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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 110 | volume  | October-November, 2016



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 110October-November, 2016
Sound Reviews

Leonard Cohen

Ten Random Songs of Leonard Cohen


/3
p. 1
Mehmed Begić

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Leonard Cohen

There is a song that I often hum. It is mostly about wine, women and friendship. I also have a friend. The less we see each other, the more the two of us look like the characters of this song. One of its verses goes: svako nosi u sebi nekog svog malog boga kom' se potajno moli. I don't know how it goes with the others, but I know about myself. For a long time, this god for me was the poetry of a man. The name of that man is Leonard Choen and he has shown me everything that I think I know. I will try to tell you about that, based on the commandments of a dozen of his songs. Actually, I will pretend that I try, and it is very possible that I will write about something completely different. Viva la poesia.
      
    https://youtu.be/bUQZqQ2YCVQ  
    
    Hello, my love and my love, goodbye.
At one point I had to move away from your storytelling and your truths which had become mine, from the road signs and illusions. I had to leave all of this and dedicate myself to my own travel, follow my own chaos, with a rose in one hand and her suicide in my other hand. I had to escape to embark on a quest for healing with poetics which was yet to be invented. So on battlefields from here to Barcelona I'm listed with the enemies of love.
      
    Waiting for the miracle, there's nothing left to do. I haven't been this happy, since the end of World War II.
My waiting has taken on holy shapes. You are growing wings. A miracle will happen, a big one like death and a scary one like a birth. You are like a candle and a lighthouse in the dark in the irresistible black which I called even when I tried to escape. Those who were never asked anything by anybody who decided for them hold hands.
      
    If the moon has a sister it's got to be you.
Your open mouth and my tongue perfectly miss each other. These processes demand their own law. Instead I dedicate you a star. And sometimes I light a candle. My stomach is in fire; I burn under my waist and you can't do anything about this. Neither can I. Nothing is to be done. Not happening






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