Lettere dal delirio

Take This Waltz...

“Now in Vienna there’s ten pretty women
there’s a shoulder where death comes to cry
there’s a lobby with nine hundred windows
there’s a tree where the doves go to die
there’s a piece that was torn from the morning
and it hangs in the Gallery of Frost

Ay, ay, ay, ay
take this waltz, take this waltz
take this waltz with the clamp on its jaws

I want you, I want you, I want you
on a chair with a dead magazine
in the cave at the tip of the lily
in some hallway where love’s never been

On a bed where the moon has been sweating
in a cry filled with footsteps and sand
ay, ay, ay, ay
take this waltz, take this waltz
take its broken waist in your hand.

This waltz, this waltz
this waltz, this waltz
with its very own breath
of brandy and death
dragging its tail in the sea.

There’s a concert hall in Vienna
where your mouth had a thousand reviews
there’s a bar where the boys have stopped talking
they’ve been sentenced to death by the blues
ah, but who is it climbs to your picture
with a garland of freshly cut tears?

Ay, ay, ay, ay
take this waltz, take this waltz
take this waltz, it’s been dying for years

There’s an attic where children are playing
where I’ve got to lie down with you soon
in a dream of Hungarian lanterns
in the mist of some sweet afternoon
and I’ll see what you’ve chained to your sorrow
all your sheep and your lilies of snow

Ay, ay, ay, ay
take this waltz, take this waltz
with its “I’ll never forget you, you know!”

This waltz, this waltz
this waltz, this waltz
with its very own breath
of brandy and death
dragging its tail in the sea.

And I’ll dance with you in Vienna
I’ll be wearing a river’s disguise
the hyacinth wild on my shoulder
my mouth on the dew of your thighs

And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook
with the photographs there, and the moss
and I’ll yield to the flood of your beauty
my cheap violin and my cross

And you’ll carry me down on your dancing
to the pools that you lift on your wrist
o my love, o my love
take this waltz, take this waltz
it’s yours now, it’s all that there is”.

Cohen

Forse...Io...

"I cannot follow you, my love,
you cannot follow me.
I am the distance you put between
all of the moments that we will be.
You know who I am,
you've stared at the sun,
well I am the one who loves
changing from nothing to one.

Sometimes I need you naked,
sometimes I need you wild,
I need you to carry my children in
and I need you to kill a child.

You know who I am...

If you should ever track me down
I will surrender there
and I will leave with you one broken man
whom I will teach you to repair.

You know who I am...

I cannot follow you, my love,
you cannot follow me.
I am the distance you put between
all of the moments that we will be.

You know who I am... "

Cohen

E forse...sono io quella che tieni...nella tua tasca...per un giorno intero...o per un attimo...lasciando scorrere le tue dita...sulla mia schiena...assaporandone la pelle...ed i rilievi...soffermandoti...per sapermi ancora...forse sono io...quella che ti chiede il tempo di guardarti...e che ti chiede di pensarla ...quando più piove...e l'immagine si dissolve in mille rivoli...

Si...Forse...Io...