La pluie aux fenêtres
petite gigue triste
je me souviens de toi
une .22 chargée
dans la garde-robe
des mémoires
le plancher de cuisine
poli comme une rivière
l'aube repêche les corps
Poésie: Alain Larose
Vidéo: Denis Samson
© 2010 Tous droits réservés
Leonard Cohen
RépondreSupprimer..Seems So Long Ago, Nancy
It seems so long ago,
Nancy was alone,
looking ate the Late Late show
through a semi-precious stone.
In the House of Honesty
her father was on trial,
in the House of Mystery
there was no one at all,
there was no one at all.
It seems so long ago,
none of us were strong;
Nancy wore green stockings
and she slept with everyone.
She never said she'd wait for us
although she was alone,
I think she fell in love for us
in nineteen sixty one,
in nineteen sixty one.
It seems so long ago,
Nancy was alone,
a forty five beside her head,
an open telephone.
We told her she was beautiful,
we told her she was free
but none of us would meet her in
the House of Mystery,
the House of Mystery.
And now you look around you,
see her everywhere,
many use her body,
many comb her hair.
In the hollow of the night
when you are cold and numb
you hear her talking freely then,
she's happy that you've come,
she's happy that you've come.
Pépite !
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