Hands in Poems: Leonard Cohen (III)

Leonard Cohen

Beneath my hands

your small breasts

are the upturned bellies

of breathing fallen sparrows. 

Wherever you move

I hear the sounds of closing wings

of falling wings. 

I am speechless

because you have fallen beside me

because your eyelashes

are the spines of tiny fragile animals. 

I dread the time

when your mouth

begins to call me hunter. 

When you call me close

to tell me

your body is not beautiful

I want to summon

the eyes and hidden mouths

of stone and light and water

to testify against you. 

I want them

to surrender before you

the trembling rhyme of your face

from their deep caskets. 

When you call me close

to tell me

your body is not beautiful

I want my body and my hands

to be pools

for your looking and laughing.

From Selected Poems, 1956-1968 (1969)

So long, Leonard Cohen

Fonte: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Leonard_Cohen_2107.jpg

O pasado domingo debatendo ao fío do Nobel de Dylan, saíu na conversa o mestre Leonard Cohen, e como concordabamos na habilidade das súas composicións, tanto poéticas como musicais. Diciamos como era un luxo ter a este home no planeta e poder gozar do seu xenio e talento para expresar nesa voz profunda e algo nasal os nosos propios sentimentos, pregarias, desexos ou arrepentimento; e como era capaz de transmitir o que el mesmo chamou "un tipo de equilibrio no caos da existencia".

É triste o mundo sen Cohen, e unha sente que lle gustaría darlle as grazas dalgún xeito por todo o que recibímos del, non si? Voume apropiar a tal efecto dos tributos de dúas artistas: Ana Bacalhau, a voz de Deolinda, e Silvia Pérez Cruz , da que xa vos temos falado noutra entrada e cuxas versións de temas de Cohen vos recomendo. 

Déixovos primeiramente unha pequena mostra da homenaxe doce e respectuosa que Deolinda lle fixo onte á noitiña dentro dun concerto íntimo e intenso no entorno especial do Teatro Jofre de Ferrol. Non fixo unha versión de Cohen, senón que lle adicou un tema do seu novo disco Outras histórias: “As cançoes que tu farias”, que fala de todas esas cancións que quedan no tinteiro ao morrer eses artistas que as escribían. Quedamos á espera desa máquina que “consiga traer en vida nas cançoes que tu farias”, mestre Cohen, e danzaremos ao son que ti marques.

As canções que tu farias

Que mais canções é que farias tu, ó ai 

se não morresses novo? 

Quantas canções ficaram ser ter voz 

na voz calada deste povo? 

Que espaço ocupam as canções 

que não cantaste? 

No espaço aberto do silêncio que deixaste 

Talvez um dia uma máquina consiga 

Ler nesse espaço as canções que tu farias 

E as canções que tu farias 

eu dançaria, ai eu dançaria

ai eu dançaria! 

E as canções que tu farias 

eu dançaria, ai eu dançaria 

ai eu dançaria! 

Que mais palavras cantarias tu, ó ai 

se estivesses cá conosco? 

Essas palavras que são o que eu sou 

que são tudo aquilo que somos 

Que vida existe nas canções 

que não escreveste? 

E que mais vidas nos darias 

que não deste? 

Talvez um dia uma máquina consiga 

trazer-te em vida nas canções que tu farias 

E as canções que tu farias 

eu dançaria, ai eu dançaria 

ai eu dançaria! 

Talvez um dia uma máquina consiga 

Ler nesse espaço as canções que tu farias 

E as canções que tu farias 

eu dançaria, ai eu dançaria 

ai eu dançaria!

Pola súa banda, Silvia Pérez Cruz compartía o seguinte comentario na rede social Facebook acompañado dun vídeo dela cantando no metro de Nova Iorque.

