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Leonard Cohen - The Energy of Slaves

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Contents
Original edition copyright Leonard Cohen 1972 First McClelland Stewart - photo 1
Original edition copyright Leonard Cohen 1972 First McClelland Stewart - photo 2
Original edition copyright Leonard Cohen, 1972 First McClelland & Stewart edition 1972. This edition 2018. All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisheror, in case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a licence from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agencyis an infringement of the copyright law. McClelland & Stewart and colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House Canada Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Cohen, Leonard, 1934-2016, author The energy of slaves / Leonard Cohen. Poems. Poems.

Issued in print and electronic formats. ISBN 9780771024726 (softcover).ISBN 9780771024788 (EPUB) I. Title. PS8505.O22E5 2018 C811.54 C2018-901598-5 C2018-901599-3 Book design by Five Seventeen McClelland & Stewart, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited, a Penguin Random House Company www.penguinrandomhouse.ca

v532 a Contents This title contains long lines of poetry The line of - photo 3
v5.3.2 a
Contents
This title contains long lines of poetry. The line of characters below indicates approximately the longest line in the text: through which you impressed upon my shapeless hunger To most accurately reproduce the layout of the text on the printed page, you may choose to decrease the size of the text on your viewer and/or change the orientation of your screen until the above line of characters fits on a single line. This may not be possible on all e-reading devices.

Viewing this title at a higher than optimal text size or on a screen too small to accommodate the longest lines in the text will alter the reading experience and may cause single lines of some poems to display as multiple lines of text. If this occurs, the turn of the line will be marked with a shallow indent.

Welcome to these lines There is a war on but Ill try to make you comfortable - photo 4
Welcome to these lines There is a war on but Ill try to make you comfortable Dont follow my conversation its just nervousness Didnt I make love to you when we were students of the East Yes the house is different the village will be taken soon Ive removed whatever might give comfort to the enemy We are alone until the times change and those who have been betrayed come back like pilgrims to this moment when we did not yield and call the darkness poetry
I threw open the shutters light fell on this poem It fell on the name of a man - photo 5
I threw open the shutters light fell on this poem It fell on the name of a man tortured on a terrace above a well-known street I swore by the sunlight to avenge his broken feet
I threw open the shutters light fell on these lines which are incomplete It - photo 6
I threw open the shutters: light fell on these lines (which are incomplete) It fell on two words which I must erase: name of a man tortured on a terrace above a well-known street I swore by the sunlight to take his advice: remove all evidence from my verse forget about his punctured feet
This is the only poem I can read I am the only one can write it Others seem to - photo 7
This is the only poem I can read I am the only one can write it Others seem to think the past can guide them My own music is not merely naked It is open-legged It is like a cunt and like a cunt must needs be houseproud I didnt kill myself when things went wrong I didnt turn to drugs or teaching I tried to sleep but when I couldnt sleep I learned to write I learned to write what might be read on nights like this by one like me
All men delight you If you ever read this think of the man writing it he hated - photo 8
All men delight you If you ever read this think of the man writing it he hated the world on your behalf
Id like to read one of the poems that drove me into poetry I cant remember one - photo 9
Id like to read one of the poems that drove me into poetry I cant remember one line or where to look The same thing happened with money girls and late evenings of talk Where are the poems that led me away from everything I loved to stand here naked with the thought of finding thee
PORTRAIT OF A GIRL
She sits behind the wooden shutters on a very hot day The room is dark, the photographs gloomy She is profoundly worried that her thighs are too big and her ass fat and ugly Also she is too hairy The lucky American girls are not hairy She sweats too much There is a fine mist caught on the dark hairs above her mouth I wish I could show her what such hair and haunches do for one like me Unfortunately I dont know who she is or where she lives or if indeed she lives at all There is no information about this person except in these lines and let me make it clear as far as Im concerned she has no problem whatsoever
My skin is made of stars that tell me what to do Turn on the light I am a - photo 10
My skin is made of stars that tell me what to do. Turn on the light. I am a dwarf. You could love me as an embalmed child if my legs were not so thick and short.

Your confessions of ignorance charmed me once upon a time. Teach me to be happy you said to everyone in bed. You bought them an expensive apple if they tried. I am a fastidious dwarf. You thought I could keep you beautiful with a lamentation. Even now you are ready to begin again but I am too busy washing.

I want to tell my past to a doctor but I want to tell it to a doctor who does not love the past who will not say at last: But remember you are and you are not a dwarf. Keep the fire. Keep the fire. Your body is holy. Do not believe the truth. The truth is tiny compared to the things you have to do.

You are long and thin and fair.

There are no traitors among women Even the mother does not tell the son they do - photo 11
There are no traitors among women Even the mother does not tell the son they do not wish us well She cannot be tamed by conversation Absence is the only weapon against the supreme arsenal of her body She reserves a special contempt for the slaves of beauty She lets them watch her die Forgive me, partisans, I only sing this for the ones who do not care who wins the war
Poetry begun in this mood rarely succeeds the girl wasnt at the caf the poet - photo 12
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