Dancing with you in Vianna

Reading this poem on the train, drowned in a sweet sour mix of tear and smile..

Reading this line by line along with Lorca’s poem and our days together..

One may call it lust,
but us really wasn’t about lust,
it was about two exhausted souls finding peace together..

My train is passing the lake,
a silver line smiling in the distance,
I close my eyes and feel a breeze,
it should be the doves flying toward the hallway with thousands of windows,
and I see the reflection of our souls swirling on the mirrors,
and I smile,
and I taste the hidden tears behind the eyelids,
and I swim in your arms..

And there is this loud sound,
my train got to the station.

Stopping train tears me apart from my dreams,
back to reality,
back to work,
another day.
Only dreaming of Vianna

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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

I, I-I-I
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 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

I, I-I-I️
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?

I, I-I-I
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

I, I-I-I️
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

Oh my love,
oh my love
Take this waltz,
take this waltz
It’s yours now,
it’s all that there is

Songwriters: Leonard Cohen
Based on Lorca Ay,ay,ay,ay

Will you take this waltz?
Will you come with me to vianna?

Ay, ay, ay, ay!

In vianna 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

Lorca