This song reminds me of when I was little and would sit in my father's library among the dust motes dancing in the dappled pools of sunshine on the dark brown carpet.
"Take this waltz"
Now in Vienna there are 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 lilly,
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 that 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 lillies of snow.
Ay, ay, ay, ay. Take this waltz, take this waltz.
Take this waltz, and its "I'll never forget you, you know."
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.
--Leonard Cohen
For those of you who don't know, this song was inspired by a poem by Frederico Gárcia Lorca:
"Pequeo Vals Vienes"
En Viena hay diez muchachas
un hombro donde solloza la muerte
y un bosque de palomas disecadas
Hay un fragmento de la ma~nana
en el museo de la escarcha.
Hay un salon con mil ventanas.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals con la boca cerrada.
Este vals, este vals, este vals,
de si, de muerte y de co~nac
que moja su cola en el mar.
Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero
con la butaca y el libro muerto
por el melancolico pasillo
en el oscuro desvan del lirio
en nuestra cama de la luna
y en la danza que sue~na la tortuga.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals de quebrada cintura.
En Viena hay cuatro espejos
donde juegan tu boca y lo ecos
Hay una muerte para piano
que pinta de azul a los muchachos
Hy mendigos por los tejados
Hay frescas guirnaldas de llanto
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals que se muere en mis brazos
Porque te quiero, te quiero, amor mio
en el desvan donde juegan los ni~nos
so~nando viejas luces de Hugria
por los rumores de la tarde tibia,
viendo ovejas y lirios de nieve
por el silencio oscuro de tu frente.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals de "Te quiero siempre."
En Viena bailare' contigo
con un disfraz que tenga
cabeza del ri'o
Mira que orillas tengo de jacintos!
Dejare mi boca entre tus piernas
mi alma en fotografias y azucenas
y en las ondas, oscuras de tu andar
quiero, amor mio, amor mio, dejar
violin y sepulcro, las cintas del vals
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