Break Time

If a week is a long time in politics, so two years is in Poetry Nights. For a break, we have retarded Friday revels until September 25th. By then faithful attendees will have restored their rhythms and melodies over summer break and rentree. Meanwhile, in place of our regular comment, we post a contribution from one of our favourites - Lail Arad - a song as worthy of being considered a poem as any, which she has sung for us brilliantly in high moments of our Fridays to date. Lail will be there in September for the start of our new season, open to all members and others for fiver, and themed for a change - love, death, youth, age, lust, peace, war or what-you-will, to be announced.
Ah bientot and alla prossima!
C  

 1934 (A Song For Leonard Cohen)

I would have been your lover
probably not more
my survival skills
would have danced me to the door

but for a time I'd be your muse
let me amuse you with the image
up the hill in Hydra
or down in Greenwich Village

and the sun would turn me olive
and I'd pose for the sleeve
the cold would keep us warm
under blankets thick as thieves

sólo es música
a poor man's prose
sólo es música
a rich man's woes

I'd be high on hormones
you'd be low on cash
we'd uncork a bottle
smoke into the stash

just when I'd feel like I'd arrived
you'd say you have to leave
I'd be left looking at myself
on your record sleeve

and I'd grow jealous of Olivia
and of your Olivetti
stop playing the artist Lenny
"I tried, but he won't let me"

sólo es música
a poor man's prose
sólo es música
a rich man's woes

I try to take it stoically
we all take what we can
how it feels to be the lady
of a ladies' man

head held high I walk this town
I've taken what I can
and I still hear you whisper to me
"I'm your man"

yes I would have been your lover
no I wouldn't ask for more
it's just shame that you were born
in 1934

sólo es música
a poor man's prose
sólo es música
a rich man's woes

sólo es música
a poor man's prose
sólo es música
just a rich man's woes