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The Letters

You never liked to get
The Letters That I feel.
But Now you've got the gist of What
Meant my letters.

You're reading 'em again,
The Ones You Did not burn.
You press' em to your lips, My pages
of Concern.
[...]

Is it wisdom or resignation that sings Leonard Cohen here? Is this a way to repeat as Louis Aragon, "There is no happy love" ? He simply wants to talk about the failures of love arising, in fact, only a small shift in time, space, or in the path of hearts that cross without meeting because they are not "on the same plane? He evokes the passion that blinds, darkening the reason, the illusion that attracts? Does he think all the pitfalls and obstacles that surround our wounded hearts, like so many buoys marking the location of shipwrecks, and eventually make it impossible to navigate?

What is the substance of his thought? What is the deeper meaning of his message? What he says?

But in fact, does he talk to us or talk to us?

In his words apparently confusing the words glow like embers, and illuminate our soul a glow that highlights the changing shadows and reveals moving forms. Frozen memories like stalactites in a cave to life, and on our footsteps imprinted on the ground, we find fragments of ourselves.

Letters

You never liked
Open my letters before but now you

intention that I put you reread


Those with fever n have not burned
You press your lips on my pages
overwhelmed The sudden flood


I said, nothing leaves
I was hoping that you come
You had my address

Both your story stretches
The plot is so intense
Years to Your
cross lines self-defense

injuries appear
The defeat may be
And simple kindness
Solitude in power

You come into my room
At the office, you stand
Start your letter so that it
At the next just

(Translation - Adaptation: Polyphrène)