Leonard Cohen ist tot. Ich habe 2012 ein Buch über ihn veröffentlicht, das dann leider wegen ein paar dummer Seiten in den Reißwolf der Justiz geriet und dessen Vertrieb nach Androhung einer Unterlassungsklage gestoppt wurde. Schade und völlig übertrieben. Das Foto ist von mir selbst (Konzert 2012 Berliner Waldbühne).
https://www.leonardcohenfiles.com/haberl.html
Das ist das wahrscheinlich letzte Gedicht, das Cohen im Sommer 2016 online gestellt hat.
HAPPENS TO THE HEART
I was always working steady
But I never called it art
I was funding my depression
Meeting Jesus reading Marx
Sure it failed my little fire
But it’s bright the dying spark
Go tell the young messiah
What happens to the heart
There’s a mist of summer kisses
Where I tried to double-park
The rivalry was vicious
And the women were in charge
It was nothing, it was business
But it left an ugly mark
So I’ve come here to revisit
What happens to the HeartI was selling holy trinkets
I was dressing kind of sharp
Had a pussy in the kitchen
And a panther in the yard
In the prison of the gifted
I was friendly with the guard
So I never had to witness
What happens to the HeartI should have seen it coming
You could say I wrote the chart
Just to look at her was trouble
It was trouble from the start
Sure we played a stunning couple
But I never liked the part
It ain’t pretty, it ain’t subtle
What happens to the HeartNow the angel’s got a fiddle
And the devil’s got a harp
Every soul is like a minnow
Every mind is like a shark
I’ve opened every window
But the house, the house is dark
You give in and then it’s simple
What happens to the heartI was always working steady
But I never called it art
The slaves were there already
The singers chained and charred
Now the arc of justice bending
And the injured soon to march
I got this job defending
What happens to the HeartI studied with this beggar
He was filthy he was scarred
By the claws of many women
He had failed to disregard
No fable here no lesson
No singing meadow lark
Just a filthy beggar blessing
What happens to the heartI was always working steady
But I never called it art
I could lift, but nothing heavy
Almost lost my union card
I was handy with a rifle
My father’s 303
We fought for something final
Not the right to disagreeSure it failed my little fire
But it’s bright the dying spark
Go tell the young messiah
What happens to the heart
June 24, 2016