Book of Longing audiobook

This book. This beautiful, beautiful book. Damn, I’m glad I picked this up. I’ve never read such a wonderful combination of sensual reverie, raw but fading lust and something damn close to Zen enlightenment. Cohen is a good, perhaps great poet, but he was also a practicing Zen monk when he wrote these poems as well as a long standing pilgrim in faith of the holiness of the body. For every poem extolling the benefits of Zazen and mindfulness you’ll read another of fruitful and unalloyed appreciation of the female form and the female mind. What makes this book so joyous is that these inspirations are in no way dichotomous but are just different strands of the spiritual sustenance Cohen finds, and delivers back through his poetry and music, in this wonderful, broken, fucked-up and beautiful beyond belief world. The wonderful volume is greatly abetted by Cohen’s warm, sensual, witty drawings and captions. This book joins my short shelf of books that entertain and inform but also show subtlety and with great depth of feeling and craft what it means to be human. To be human and stumbling towards meaning, purpose and sacred union with others while the world teeters on the cliff-edge of Apocalypse. RE-POST. OLD REVIEW

Book of Longing, Leonard Cohen Book of Longing is the first new poetry book by Leonard Cohen since 1984's Book of Mercy. First published in 2006 by McClelland and Stewart, Book of Longing contains 167 previously unpublished poems and drawings, mostly written at a Zen monastery on Mount Baldy in California, where Cohen lived from 1994 to 1999, and in India, which he visited regularly during the late 1990s. The book also incorporates a number of poems written after his 1978 book, Death of a Lady's Man (not to be confused with his 1977 album, Death of a Ladies' Man). These presumably were left out of his 1984 Book of Mercy, which contained only psalm-like meditations. Book of Longing also collects some of the lyrics to songs from the albums Ten New Songs (2001) and Dear Heather (2004). Many of these poems were first published at The Blackening Pages of The Leonard Cohen Files website.***Out of the thousandswho are known,or who want to be knownas poets,maybe one or twoare genuineand the rest are fakes,hanging around the sacred precinctstrying to look like the real thing.Needless to sayI am one of the fakes,and this is my story. تاریخ نخستین خوانش: روز بیست و نهم ماه ژوئن سال 2014 میلادیعنوان: کتاب اشتیاق؛ شاعر: لئونارد کوهن؛ مترجم: آزاده کامیار؛ تهران، چشمه، 1389؛ در 188 ص؛ شابک: 9789643629786؛ با عنوان: کتاب خواستن؛ تهران، حکمت کلمه، 1396، در 159 ص؛ شابک: 9786008291091؛ چاپ دوم 1397؛ موضوع: شعر شاعران بریتانیایی - سده 21 معنوان: کتاب اشتیاق؛ شاعر: لئونارد کوهن؛ مترجم: احسان مهتدی؛ تهران، نشر چشمه، 1390، در 188 ص؛ شابک: 9789643629786؛ چاپ دوم 1395؛ برخی شعرهای این کتاب با عنوان: در آغوشم کودکی، در روحم سوز سرمایی؛ با برگردان پژمان تهرانیان، تهران، نشر مشکی، 1394، در 48 ص، با شابک: 9789648765700؛ نیز منتشر شده استکتاب حاضر گزیده‌ ای است از کتاب اشتیاق (آخرین لئونارد کوهن) و همچنین جادویه‌ ای زمین، 1961 میلادی؛ گل‌هایی برای هیتلر، 1964 میلادی و قوای بردگان، 1972 میلادی در مجموع حدود صد شعر که خوانشگر را به سفری عاشقانه در گوشه‌ پسگوشه‌ های سرزمین غریب و گاه حزن‌ انگیز شعر کوهن خواهد برد. لئونارد کوهن را در ایران متاسفانه بیش‌تر به عنوان خواننده و نهایتاً ترانه‌ سرا می‌شناسند، حال آن‌که ایشان پیش از هرچیز حقیقتاً شاعر است و شعر برای او در حکم خاکستر زندگی است، وقتی جانانه زبانه بکشد. نقل از کتاب در آغوشم کودکی، «از آلبومِ : ده ترانه ی تازه »در زندگیِ پنهانی ام: چه تند گذر میکردی صبح که دیدمتکندن از گذشته را دیگر انگار نمیتوانمو چه دلتنگم برایت هیچ کس نیست در اطرافو ما کماکان عشق میورزیم به هم در زندگیِ پنهانی املبخند میزنم وقتی غمگینمخیانت میکنم و دروغ میگویمکاری را میکنم که مجبورم تا که بگذرانماما میدانم درست کدام است و نادرست کدامو میمیرم برای حقیقت در زندگیِ پنهانی امهُش دار، برادرم، هُش دار خواهرم، هُش دارگرفتم عاقبت دستوراتی را که بایدپیاده خواهم پیمود روز را پیاده خواهم پیمود شب را گذر خواهم کرد از مرزها مرزهای زندگیِ پنهانی امنگاهی انداختم روزنامه را گریه ات میاندازدهیچ کس باکش نیست که زنده اند یا مُرده انسان هاو کاسب میخواهد که فکر کنییا سفید است یا سیاهشکرت خدایا که ساده نیست آن قدرها در زندگیِ پنهانی ام اینهامیگزم لبم را خریدارم حرفی را که گفته اندم: از واپسین کنایه تا افاضاتِ پیرانهاما تنهایم همیشه و قلبم انگار تکّه ای یخ و چه سرمایی و ازدحامی در زندگیِ پنهانی امبرای همه ی هنرم همه ی مهارتم ...... هیچ وقت شبیه من نبود حتّی یک بار.؛ روز پانزدهم ماه سپتامبر 2003 میلادی»؛ ا. شربیانی

