Little Viennese Waltz is written in Spanish by Lorca. Leonard Cohen discovered Lorca's poems when young. Later, he translated Lorca and wrote the song 'Take this Waltz'.
Little Viennese Waltz (Lorca)
In Vienna there are ten little girls,
a shoulder for death to cry on,
and a forest of dried pigeons.
There is a fragment of tomorrow
in the museum of winter frost.
There is a thousand-windowed dance hall.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this close-mouthed waltz.
Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz,
of itself of death, and of brandy
that dips its tail in the sea.
I love you, I love you, I love you,
with the armchair and the book of death,
down the melancholy hallway,
in the iris's darkened garret,
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this broken-waisted waltz.
In Vienna there are four mirrors
in which your mouth and the ehcoes play.
There is a death for piano
that paints little boys blue.
There are beggars on the roof.
There are fresh garlands of tears.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this waltz that dies in my arms.
Because I love you, I love you, my love,
in the attic where the children play,
dreaming ancient lights of Hungary
through the noise, the balmy afternoon,
seeing sheep and irises of snow
through the dark silence of your forehead
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this " I will always love you" waltz
In Vienna I will dance with you
in a costume with
a river's head.
See how the hyacinths line my banks!
I will leave my mouth between your legs,
my soul in a photographs and lilies,
and in the dark wake of your footsteps,
my love, my love, I will have to leave
violin and grave, the waltzing ribbons
________________________________________
Take This Waltz - Leonard Cohen
(After Lorca)
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
Oh 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 hallways 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 ...
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
Oh my love, Oh my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz
It's yours now. It's all that there is
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
poem XXIII from The Stones Of The Sky by PABLO NERUDA
I am this naked
mineral:
echo of underneath:
I am happy
to have come so far,
from such an earth:
I am the last one, barely
guts, body, hands
that split off
from the mother lode
without knowing why,
without hope of staying,
resigned to this flighty human
fated to live and drop like a leaf.
Ah, this destiny
of the darkening incessancy,
of being your own-- unsculptured granite,
sheer bulk, irreducible, cold:
I was rock, dark rock
and the parting was violent,
a gash of an alien birth:
I want to go back
to that sure thing,
to home base, to the middle
of the stone mother
from which, I don't know how or when
I was torn away to be torn apart.
mineral:
echo of underneath:
I am happy
to have come so far,
from such an earth:
I am the last one, barely
guts, body, hands
that split off
from the mother lode
without knowing why,
without hope of staying,
resigned to this flighty human
fated to live and drop like a leaf.
Ah, this destiny
of the darkening incessancy,
of being your own-- unsculptured granite,
sheer bulk, irreducible, cold:
I was rock, dark rock
and the parting was violent,
a gash of an alien birth:
I want to go back
to that sure thing,
to home base, to the middle
of the stone mother
from which, I don't know how or when
I was torn away to be torn apart.
AHMET HASIM
POOL
Deep down, the night has massed again
My darling smiles in her wonted place
My darling who doesn't come by day
Appears at night by the pool.
The moonlight a sash for her waist
The heavens her secret veil
The stars roses in her hand.
DARKNESS
On this dark night of love
Wildly the nightingale sings again,
Has Leyla left Mejnun?
I thoght the Wild voice sang of parting pain.
On this dark night of love
I felt my grief, remembered you,
Burned like the love-lorn nightingale's sad refrain.
STAIRCASE
Slowly, slowly will you mount this stairway
--A heap of sun-tinged leaves upon your skirts-
And for a while gaze weeping at the sky...
The waters darken and your face grows pale,
Look at the scarlet air, for evening comes...
Bowed towards the earth, the roses endless glow,
Flame-like the nightingales bleed upon the boughs;
Has marble turned to bronze, do waters burn?
This is a secret tongue that fills the soul
Look at the scarlet air, for evening comes...
DAWN
Shall we return then from this dawn of love?
And shall we travel to the realms of night?
Now those who came here earlier than we
Weep for the phantom of an earlier light.
Return? How can there be a turning back?
When hearts are fallen in so sad a plight?
--It is a hand that reaches from the skies-
The darkness draws to oneness and delight.
