Joan of Arc
Leonard Cohen| Original | La (retro)versione inglese di Dennis Criteser [2014] |
| JOAN OF ARC Trough the flames the followed Joan of Arc As she came riding through the dark; No moon to keep her armour bright, No man to get her through this very smokey night. She said, "I'm tired of the war, I want the kind of work I had before, A wedding dress or something white To wear upon my swollen appetite". Well I'm glad to hear you talk this way, ou know I've watched you riding every day And something in me yearns to win Such a cold and lonesome heroine... "And who are you?", she sternly spoke, To the one beneath the smoke, "Why? I am fire", he replied, "And I love your solitude and I love your pride". "Then fire make your body cold, I'm gonna give you mine to hold," Saying this she climbed inside To be his one, to be his only bride. And deep into his fiery heart He took the dust of Joan of Arc, And high above the wedding guests He hung the ashes of her wedding dress. It was deep into his fiery heart He took the dust of Joan of Arc, And then she clearly understood If he was fire, oh then she must be wood. I saw her wince, I saw her cry, I saw the glory in her eye; Myself I longed for love and light, But must it come so cruel and oh so bright? | JOAN OF ARC Through the darkness Joan of Arc rode, keeping ahead of the flames, no moon for her armor, no man by her side in her smoky night. I’m tired of the war now, to the work of another time I would return, to a wedding dress, or something white to hide this vocation of mine from triumph and grief. lalala lalala lalalalalala lalala lalala lalalalalala Yours are words I was wanting to hear. I spied you riding every day, and to hear you this way, now I know what I want - to win over a heroine so cold, to embrace some of that pride. "And who are you?" she said, enjoying the game, "Who are you that speaks to me without regard?" "Truly, you are speaking with fire, and I love your solitude, I love your gaze." lalala lalala lalalalalala "And if you are fire, cool down a little, your hands now will have to hold something." And keeping quiet she clambered up inside him to offer him her best, to be a bride. And in the depths of his red-hot heart he took Joan of Arc to envelop her, and there up high in front of the people he hung up the useless ashes of her white dress. lalala lalala lalalalalala And it was from the depths of his red-hot heart that he took Joan and hit the mark, and she understood clearly that if he was fire she had to be wood. lalalalalala I saw the grimace of her pain, I saw the glory in her radiant gaze. Even I would like light and love, but if it arrives must it always be so cruel and glaring? |
