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On Poetry and Culture Shock

Leonard Cohen in New York

New York songs are easier to remember than New York poems. It doesn’t matter, because this jewel by Leonard Cohen could be recited instead of sung and it wouldn’t lose one speck of beauty. It’s not a description of New York, but I like to know now where Clinton street is.

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


Son las cuatro de la mañana, finales de Diciembre
te escribo para saber si estás mejor
Hace frío en Nueva York, pero me gusta el sitio donde vivo
Hay música en Clinton Street toda la noche.

Me han dicho que te estás haciendo una casita en el desierto,
¿tienes alguna razón para vivir?
Ojalá lo tengas todo controlado.
Jane vino con un mechón de tu pelo,
Me dijo que se lo diste la noche
que pensabas dejar las cosas claras.
¿Alguna vez las aclaraste?

Qué viejo parecías la última vez que te vimos,
tu famosa gabardina azul estaba rota en un hombro,
Habías estado en la estación viendo pasar los trenes,
y volviste a casa solo, sin Lily Marlene.
E invitaste a mi mujer a un pellizco de tu vida
y cuando volvió, ya no era la mujer de nadie.
Y te veo ahí con una rosa entre los dientes,
otro gitano flaco y ladrón.
Jane está despierta, te manda un saludo.

¿Qué te digo, mi hermano, mi asesino?
¿qué te puedo decir?
Supongo que te echo de menos,
supongo que te perdono.
Me alegro de haberte conocido.
si vuelves alguna vez, por Jane o por mí,
Tu enemigo está dormido y su mujer es libre.

Gracias por la pena que le quitaste de la mirada,
creí que se había quedado así para siempre,
así que nunca intenté borrarla.

Jane vino con un mechón de pelo tuyo.
Me dijo que se lo diste la noche que pensabas dejar las cosas claras.

Sinceramente, L. Cohen.

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