Esta mañana mi amigo Igor Cortadellas, me ha mandado este video, no recordaba que lo habíamos grabado, lo teníamos en un cajón y hemos decidido que en homenaje al maestro Cohen lo teníamos que colgar hoy. Fue grabado en el metro de NY en el 2015, el sonido no es muy bueno y yo aún no me sabía muy bien la canción pero este video tiene algo especial. No hay nada preparado, es la captura de un momento real, la gente que sale es la del momento y al final de la canción solo puedo decir que yo no estoy cantando. Lo juro.

Gracias Leonard.

The Heart in Poems: Leonard Cohen (II)

Happens to the Heart 

Leonard Cohen (1934)

I was always working steady

But I never called it art

I was funding my depression 

Meeting Jesus reading Marx

Sure it failed my little fire

But it's bright the dying spark

Go tell the young messiah

What happens to the heart 

There’s a mist of summer kisses

Where I tried to double-park

The rivalry was vicious

And the women were in charge

It was nothing, it was business

But it left an ugly mark

So I’ve come here to revisit

What happens to the Heart

I was selling holy trinkets 

I was dressing kind of sharp 

Had a pussy in the kitchen

And a panther in the yard 

In the prison of the gifted 

I was friendly with the guard 

So I never had to witness 

What happens to the Heart

I should have seen it coming

You could say I wrote the chart

Just to look at her was trouble

It was trouble from the start

Sure we played a stunning couple

But I never liked the part

It ain’t pretty, it ain’t subtle

What happens to the Heart

Now the angel’s got a fiddle

And the devil’s got a harp

Every soul is like a minnow

Every mind is like a shark

I've opened every window

But the house, the house is dark

You give in and then it's simple

What happens to the heart 

I was always working steady

But I never called it art

The slaves were there already 

The singers chained and charred 

Now the arc of justice bending

And the injured soon to march

I got this job defending

What happens to the Heart

I studied with this beggar

He was filthy he was scarred

By the claws of many women

He had failed to disregard

No fable here no lesson

No singing meadow lark

Just a filthy beggar blessing

What happens to the heart

I was always working steady

But I never called it art

I could lift, but nothing heavy

Almost lost my union card

I was handy with a rifle

My father's 303

We fought for something final

Not the right to disagree 

Sure it failed my little fire

But it's bright the dying spark

Go tell the young messiah

What happens to the heart

Bob Dylan's Letters

Supoño que nos colleu por sorpresa a nova de que Bob Dylan gañase o premio Nobel de Literatura deste ano, non si? Xa falaramos da súa relevancia nunha entrada previa, e pola miña parte, as letras de Dylan, coma as de Leonard Cohen ou Van Morrison, deben ser recoñecidas como o que son: verdadeiros poemas, obras de arte dignas de recoñecemento alén do seu valor puramente musical.

É apropiado, daquela, nun día especial coma este, recuperar unha das súas cartas, publicada na web de Letters of Note (onde podedes ler no seu texto íntegro) que Dylan escribiu aos editores de Broadside en xaneiro do 64, con vinte e dous anos, antes do lanzamento do seu terceiro album.  Unha misiva longa e caprichosa coma este día de chuvia de outono onde Dylan fala do seu ascenso á fama, os cartos e a culpa que o acompañaron, e o seu amor por Suze Rotolo.

A LETTER FROM BOB DYLAN

for sis and gordon an all broads of good sizes 

let me begin by not beginnin 

let me start not by startin but by continuin 

it sometimes gets so hard for me -- 

I am now famous 

I am now famous by the rules of public famiousity 

it snuck up on me 

an pulverized me... 

I never knew what was happenin 

it is hard for me t walk down the same streets 

I did before the same way because now 

I truly dont know 

who is waitin for my autograph... 

I dont know if I like givin my autograph 

oh yes sometimes I do... 

