

 

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel – Then I went down to Tennessee
Sat by the stream – listened to nothing else but all in my honorable dream

Willie York, from Biggy’s Pork, he came to talk with me

and we fed  [. . .]  the stream that’s still running inside

Oh but you got away, didn’t you baby?
You just threw it all to the ground
You got away, they can’t  pay you now  for
Making your sweet little sound, oh so tired . . .  Making your sweet little sound . . .

∇  ‘Because Of’  ⇓   [«Dear Heather»_2004]

•→   ‘The Future’  ⇐

∇   ‘Famous Blue Raincoat’  ⇓

It’s four in the morning, the end of December
I’m writing you now just to see if you’re better
New York is cold, but I like where I’m living
There’s music on Clinton Street all through the evening.
I hear that you’re building your little house deep in the desert
You’re living for nothing now,  hope you’re keeping some kind of record.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?

Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder
You’d been to the station to meet every train
But you came home alone without Lili Marlene
And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
And when she came back she was nobody’s wife.

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well I see Jane’s awake —
She sends her regards.

And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I’m glad that you stood in my way.
If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.

Yes, and thanks  for the trouble you took from her eyes
I thought it was there  for good  so I never tried.

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear —

Sincerely,   A Friend.

◊→    ‘Waiting for the Miracle’  ⇓

Baby, I’ve been waiting – I’ve been waiting night and day.
I didn’t see the time – I waited half my life away.
There were lots of invitations and I know you sent me some,
but I was waiting for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

I know you really loved me – but, you see, my hands were tied.
I know it must have hurt you  –  it must have hurt your pride
to have to stand beneath my window  with your bugle and your drum,
and me I’m up there waiting for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

Ah I don’t believe you’d like it – You wouldn’t like it here.
There’s not much entertainment and the critics are severe.
The Maestro says it’s Mozart but it sounds like bubble gum
when you’re waiting for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

Waiting for the miracle  –  There’s nothing left to do.
I haven’t been this happy since the end of World War II.
Nothing left to do when you know that you’ve been taken.
Nothing left to do when you’re begging for a crumb
Nothing left to do when you’ve got to go on waiting
waiting for the miracle to come.

I dreamed about you, baby  –  It was just the other night.
Most of you was naked  –  Ah but some of you was light.
The sands of time were falling from your fingers and your thumb,
and you were waiting for the miracle, for the miracle to come

Ah baby, let’s get married  –  we’ve been alone too long.
Let’s be alone together  –  Let’s see if we’re that strong.
Yeah let’s do something crazy  –  something absolutely wrong
while we’re waiting for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

Nothing left to do …

When you’ve fallen on the highway and you’re lying in the rain,
and they ask you how you’re doing – of course you’ll say you can’t complain —
If you’re squeezed for information, that’s when you’ve got to play it dumb:
You just say you’re out there waiting
for the miracle, for the miracle to come.

 
⇑  ‘…May everyone live, and may everyone die.
Hello, my love, and, my love, Goodbye…’

•→  ‘Everybody Knows’  ⇐ 

◊→  ’Light as the Breeze’  ⇓  [paintings by Gustav Klimt]

«… O baby I waited so long for your kiss
for something to happen, oh something like this …»

•→ ‘Amen’  [«Tell me again when I’m clean and I’m sober…»]⇐

So we’re drinking and we’re dancing


and the band is really happening


And the johnny walker wisdom running high


And my very sweet companion


She’s the angel of compassion


And she’s rubbing half the world against her thigh


And every drinker – every dancer


lifts a happy face to thank her


And the fiddler fiddles something so sublime


 

All the women tear their blouses off


The men they dance on the polka-dots


And it’s partner found and partner lost


And it’s hell to pay when the fiddler stops


It’s closing time
. . .

 

We’re lonely, we’re romantic 
and the cider’s laced with acid


And the holy spirit’s crying, wheres the beef? 


And the moon is swimming naked


And the summer night is fragrant 
with a mighty expectation of relief


So we struggle and we stagger
 down the snakes and up the ladder


To the tower where the blessed hours chime


 

And I swear it happened just like this
: a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss


The gates of love they budged an inch
 – I cant say much has happened since
 . . .  

But closing time 

. . .

 

I loved you for your beauty
 but that doesn’t make a fool of me


You were in it for your beauty too

I loved you for your body
 – There’s a voice that sounds like God to me

Declaring … declaring  . . . that your body’s really you


 

And I loved you when our love was blessed


and I love you now there’s nothing left


but sorrow and a sense of overtime


And I miss you since the place got wrecked


and I just don’t care what happens next

Looks like freedom but it feels like death


It’s something in between,  I guess
,  it’s closing time

 . . .

