[Dedicated to Irving Layton] So we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright
Dear Heather Please walk by me again With a drink in your hand And your legs all white From the winter
age They make a secret place In their busy lives And they take me there They become naked In their different ways And they say, "Look at me, Leonard
Some people say It's what we deserve For sins against g-d For crimes in the world I wouldn't know I'm just holding the fort Since that day They wounded
The sea so deep and blind The sun, the wild regret The club, the wheel, the mind, O love, aren't you tired yet? The club, the wheel, the mind O love,
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
No words this time? No words. No, there are times when nothing can be done. Not this time. Is it censorship? Is it censorship? No, it's evaporation. No
When it all went down And the pain came through I get it now I was there for you Don't ask me how I know it's true I get it now I was there for you I
I set out one night When the tide was low There were signs in the sky But I did not know I'd be caught in the grip Of the undertow Ditched on a beach
I was dancing with my darlin' to the Tennessee Waltz When an old friend I happened to see Introduced him to my loved one and while they were dancin' My
[Dedicated to A. M. Klein (1909-1972)] Hurt once and for all into silence. A long pain ending without a song to prove it. Who could stand beside you
From bitter searching of the heart, Quickened with passion and with pain We rise to play a greater part. This is the faith from which we start: Men shall
I built my house beside the wood So I could hear you singing And it was sweet and it was good And love was all beginning Fare thee well my nightingale
(Leonard Cohen) Dear Heather Please walk by me again With a drink in your hand And your legs all white From the winter
Bản dịch: Leonard Cohen. Dear Heather.
: (Words by Lord Byron, music by Leonard Cohen) [Dedicated to Irving Layton] So we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart
: (Leonard Cohen) Because of a few songs Wherein I spoke of their mystery, Women have been Exceptionally kind to my old age. They make a secret place
