Adam Cohen - Take This Waltz (Leonard Cohen) | Текст песни

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Federico García Lorca: Pequeño Vals Vienés

En Viena hay diez muchachas,
un hombro donde solloza la muerte
y un bosque de palomas disecadas.
Hay un fragmento de la mañana
en el museo de la escarcha.
Hay un salón con mil ventanas.

¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals con la boca cerrada.

Este vals, este vals, este vals, este vals,
de sí, de muerte y de coñac
que moja su cola en el mar.

Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero,
con la butaca y el libro muerto,
por el melancólico pasillo,
en el oscuro desván del lirio,
en nuestra cama de la luna
y en la danza que sueña la tortuga.

¡Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Toma este vals de quebrada cintura.

En Viena hay cuatro espejos
donde juegan tu boca y los ecos.
Hay una muerte para piano
que pinta de azul a los muchachos.
Hay 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 mío,
en el desván donde juegan los niños,
soñando viejas luces de Hungría
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, este vals del "Te quiero siempre".

En Viena bailaré contigo
con un disfraz que tenga
cabeza de río.
¡Mira qué orillas tengo de jacintos!
Dejaré mi boca entre tus piernas,
mi alma en fotografías y azucenas,
y en las ondas oscuras de tu andar
quiero, amor mío, amor mío, dejar,
violín y sepulcro, las cintas del vals.

>English version

Here is a translation of Lorca's poem:

Little Viennese Waltz (Pequeño vals vienés)

by Federico Garcia Lorca
translated by MackJohnny (SaltandIce.blogspot.com)

In Vienna there are ten girls waiting
for death to sob on their shoulders;
there's a forest where the doves fall
to pieces every morning,
and their feathers are five thousand windows
in a gallery in the museum of frost.

Ay, ay, ay, ay,
Take this waltz with its lips sewn together.

This waltz, this waltz, this waltz
with its flavours of cognac and death,
and the sea splashing salt on its tail.

I need you, I want you, I'll love you
in the armchair with the book of the dead,
in corridors with their shadows of sadness
and the irises’ lofty scent in the dark,
in our bed as pale as the moonlight
and our dance in the shell of our dreams.

Ay, ay, ay, ay,
Take this waltz with its broken waist.

In Vienna there are forty mirrors
where the echoes of your smile still play,
there's a piano with its keys all dying
and no blues left for the boys,
and poor people hang freshly-wept garlands
on the tiles of the roofs every day.

Ay, ay, ay, ay,
Take this waltz that died in my arms

Oh I love you, I want you, I need you,
in an attic where young people play
speedy Hungarian polkas
on quiet July afternoons
and sing of the lamb-white snow iris
(its petals opening slowly,
like your face with its dark edge of silence).

Ay, ay, ay, ay,
Take this waltz called “I’ll Always Want You.”
.
In Vienna we’ll dance it together,
this waltz disguised as a river.
And you’ll see that hyacinths surround us,
their petals and my mouth on your legs,
and I’ve left my soul in photographs and lilies
and in the dark undulations of your walk.

And I want, my love, to leave you
this violin with the dark in its hollows,.
this violin and its measure of the waltz,
this violin with the tomb built in.

>Translation by Leonard Cohen:

Now in vienna theres ten pretty women
Theres a shoulder where death comes to cry
Theres