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Boogie Street

O Crown of Light, O Darkened One,

I never thought we'd meet.

You kiss my lips, and then it's done:

I'm back on Boogie Street.

A sip of wine, a cigarette,

And then it's time to go

I tidied up the kitchenette;

I tuned the old banjo.

I'm wanted at the traffic-jam.

They're saving me a seat.

I'm what I am, and what I am,

Is back on Boogie Street.

[ … ]

If there was a song expressing the quintessence of Leonard Cohen , it could be " Boogie Street". The title is the anglicized name of a street Singapore (Bugis Street) who was famous for the intensity and diversity of entertainment that prevailed day and night shops in all kinds (including traffic forgeries) the day, sex and drugs the night. As in "A Thousand Kisses Deep " Leonard Cohen considers are, in all of us, a "Bugis Street" with its illusions, its compromises, its temptations and vices, its dark corners and cheating ... To each his own "demons", they say .

Only love can help to transcend and, perhaps, give meaning to the vicissitudes of our soul, but it is always difficult and risky to move through the maze of our feelings. Their complexity and consequences evoke determinism into chaos. The apparent chaos of feelings is the result of their complexity, the multiplicity their causes, and the strength of their interdependence. The smallest events in life and can cause cascades of "disturbances", whose effects, although logical, are, in practice, unpredictable.

Love is like a flash, so that the higher the clouds, illuminating a moment the tormented landscape of our soul to see how the drawing (or purposely?).

Bugis Street

You, halo, you, the darkened

That was way surprised me

A kiss on my lips and then

once again and Bugis Street

A little wine, a cigarette

It does not linger

I cleaned the kitchen

The banjo granted

At Bottling, waiting for me

I've kept a place

I am what I am being

Back Bugis Street

Oh, my love, I am reminded

What pleasures we knew

Falls and rivers

Where we both baignâmes

Stunned by your beauty rare

Submitted to your service

By such instructions were prepared

A man Bugis Street

You, halo, you, the darkened ...

Come, my friends, without fear

If we are light beings

For we are made of love,

Disappear in love

Although plans are in the flesh

On door leaflet

No one even tells us what

Serves Bugis Street

You, the halo, you, the darkened

That surprised me is way

A kiss on my lips and then

once again and Bugis Street

A little wine, a cigarette

It does not linger

(Translation - Adaptation: Polyphrène)

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Love Itself

(For LW)


The light came through the window,
Straight from the sun above,
And so inside my little room
There plunged the rays of Love.
[…]


I'll try to say a little more:
Love Went on and on
Until it Reached year open door
Then Love Itself
Love Itself Was Gone.
[...]

In a sort of reverie, Leonard Cohen takes us in unpredictable and fascinating dance of dust scattering light filtering through the blinds. The diffusion is a physical phenomenon very special, quite wonderful in fact, that lets us see in a real glow, microscopic particles that float in the air and our vision would not allow us to discern if, by their very small size compared to the wavelength of light rays, they did not acquire this stunning property that makes them reflect light in all directions. The invisible appears to us as an idea that materializes, as a concept that comes to life.
But the slightest breeze, a breath, the slightest fluttering of wings radiating launch this dust in a frenzied dance, spinning, whirling, twirling aimlessly or right ... until the sun's course, outside, deprives us of the light and disappear suddenly makes this fairy tale, ending our reverie.
Is this not what enters and leaves the love of our life?
Is not that what love illuminates life?
Is not that what happened seemingly insignificant can change the course?




Love-Even


Sun, by window
Vint daylight
Thus, in my little room
plunged the rays of Love


I have seen in the rays of light
impalpable dust
The one for the No-Name can
Name for my fellow


I'll try to say a little more
Love came
And then, when he saw
A door opened
Love himself went


Sunglasses illuminated
In its frenzied dance
dust dragged me
In flight disordered


I will try 'comment a little more
Love came
And then, when he saw
An open door
Love even went


Where I went when I get
is the same house
But there is nothing left between
The Nameless and the Name


Sunglasses illuminated
In its frenzied dance
dust dragged me
In flight disordered


I'll try to elaborate a little more
Love came
And Then when he saw
An open door
Love even went
Love even if was in


(Translation - Adaptation: Polyphrène)

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9 months

We feel we get to the end when:

- the concerns are many and varied place to ras-le-bol and generalized collective impatience

- which was only temporary inconvenience becomes a sensation or constant pain (the head so low that it presses against the pelvic bones)

- the Young Turkey tells his class that it is the baby is born (though he does not remember if it's boy or girl and do not know the name, and then suddenly they are twins) and the teachers send congratulations incomprehensible by the book binding

- we've had enough to spare, we left, we made the trek night school, put away, it cleans a bit , we verify that everything is ready, we let the least possible things

plan - the zoups boots went so far as children when they are asked are there to help me climb the

- was " want to meet "this baby, polite way of saying that is royally ch *** in wait at home alone and without a program established ... without getting to imagine the turmoil that his arrival will represent, when we know very well that this is what we must prepare


37 weeks in two days, and even if both are big babies in the week that followed, we repeat that may well be that ultimately it is unsatisfactory and leaves still clinging to the end ...