(...)

people ask why do I write the way I do 

how foolish 

how monsterish 

a question like that hits me... 

it makes me think that I'm doin nothin 

it makes me think that I'm not being heard 

yes above all the mumble jumble an rave praises 

an all the records I've sold... thru all the packed 

houses I play... thru all the communication systems 

an rants an bellows an yellin an clappin comes 

a statement like "why do you do what you do" 

what is this? 

some kind of constipated idiot world? 

some kind of horseshoe game we're all playin 

responding only when a ringer clangs 

no no no 

not my world 

everybody plays in my world 

aint nobody first second third or fourth 

everybody shoots at the same time 

an ringers dont count 

an everybody wins 

an nobody loses 

cause everybody lives an breathes 

an takes up space 

an cant be overlooked 

an I am a people too 

I cannot pretend I'm not 

an I feel guilty
(...)

my mind sometimes runs like a roll of toilet paper 

an I hate like hell t see it unravel an unwind 

at my empty walls
(...)

I think of love in weird terms. 

sometimes I even feel guilty about it 

because I know I love sue 

but I should love everybody like I love sue 

an in all honesty I dont 

I just love her that way 

an I say what way? 

an a voice says "that way" 

an I get quite up tite 

an I know I have a long way t go 

when the day comes when I can love everything 

that breathes the way I love sue then 

(...)

I got a letter from Pete an he closed by sayin 

"take it easy but take it" I thought about that 

for an hour or more when I reached my conclusion 

of what it really meant I either cried or laughed 

(I cant remember which) I will repeat the same an 

add "give it easy but give it" an I'll think about 

that for an hour an at the end either cry or laugh 

(I'll write you another letter an tell you which

one it is) 

all right then 

faretheewell 

shaloom an vamoose
(...)

love t agnes 

she is one of the true talents of the universe 

I've always thought that an would like t see her 

again some time 

love t everybody in your house 

see yuh 

softly an sleepy 

but ready an waitin 

Bob Dylan

The Heart in Poems: Leonard Cohen (I)

Steer Your Way

Leonard Cohen (1934)

Steer your way through the ruins of the Altar and the Mall

Steer your way through the fables of Creation and the Fall

Steer your way past the Palaces that rise above the rot

Year by year

Month by month 

Day by day

Thought by thought 

Steer your heart past the Truth you believed in yesterday

Such as Fundamental Goodness and the Wisdom of the Way

Steer your heart, precious heart, past the women whom you bought

 Year by year

Month by month 

Day by day

Thought by thought

Steer your path through the pain that is far more real than you

That has smashed the Cosmic Model, that has blinded every View 

And please don’t make me go there, though there be a God or not

Year by year

Month by month 

Day by day 

Thought by thought

They whisper still, the injured stones, the blunted mountains weep

As he died to make men holy, let us die to make things cheap

And say the Mea Culpa, which you’ve gradually forgot

 Year by year 

Month by month 

Day by day 

Thought by thought 

Steer your way, O my heart, though I have no right to ask 

To the one who was never never equal to the task 

Who knows he’s been convicted, who knows he will be shot

Year by year 

Month by month 

Day by day 

Thought by thought

Leonard Cohen's Letter to Marianne Ihlen

Source: http://www.independent.ie

Both Dolores López and Miro Villar have kindly shared recent articles about Leonard Cohen, who we have previously discussed in former entries in relation to his allusions to letters in a couple of his songs ("Famous Blue Raincoat" and "The Letters"). However, in this case, articles such as this  (from The Independent) or this one (from The Guardian), make reference to a personal poignant letter the Canadian singer-songwriter penned to his dying muse Marianne Ihlen days before her death on July 29. Ihlen inspired such songs as "So Long, Marianne" (see video and lyrics below), "Bird on the Wire" and "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye".

Marianne Ihlen (left) Source: James Burke, the LIFE picture collection

Cohen and Ihlen enjoyed a seven-year romance after meeting on the Greek Island in Hydra during the 1960s. He ultimately invited her and her infant son to live with him in Montreal. 

Ihlen was dying of leukemia and had only a few days to live, so her close friend Jan Christian Mollestad got in touch with Cohen to tell him Ihlen was dying. 