Yeah, I miss you since the place got wrecked


by the winds of change and the weeds of sex


and looks like freedom but it feels like death


It’s something in between,  I guess
,  it’s closing time

 . . .

 

We’re drinking and we’re dancing
 – But there’s nothing really happening


The place is dead as heaven on a Saturday night


And my very close companion
 gets me fumbling, gets me laughing


She’s a hundred but she’s wearing
 something tight


I lift my glass to the awful truth
 which you cant reveal to the ears of youth


Except to say it isn’t worth a dime


 

And the whole dam place goes crazy twice


And it’s once for the devil and it’s once for Christ


But the boss don’t like these dizzy heights


We’re busted in the blinding lights 
of closing time . . .

•→ ‘Almost Like the Blues’ ⇐[«Popular Problems»_2014]

The war was lost – The treaty signed
I was not caught  across the line
I was not caught Tho many tried
I live among you,  well-disguised

I had to leave  my life behind
I dug some graves  you’ll never find
The story’s told  with facts and lies
I have a name  but never mind

Never mind – Never mind
The war was lost – The treaty signed
There’s Truth that lives and Truth that dies
I don’t know which So never mind

Your victory  was so complete
Some among you  thought to keep
A record of  our little lives
The clothes we wore  our spoons our knives

The games of luck  our soldiers played
The stones we cut,  The songs we made
Our law of peace   which understands
A husband leads,  A wife commands

And all of this – Expressions of the
Sweet indifference – Some called love
The high indifference – Some call fate
But we had names   more intimate

Names so deep and names so true
They’re blood to me, they’re  dust to you
There is no need   and this survives
There’s Truth that lives  and Truth that dies

Never mind – Never mind
I had to leave my Life behind
There’s Truth that lives and Truth that dies
I don’t know which So never mind

I could not kill   the way you kill
I could not hate,  I tried, I failed
You turned me in, at least you tried
You side with them whom you despise

This was your heart, This swarm of flies
This was once your mouth, This bowl of lies
You serve them well, I’m not surprised
You’re of their kin,  You’re of their kind

Never mind – Never mind
I had to leave my Life behind
The story’s told with facts and lies
You own the world  So never mind

Never mind – Never mind
I live the life  I left behind
I live it full – I live it wide
Through layers of time you can’t divide

My woman’s here – My children too
Their graves are safe from ghosts like you
In places deep with roots entwined
I live the life I left behind

The war was lost, The treaty signed – I was not caught across the line
I was not caught Tho many tried – I live among you well-disguised

 

∞   ‘A Thousand kisses deep’ ↓  [poem]

Don’t matter if the road is long
Don’t matter if it’s steep
Don’t matter if the moon is gone
And the darkness is complete
Don’t matter if we lose our way
It’s written that we’ll meet
At least, that’s what I heard you say
A thousand kisses deep

I loved you when you opened
Like a lily to the heat
You see, I’m just another snowman
Standing in the rain and sleet
Who loved you with his frozen love
His second hand physique
With all he is and all he was
A thousand kisses deep

I know you had to lie to me
I know you had to cheat
You learned it on your father’s knee
And at your mother’s feet
But did you have to fight your way
Across the burning street
When all our vital interests lay
A thousand kisses deep

I’m turning tricks
I’m getting fixed
I’m back on boogie street
I’d like to quit the business
But I’m in it, so to speak
The thought of you is peaceful
And the file on you complete
Except what I forgot to do
A thousand kisses deep

Don’t matter if you’re rich and strong
Don’t matter if you’re weak
Don’t matter if you write a song
The nightingales repeat
Don’t matter if it’s nine to five
Or timeless and unique
You ditch your life to stay alive
A thousand kisses deep

The ponies run
The girls are young
The odds are there to beat
You win a while, and then it’s done
Your little winning streak
And summon now to deal with your invincible defeat
You live your life as if it’s real
A thousand kisses deep

I hear their voices in the wine
That sometimes did me seek
The band is playing Auld Lang Syne
But the heart will not retreat
There’s no forsaking what you love
No existential leap
As witnessed here in time and blood
A thousand kisses deep

•→ Paul Simon’s Sound of Silence ⇐

•→ How to speak poetry ⇐ [from «Death of a Lady’s Man»]  

«…The poem is nothing but information. It is the Constitution of the inner country. If you declaim it and blow it up with noble intentions then you are no better than the politicians whom you despise. You are just someone waving a flag and making the cheapest appeal to a kind of emotional patriotism. Think of the words as science, not as art. They are a report…»

÷      ÷      ÷                  ÷      ÷      ÷

¤  Loreena McKennitt

•→ ‘Marrakesh Night Market’  [«The mask and mirror»] –  Loreena writes in the CD booklet about this song: March 16, 1993 –

Arrived tonight in Marrakesh and am staying on the edge of the market. It is Ramadan and there is heightened activity all around. I am struck by the hooded features of men as they pass through the lights and shadows: they look monk-like. Horses, carriages, cars, bicycles and thousands of people are embroiled in the activities of the night … a cacophony of sound.

