leonardcohenforum.com

DIE SCHÖPFUNG DER WELT

The rose growing wild
in the light of the moon
from the deepest distress
I will come to you soon

I have not really done
what a man has to do
I was conquering hate
in my longing for you

In the cry and the trembling
it is God who proclaim
that the world was created
in the Eros, the Name

Now the scar has been healed
and there's nothing to see
but the ghost of desire
will never be free

He is jailed by a mirror
in a lousy boutique
which is run by a saint
in the hand of a freak.

Peter I really liked this poem. The rose is making a comeback but this time the poem is

I love the last lines:-

which is run by a saint
in the hand of a freak.