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No, Not Now

Took my gal to The Picture Show, Just The Other Day
But when I tried to hold her hand; here’s what she hat to say


Chorus:
No, not now – No, not now
No, not now, but may be next week, somehow
[...]

Non, il ne s’agit pas ici de la chanson de Pink Floyd, mais d’un rengaine humoristique un peu grinçante (écrite par Hank Williams , Mel Foree, etCurly Williams), sur un thème on ne peut plus classique, qui vaut cependant le détour pour la gouaille et le ton enjoué de l’artiste. Selon les interprètes et les versions, elle est mi-parlée, mi-chantée (certains ne chantent que la fin du refrain : « but may be next week, somehow »).




Not Now


with my girlfriend at the art gallery the other day
I wanted to take her hand and she said bluntly


Chorus:
"Not maint'nant not but no,
maint'nant No, but later perhaps wait "


Then, on the doorstep, I tried kiss
But she turned and said, stiffly
(Chorus)


I asked her to marry, but She said:
"I don 't'épous'rai not, even if everyone else was dead"
(Chorus)


But she changed her mind. As I regret this day!
For since we got married, she always repeats,
Guess!
(Chorus)


I went out too late last night a party with friends
When I asked him to open, here's what she said
Here's what she told me
(Chorus)


(Traduction - Adaptation : Polyphrène)

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Kisses Sweeter Than Wine

Well, when I was a young man and never had been kissed
I got to thinkin' it over how much I had missed
So I got me a girl and I kissed her and then, and then
Oh, lord, well I kissed 'er again


Because she HAD Kisses Sweeter than Wine
She HAD, mmm, mmm, Kisses Sweeter than Wine
(Sweeter than wine)
[...]

From a traditional Irish song (Drimmin 'Down ") Pete Seeger (for words) and Lead Belly (for music), although they belonged to the group "The Weavers " made the song the pace lively and playful (officially credited to the pseudonymous "Joel Newman" for the words and "Paul Campbell" for music ) which was one of the great success of Jimmie Rodgers . This song was covered by several artists, including " Peter, Paul & Mary " with superb arrangements but your wiser version of Jimmie Rodgers, the more mischievous.
This tale of a hard life and happy is not without a certain nostalgia quickly offset the force rejuvenation of happy memories.
I live this experience every day when passing through that displays photos of my children, I can not help but smile despite my suffering, intensely reliving the moments family happiness, and back in time ... before the death of their mother.




Kisses Sweeter Than Wine


By becoming a young man, I realized
That I have never received a kiss
I found a girl and I kissed her, then, then
My God, kissed her again


Because her kisses were more sweeter than wine
kissing, mmm, mmm, sweeter than wine
Sweeter than wine


Wanting the marry, I told him my love
I promised happiness to the end of today
I pleaded, I begged, naturally and much
Well, hop, my God, she gave me her hand


Because his kisses were sweeter than wine
kissing, mmm, mmm, sweeter than wine
Sweeter than wine


my wife as much as I think we worked hard
Hand in hand, for a better fate
wheat fields came in the bread bowl
Then, hop, my God, I was father of twins


Because his kisses were sweeter than wine
kissing, mmm, mmm, sweeter than Wine
Sweeter than wine


Thus, children, we had four
With a big heart who only wanted to beat
All of them were married, and never hesitate
So hop, my God, I was eight times grandfather


Because his kisses were sweeter than wine
Kisses, mmm, mmm, sweeter than wine
Sweeter than wine


Now that I am old, the end awaits
I think what happened so long ago
With so many children, so many worries and miseries
Yes but, hop, my God, I'm ready to redo


Because his kisses were sweeter than wine
kissing, mmm, mmm, sweeter than wine
Sweeter than wine


(Translation - Adaptation: Polyphrène)

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(foreword: I do not what kind of pictures, much less show, but as the device is completely under-utilized since this summer, I might not have any photographs of this pregnancy then, so I remedied)

Depending on the time, day or side (face or profile) in which I look at myself, my perceptions vary. Here for example, face last night, I am huge. Note that this accords well with the observation that children serve me several times a day "wow your belly he has grown" (we will eventually find out).

But the same profile picture, I find it less worse. I have a little bit early (like 1 or 2 weeks I think) on it, and you will agree with me that there is no photo as it were.

All that to say that we quietly approached the 9th month, and knowing that are born with 2 big 3 weeks in advance, I distrust a tipeu. The tenant of the place is very, very, VERY low, so that in my (bad) dreams he has his head deformed by the bones of my pelvis ... but hey, 1 month ago I had a dream where he was seated and I was a caesarean Office programs when in fact he has his head down. He also takes pleasure in testing the strength of his bubble: soft arm and groin tickling me go * inside * if so, or pushing one foot against the wall, just like below my ribs, and drag it to about 15-20 cm, a real treat.