I retreat to a rooftop café to watch while sipping mint tea … many circles of twenty or so people are scattered around the market, each involved in their own drama of music, storytelling monkeys on men’s shoulders, or cobras being coaxed to «dance» on rugs; «magic» concoctions of bone, seeds, stones and spices are sold … women are veiled to a great degree … I am stuck by the sense of intrigue the environment creates; as much is concealed as is revealed … 

 ◊   Mummer’s Dance (Dance of wolves)  ⇓

When in the springtime of the year – When the trees are crowned with leaves
When the ash and oak, and the birch and yew are dressed in ribbons fair
When owls call the breathless moon, in the blue veil of the night
The shadows of the trees appear amidst the lantern light

We’ve been rambling all the night and some time of this day
Now returning back again, we bring a garland gay

Who will go down to those shady groves and summon the shadows there
And tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms in the springtime of the year
The songs of birds seem to fill the wood that when the fiddler plays
All their voices can be heard long past their woodland days

We’ve been rambling all the night . . .

And so they linked their hands and danced round in circles and in rows
And so the journey of the night descends when all the shades are gone
«A garland gay we bring you here and at your door we stand
It is a sprout well budded out – The work of Our Lord’s hand»

•→ ‘Night Ride Across the Caucasus’  ⇔ [lyrics]

•→ ‘The Gates of Istanbul’  ⇔ [lyrics]

 •→  ‘The Mystics Dream’ ⇓

A clouded dream on an earthly night
Hangs upon the crescent moon
A voiceless song in an ageless light
Sings at the coming dawn
Birds in flight are calling there
Where the heart moves the stones
It’s there that my heart is longing for
All for the love of you

A painting hangs on an ivy wall
Nestled in the emerald moss
Eyes declare a truce of trust
And then it draws me far away
Where deep in the desert twilight
Sand melts in pools of the sky
Darkness lays her crimson cloak
Your lamps will call, call me home

And so it’s there my homage’s due
Clutched by the still of the night
And now I feel, feel you move
And every breath is full
So it’s there my homage’s due
Clutched by the still of the night
Even the distance feels so near
All for the love of you

A clouded dream on an earthly night
Hangs upon the crescent moon
A voiceless song in an ageless light
Sings at the coming dawn
Birds in flight are calling there
Where the heart moves the stones
It’s there that my heart is longing for
All for the love of you

∇   «The Lady Of Shalott»  ⇓

Lyrics from Alfred Lord Tennyson‘s poem about a lady by the fictional name Shalott who lived at the river of an island but she is cursed: whenever she looks at herself in the mirror she sees other images instead of hers. She decides to go to the palace to solve her problems using a boat but dies in the middle of her journey.

∞  ‘The Bonny Swans’  ↓

A maiden gets drowned in a lake by her sister … She comes back as a swan, then turns into a harp

•→  ‘Incantation‘  ←‘Anlat bana, Ey Ilham,  ouzaklara ve genis topraklara  yolu dusenleri’ 

«Tell me, o Muse of those who traveled far and wide…»

•→ ‘The Dark Night of The Soul’ ↔[lyrics]

•→Santiago (Dancing Gypsy)←

⇓  ‘Skellig‘  ⇐

¤  ‘The Highwayman’   ⇓

Alfred Noyes‘ poem starts out with a highwayman (that’s a robber who holds people up on the road) visiting his girlfriend Bess at her father’s inn. He’s on the move (apparently he’s got some robbing to do) so he only has time for one kiss. He promises that he’ll be back by the next night at the latest.

The next evening, instead of the highwayman, some British soldiers show up. These guys are real jerks. They drink a bunch of beer, they tie up Bess, and then they wait at the windows to shoot the highwayman when he comes back. Bess is tied up with a gun at her chest, and she wriggles around until she has her finger on the trigger. Then, when she hears the highwayman’s horse, she fires the gun, and gives her life to warn him about the ambush. The highwayman tries to get away, but it doesn’t work. He gets mowed down by the soldiers in the middle of the road, and dies in a pool of blood. Still, on certain winter nights, his ghost still rides down the highway to meet Bess.