“It took only two hours and in came this beautiful letter from Leonard to Marianne. We brought it to her the next day and she was fully conscious and she was so happy that he had already written something for her,” Mollestad said (source: The Guardian)

Mollestad, a documentary maker, read Cohen’s letter to her before she died:

“Well Marianne it's come to this time when we are really so old and our bodies are falling apart and I think I will follow you very soon. Know that I am so close behind you that if you stretch out your hand, I think you can reach mine," Cohen wrote, according to Mollestad.

"And you know that I've always loved you for your beauty and your wisdom, but I don't need to say anything more about that because you know all about that. But now, I just want to wish you a very good journey. Goodbye old friend. Endless love, see you down the road.'"

"So long, Marianne"

Come over to the window, my little darling

I'd like to try to read your palm

I used to think I was some kind of gypsy boy

Before I let you take me home

Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began

To laugh and cry and cry and laugh 

About it all again

Well you know that I love to live with you

But you make me forget so very much

I forget to pray for the angels

And then the angels forget to pray for us

Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began 

We met when we were almost young

Deep in the green lilac park

You held on to me like I was a crucifix

As we went kneeling through the dark

Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began 

Your letters they all say that you're beside me now

Then why do I feel alone?

I'm standing on a ledge and your fine spider web

Is fastening my ankle to a stone

Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began 

For now I need your hidden love

I'm cold as a new razor blade

You left when I told you I was curious

I never said that I was brave

Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began 

Oh, you are really such a pretty one

I see you've gone and changed your name again

And just when I climbed this whole mountainside

To wash my eyelids in the rain

Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began

Letters in Music: "The Letters"

Xa falamos do canadense Leonard Cohen nunha entrada anterior, pero recuperámolo hoxe xa que por unha bendita accidental coincidencia atopei esta canción intitulada "The Letters" (2004), do seu undécimo álbum Dear Heather, que canta acompañado de Sharon Robinson.

A canción é persoal, desgarradora, unha conversa entre el e ela. El repróchalle a ela que non lle adoitaban gustar as cartas que enviaba, aínda que agora por fin entende o miolo do que nelas lle conta e bica esas "páxinas de preocupación". Así e todo, ela nunca apareceu, a pesares de que el "lle deu a [súa] dirección". Ela bótalle en cara que a el lle levou "anos cruzar as liñas da autodefensa", e agora ve as feridas, a perda, "a intensidade do argumento", e tamén como comeza unha carta "á que vén despois".

Triste pero fermosa, non si?

"The Letters"
You never liked to get

The letters that I sent.

But now you've got the gist

Of what my letters meant.

You're reading them again,

The ones you didn't burn.

You press them to your lips,

My pages of concern.

I said there'd been a flood.

I said there's nothing left.

I hoped that you would come.

I gave you my address.

Your story was so long,

The plot was so intense,

It took you years to cross

The lines of self-defense.

The wounded forms appear:

The loss, the full extent;

And simple kindness here,

The solitude of strength.

You walk into my room.

You stand there at my desk,

Begin your letter to

The one who's coming next.

Letters in Music: "Famous Blue Raincoat"

I think I've taken too long to post this song. When I arrived to Ribeira in 2008, one of the activities we did in class consisted in each student presenting their favorite song. They explained the lyrics or why it had a special meaning for them. One of the singers that two people chose that year was Leonard Cohen, who I did not know before and has been a constant in our classes. Every year there is somebody that picks Leonard Cohen as their favorite singer: Leo Estévez, Dolores López or Daniel Gómez, who even chose to sing one of his songs, "Dance Me to the End of Love" in a karaoke session we had last January.

"Famous Blue Raincoat" (1971) is a poignant song written in the form of a letter, in fact many of the lines are written in amphibrachs (long syllables between short syllables). The lyrics tell us the story of a love triangle between the speaker, a woman named Jane, and the male addressee (identified only briefly as "my brother, my killer"). Click here for an article analyzing the song in detail.

"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, I 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 

And you came home 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 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, L. Cohen