Translated by Bernard Lewis
MUKADDIME
Don't think it's rose, or tulip,
filled with fire, don't hold it, you burn,
this rosy glass.
Fuzuli had drunk of this fire
Majnun, fallen with its elixir
into the state ofthis poem.
Those drinking from this cup buming
why, filling the night of love
with moans and mint, end to end
Filled with fire, don't hold it you burn
this rosy glass.
Translated by Murat Nemet Nejat
AHMET HASIM (1884-1933) He came to Istanbul from Baghdad and began his education at the Mekteb-i Sultani (presently the Galatasaray High School, long known for its excellence in French language education) as a boarding student. There he was introduced to the French poetry which later would influence his own work. The poems that he wrote during these years exhibit a romantic attitude and many lyrical qualities. In his later works, one can see the influence of Seyh Galip (1757-1799), in addition to that of French and Belgian poets. POETRY: Gol Saatleri (1921), Piyale (1926). OTHER WORKS: Gurabhane-i Laklakan (1928, collected newspaper articles), Bize Gore (1928, collected newspaper articles), Frankfurt Seyahatnamesi (1933, travel notes).
Deep down, the night has massed again
My darling smiles in her wonted place
My darling who doesn't come by day
Appears at night by the pool.
The moonlight a sash for her waist
The heavens her secret veil
The stars roses in her hand.
DARKNESS
On this dark night of love
Wildly the nightingale sings again,
Has Leyla left Mejnun?
I thoght the Wild voice sang of parting pain.
On this dark night of love
I felt my grief, remembered you,
Burned like the love-lorn nightingale's sad refrain.
STAIRCASE
Slowly, slowly will you mount this stairway
--A heap of sun-tinged leaves upon your skirts-
And for a while gaze weeping at the sky...
The waters darken and your face grows pale,
Look at the scarlet air, for evening comes...
Bowed towards the earth, the roses endless glow,
Flame-like the nightingales bleed upon the boughs;
Has marble turned to bronze, do waters burn?
This is a secret tongue that fills the soul
Look at the scarlet air, for evening comes...
DAWN
Shall we return then from this dawn of love?
And shall we travel to the realms of night?
Now those who came here earlier than we
Weep for the phantom of an earlier light.
Return? How can there be a turning back?
When hearts are fallen in so sad a plight?
--It is a hand that reaches from the skies-
The darkness draws to oneness and delight.
Translated by Bernard Lewis
MUKADDIME
Don't think it's rose, or tulip,
filled with fire, don't hold it, you burn,
this rosy glass.
Fuzuli had drunk of this fire
Majnun, fallen with its elixir
into the state ofthis poem.
Those drinking from this cup buming
why, filling the night of love
with moans and mint, end to end
Filled with fire, don't hold it you burn
this rosy glass.
Translated by Murat Nemet Nejat
AHMET HASIM (1884-1933) He came to Istanbul from Baghdad and began his education at the Mekteb-i Sultani (presently the Galatasaray High School, long known for its excellence in French language education) as a boarding student. There he was introduced to the French poetry which later would influence his own work. The poems that he wrote during these years exhibit a romantic attitude and many lyrical qualities. In his later works, one can see the influence of Seyh Galip (1757-1799), in addition to that of French and Belgian poets. POETRY: Gol Saatleri (1921), Piyale (1926). OTHER WORKS: Gurabhane-i Laklakan (1928, collected newspaper articles), Bize Gore (1928, collected newspaper articles), Frankfurt Seyahatnamesi (1933, travel notes).
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The Pardah Nashin by Sarojini Naidu
Her life is a revolving dream
Of languid and sequestered ease;
Her girdles and her fillets gleam
Like changing fires on sunset seas;
Her raiment is like morning mist,
Shot opal, gold and amethyst.
From thieving light of eyes impure,
From coveting sun or wind's caress,
Her days are guarded and secure
Behind her carven lattices,
Like jewels in a turbaned crest,
Like secrets in a lover's breast.
But though no hand unsanctioned dares
Unveil the mysteries of her grace,
Time lifts the curtain unawares,
And Sorrow looks into her face . . .