Good with all that I began to laboriously collecting little things here and there, I had a little moment of panic trying for days the body with clothing birth to 3 months prior to remember that it must be stored (ahem) touuut up in the closet the least accessible of the house, yay, His Eminence is ra-vi have to climb a ladder to get it at a price many contortions. Nothing is ready, or very little, not even the famous "bag of maternity", and not even talking about the dusty mess of the nursery. Everything. Go. Good. We are assured like animals.

And tonight, like every night since 2-3 days I'm going to bed wondering if this is it, if this night would not be good (hope not). It gets super hard to make appointment recently, because of course "we do not know." On the other hand it motivates to the 2-3 thousand stuff lying around, like Everest Ironing or filing invoices. SOOOO as motivating activities to be said. But certainly after, it will be even less.

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Penny Lane

Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he's had the pleasure to have known
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello


On the corner is a banker with a motorcar
The little children laugh at him behind his back
And the banker never wears a mac
In the pouring rain...
Very strange


Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile back
[...]

With " Penny Lane" (John Lennon , Paul McCartney ), the Beatles sing nostalgia, describing, with the surreal tone that printing the filter of memory, scenes of daily life in this district of Liverpool. Wikipedia tells us that he was named in reference to James Penny, slave trader the 18th century. Fortunately, the memory of the Beatles , not this despicable character that come to honor the many tourists who wander the streets today in Liverpool.
The melody is beautiful, decorated with a famous trumpet solo, and establish a perfect backdrop to the back a little melancholy. This does not Paul McCartney slipping into the text a reference to the local slang ( Four of fish and finger pies ) evoking a specialty "gourmet" regional four sub (which is Liverpool somewhat the mussels - are fried to Belgium) and a tentative practice whereby "teens" learn, at your fingertips, sexuality (literally "finger pie").
It is strange and funny to see how this song arouses in his listeners nostalgic for the days when it was aired on a daily basis, while she describes her longing for authors looking back to their hometown. It ends, however, one last "Penny Lane" followed by an ellipsis, like an echo that fades but never dies.


Penny Lane


(On) Penny Lane the barber always photographed
Every head he enjoyed combing
And passersby stop to
Say hello


The banker rolls in the corner convertible
The street children are hilarious
it does not impervious
the rain storm
Very strange


Penny Lane is in my eyes and ears
There, while seated under the sun
I think back to past


In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
In his pocket, a portrait of the queen, folded
Washing his truck to clean
firefighter is a Washer


(solo trumpet)


Penny Lane is in my eyes and ears
Fish - fried, hands that try their hand
In the summer, and once


Near the intersection behind the bus shelter a pretty
Nurse sells poppies on a cart
Although it she thinks the comedy play
She succeeded


(On) Penny Lane, a hairdresser will Another client
To cut the banker wisely patient
Then the fireman comes
Under the pouring rain


Penny Lane is in my eyes and ears
There, while seated under the sun
I think back to past
Penny Lane is in my eyes and ears
There, while seated under the sun
I think back to past
Penny Lane


(Translation - Adaptation: Polyphrène)

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San Francisco Bay Blues

I got the blues for my baby left me

By the San Francisco Bay,

The ocean liner's gone so far away.

Didn't mean to treat her so bad,

She was the best girl I ever have had,

She said goodbye, I can take a cry,

I want to lay down and die.

I ain't got a nickel

And I ain't got a lousy dime.

She don't come back,

Think I'm going to lose my mind.

If she ever gets back to stay,

It's Going To Be Another brand new day,

Walking with my baby

Down by the San Francisco Bay.

[...]

Without doubt the song's most famous and most often resumed Jesse Fuller . Although the theme is the "blues" following a separation, it is a real joy to watch on the many videos available on "Canvas", the obvious glee of artists, musicians as as singers, especially when they play with their kazoos. The melody is particularly alert, and artists will give heart to joy. Look, for example, Eric Clapton or Peter, Paul & Mary , to name a few.

The Blues Bay of San Francisco

cockroach I: I left my darling

In San Francisco Bay

As far as the ships go

I don 'want no harm to treat

The best girls, verily

Told me goodbye, and I feel it coming

my tears, I want to die

a penny in his pocket and

course mowed

Without it, I fear

Losing head path

If she came to stay

The sun would rise again

J ' would go to him

Towards the San Francisco Bay

Sitting in the doorway, looking troubled

I do not know where to go

For the woman I am really mad

love me anymore Do

I'm going to escape my grief

Jump on a train

roll And as far as leading the way

By thinking only of yourself

In a city far from home

I thought mad

Recognizing his voice

When called me by my name

If I was taking it to stay

The sun would rise again

I would go with him

Towards the San Francisco Bay

I would go with him

Towards the San Francisco Bay

I would go with him

Towards the San Francisco Bay

(Translation - Adaptation: Polyphrène)