Ci costringe a sognare in un giardino incantato
Una marea di pensieri. Come succede ogni volta che lunghe giornate di sole lasciano spazio alla pioggia. Il naso spiaccicato sui vetri con le gocce che tentano di colpirti. Un montaggio serrato di eventi vissuti e non davanti agli occhi.
Allora si attende trepidanti il domani. Come antistress, in mancanza di attività ludiche più gratificanti, credo proprio che utilizzerò una scopa e poi un'aspirapolvere, uno straccio e So long, Marianne (in Songs of Leonard Cohen, 1967, a mio giudizio uno degli album d'esordio più belli di sempre).
Sensazioni belle o brutte non importa adesso, mi basta che ci siano. Non si scappa.
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 ...
2 commenti:
Avalanche.
Well I stepped into an avalanche,
It covered up my soul;
When I am not this hunchback that you see,
I sleep beneath the golden hill.
You who wish to conquer pain,
You must learn, learn to serve me well.
You strike my side by accident
As you go down for your gold.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
Is neither starved nor cold;
He does not ask for your company,
Not at the centre, the centre of the world.
When I am on a pedestal,
You did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me
To kneel grotesque and bare.
I myself am the pedestal
For this ugly hump at which you stare.
You who wish to conquer pain,
You must learn what makes me kind;
The crumbs of love that you offer me,
Theyre the crumbs Ive left behind.
Your pain is no credential here,
Its just the shadow, shadow of my wound.
I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed;
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need.
You say youve gone away from me,
But I can feel you when you breathe.
Do not dress in those rags for me,
I know you are not poor;
You dont love me quite so fiercely now
When you know that you are not sure,
It is your turn, beloved,
It is your flesh that I wear.
anche se mo' non piove
L.
"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"
Caro bloggaro, inutile dirti che
la tua vena intimista cattura spesso e volentieri.
E il naufragar..
Liverani Armando, detto...
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