Who shall prevent the subtle years,
Or shield a woman's eyes from tears?
~Sarojini Naidu(1879 - 1949)
Of languid and sequestered ease;
Her girdles and her fillets gleam
Like changing fires on sunset seas;
Her raiment is like morning mist,
Shot opal, gold and amethyst.
From thieving light of eyes impure,
From coveting sun or wind's caress,
Her days are guarded and secure
Behind her carven lattices,
Like jewels in a turbaned crest,
Like secrets in a lover's breast.
But though no hand unsanctioned dares
Unveil the mysteries of her grace,
Time lifts the curtain unawares,
And Sorrow looks into her face . . .
Who shall prevent the subtle years,
Or shield a woman's eyes from tears?
~Sarojini Naidu(1879 - 1949)
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
कभी किसी को मुकम्मल जहां नहीं मिलता
कहीं ज़मीन तो कहीं आसमान नहीं मिलता
जिसे भी देखिये वो अपने आप में गुम है
जुबां मिली है मगर हम_जुबां नहीं मिलता
बुझा सका है भला कौन वक़्त के शोले
ये ऎसी आग है जिसमें धुंआ नहीं मिलता
तेरे जहां में ऐसा नहीं के प्यार न हो
जहां उम्मीद हो इसकी वहाँ नहीं मिलता
~निदा फाज़ली
Kabhii kisii ko mukammal jahaaN nahiin milataa
kahiin zamiin to kahiin aasmaaN nahiin milataa
Jise bhii dekhiye vo apane aap mein gum hai
zubaaN milii hai magar ham_zubaaN nahiin milataa
Bujhaa sakaa hai bhalaa kaun vaqt ke shole
ye aisii aag hai jis mein dhuaaN nahiin milataa
Tere jahaan mein aisaa nahiin ke pyaar na ho
jahaaN ummiid ho is kii vahaaN nahiin milataa.
English translation: Kabhi Kissi Ko Mukammal JahaN Nahiin Milataa
No one ever gets a perfect world
Sometimes the earth is missing and sometimes the sky.
Each one seems to be lost in oneself
One has the tongue but no one to understand the words
Who has been able to douse the flames of time!
This is the kind of fire that emits no smoke
It is not that your world is devoid of love
Just that, it is not found where one hopes it will be.
~Nida Fazli
Translated by Mohammad Ahsaan/ Abha Iyengar, May 25th 2009
कहीं ज़मीन तो कहीं आसमान नहीं मिलता
जिसे भी देखिये वो अपने आप में गुम है
जुबां मिली है मगर हम_जुबां नहीं मिलता
बुझा सका है भला कौन वक़्त के शोले
ये ऎसी आग है जिसमें धुंआ नहीं मिलता
तेरे जहां में ऐसा नहीं के प्यार न हो
जहां उम्मीद हो इसकी वहाँ नहीं मिलता
~निदा फाज़ली
Kabhii kisii ko mukammal jahaaN nahiin milataa
kahiin zamiin to kahiin aasmaaN nahiin milataa
Jise bhii dekhiye vo apane aap mein gum hai
zubaaN milii hai magar ham_zubaaN nahiin milataa
Bujhaa sakaa hai bhalaa kaun vaqt ke shole
ye aisii aag hai jis mein dhuaaN nahiin milataa
Tere jahaan mein aisaa nahiin ke pyaar na ho
jahaaN ummiid ho is kii vahaaN nahiin milataa.
English translation: Kabhi Kissi Ko Mukammal JahaN Nahiin Milataa
No one ever gets a perfect world
Sometimes the earth is missing and sometimes the sky.
Each one seems to be lost in oneself
One has the tongue but no one to understand the words
Who has been able to douse the flames of time!
This is the kind of fire that emits no smoke
It is not that your world is devoid of love
Just that, it is not found where one hopes it will be.
