I'll Never Forget You, You Know!


It was ages ago when I first heard of Leonard Cohen. I don't remember which was the first song of his I heard, but whichever it was, I couldn't put his voice out of my head. It reminds me of autumn fires, it's anthracite grey with a hint of orange.

… ponudi ji roko, z dlanjo obrnjeno navzgor. Ona brez razmišljanja položi dlan v njegovo. Zavrtita se mimo palače s stoterimi bleščečimi okni, s kamnitimi podobami desetih lepotic, zaradi katerih smrt joče in s košatim drevesom v vrtu, kjer umirajo golobice. Valček se vrti vase, v smrt, namakajoč svoj rep v morje …

He translated Federico García Lorca's Little Viennese Waltz and sang it as Take This Waltz. I imagined it as waltzing through the city in the middle of the night, in the hour when only loners and weirdos remain standing. Like in my dreamscapes, where anything is possible. Reading Lorca and Cohen was suddenly realizing that it's all right not to search for the ultimate linear story. Disjointed dreams and fragmented bits and pieces happening all at once are more my world.

… hočem te, hočem te, hočem te, ji vročično šepeta in sam sebi zveni kot nekdo iz že davno mrtve knjige, pozabljene v grobnici polni težko dišečih lilij. Njen kristalen smeh se mu vsuje po hrbtu. Vrti jo mimo ogledal v dvorani, kjer skozi odprta velika okna sliši tisoč odmevov njenega smeha, mimo kamnitih mladeničev, z ušesi za vedno polnimi otožne glasbe in z venci solz, ki so jim položeni k nogam. Zasluti košček prihodnosti, zmrznjene v zimski pozebi …

I'll continue reading Leonard Cohen's poetry and listening to anthracite grey of his voice, losing myself between the layers of different streaks happening all at once. It's like a garden with intertwining paths where I continue living my life as if it's real, even though I know it isn't. Down there, a thousand kisses deep.

… vzemi ta valček, prevzetnica, vzemi, dajem ti ga, je vse kar imam, vse kar je še ostalo. Ljubil te bom s krinko reke na obrazu, na podstrešju prežetem s spomini na otroške igre, ogrske svetilke pozabljenega cesarstva in meglice nekega sladkega popoldneva. Položil te bom na posteljo, ki se je do sedaj prazna kopala v mesečini. Gledal bom temačen molk tvoje duše in lilije prekrite s snegom, mehkim kot ovčje runo. Dušo bom zakopal v tvoje spomine, kot v album poln starih plesnivih fotografij. Poglej hijacinte na bregovih reke, na moji rami. Vdal se bom poplavi tvoje lepote in pustil poljub med tvojimi stegni. Nikoli te ne pozabim, veš to …


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