~Nida Fazli
Translated by Mohammad Ahsaan/ Abha Iyengar, May 25th 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
कभी किसी को मुकम्मल जहां नहीं मिलता ~निदा फाज़ली (3) with English translation Share
कभी किसी को मुकम्मल जहां नहीं मिलता
कहीं ज़मीन तो कहीं आसमान नहीं मिलता
जिसे भी देखिये वो अपने आप में गुम है
जुबां मिली है मगर हम_जुबां नहीं मिलता
बुझा सका है भला कौन वक़्त के शोले
ये ऎसी आग है जिसमें धुंआ नहीं मिलता
तेरे जहां में ऐसा नहीं के प्यार न हो
जहां उम्मीद हो इसकी वहाँ नहीं मिलता
~निदा फाज़ली
Kabhii kisii ko mukammal jahaaN nahiin milataa
kahiin zamiin to kahiin aasmaaN nahiin milataa
Jise bhii dekhiye vo apane aap mein gum hai
zubaaN milii hai magar ham_zubaaN nahiin milataa
Bujhaa sakaa hai bhalaa kaun vaqt ke shole
ye aisii aag hai jis mein dhuaaN nahiin milataa
Tere jahaan mein aisaa nahiin ke pyaar na ho
jahaaN ummiid ho is kii vahaaN nahiin milataa.
English translation: No one ever gets a perfect world
No one ever gets a perfect world
Sometimes the earth is missing and sometimes the sky.
Each one seems to be lost in oneself
One has the tongue but no one to understand the words
Who has been able to douse the flames of time!
This is the kind of fire that emits no smoke
It is not that your world is devoid of love
Just that, it is not found where one hopes it will be.
~Nida Fazli
Translated by Mohammad Ahsaan/ Abha Iyengar, May 25th 2009
कहीं ज़मीन तो कहीं आसमान नहीं मिलता
जिसे भी देखिये वो अपने आप में गुम है
जुबां मिली है मगर हम_जुबां नहीं मिलता
बुझा सका है भला कौन वक़्त के शोले
ये ऎसी आग है जिसमें धुंआ नहीं मिलता
तेरे जहां में ऐसा नहीं के प्यार न हो
जहां उम्मीद हो इसकी वहाँ नहीं मिलता
~निदा फाज़ली
Kabhii kisii ko mukammal jahaaN nahiin milataa
kahiin zamiin to kahiin aasmaaN nahiin milataa
Jise bhii dekhiye vo apane aap mein gum hai
zubaaN milii hai magar ham_zubaaN nahiin milataa
Bujhaa sakaa hai bhalaa kaun vaqt ke shole
ye aisii aag hai jis mein dhuaaN nahiin milataa
Tere jahaan mein aisaa nahiin ke pyaar na ho
jahaaN ummiid ho is kii vahaaN nahiin milataa.
English translation: No one ever gets a perfect world
No one ever gets a perfect world
Sometimes the earth is missing and sometimes the sky.
Each one seems to be lost in oneself
One has the tongue but no one to understand the words
Who has been able to douse the flames of time!
This is the kind of fire that emits no smoke
It is not that your world is devoid of love
Just that, it is not found where one hopes it will be.
~Nida Fazli
Translated by Mohammad Ahsaan/ Abha Iyengar, May 25th 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Say Something about Child’s Play by Chris Abani
The soldier asks the boy: Choose which
do I cleave? Your right arm or left?
The boy, ten, maybe nine, says: Neither,
or when I play, like a bird with a broken wing
I will smudge the line of the hopscotch
square, let the darkness in.
The soldier asks again: Choose which
do I cleave? Your right leg or left?
Older in this moment than his dead father, the boy
says: Neither, or when I dance the spirit dance,
I will stumble, kick sand in the face of light.
This boy says: Take my right eye,
it has seen too much, but leave me the left,
I will need it to see God.
From Hands Washing Water
do I cleave? Your right arm or left?
The boy, ten, maybe nine, says: Neither,
or when I play, like a bird with a broken wing
I will smudge the line of the hopscotch
square, let the darkness in.
The soldier asks again: Choose which
do I cleave? Your right leg or left?
Older in this moment than his dead father, the boy
says: Neither, or when I dance the spirit dance,
I will stumble, kick sand in the face of light.
This boy says: Take my right eye,
it has seen too much, but leave me the left,
I will need it to see God.
From Hands Washing Water
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