Favorite PoemsThe Book of LongingI can't make the hillsThe system is shotI'm living on pillsFor which I thank G-dI followed the courseFrom chaos to artDesire the horseDepression the cartI sailed like a swanI sank like a rockBut time is long gonePast my laughing stockMy page was too whiteMy ink was too thinThe day wouldn't writeWhat the night pencilled inMy animal howlsMy angel's upsetBut I'm not allowed A trace of regretFor someone will useWhat I couldn't beMy heart will be hersImpersonallyShe'll step on the pathShe'll see what I meanMy will cut in halfAnd freedom betweenFor less than a secondOur lives will collideThe endless suspendedThe door open wideThen she will be bornTo someone like youWhat no one has doneShe'll continue to doI know she is comingI know she will lookAnd that is the longing And this is the book*** My TimeMy time is running outAnd stillI have not sungthe true songthe great songI admitthat I seemto have lost my couragea glance at the mirrora glimpse into my heartmakes me want to shut up foreverso why do you lean me hereLord of my lifelean me at this tablein the middle of the nightwondering how to be beautiful

4/5 stars "The old are kind.The young are hot.Love may be blind.Desire is not."-Sorrows of the Elderly Anyone who knows me knows that I am in love with Leonard Cohen's music, so it was only a matter of time before I delved into his poetry. His tone in the poetry was similar to his music, but also felt very different to just read rather than listen to. His poetry was witty, intellectual, sometimes psychedelic and thought-provoking. I tabbed so many of my pages, just collecting my favourite poems from this collection, because there were so many. I do believe that knowing the context behind many of the poems was vital to understanding the content, which made some poems hard to decipher. It felt as if these poems weren't made for the public, but were rather the inner musings of this complex man's life. The poems were packed full of feelings of desire, longing, sensuality as well as the effects of aging. Altogether, I really enjoyed reading these poems and feel as if I've gained a different sort of understanding of this artist. I was truly touched at some of the poems, and have already re-read them multiple times. In stark contrast, some of his poems were brutally honest about his feelings on money, success and women; which gave this book a sense of honesty. The poems were not sugar-coated, much like with his lyrics. It was rather cynical, but some were also very Zen, reflecting his time as a Monk. As you can see, I'm having a difficult time explaining these poem as one entity, because they're all so different. It's also hard to bunch the themes of the collection into a few sentences, but I'm trying. The poems are also accompanied by drawings that range from sallow portraits of Leonard, to erotic sketches and even drawings of birds. In all, this was a seemingly private exploration of the world through the mind of an artist who sees things sometimes in humour and sometimes with cynicism. Of the entire collection my favourite poems were: You'd Sing Too, My Mother is not Dead, My Time (below) and Pardon Me. "My time is running outand stillI have nog sungThe true songThe great songI admitThat I seemTo have lost my courageA glance at the mirrorA glimpse into my heartMakes me wantTo shut up foreverSo why do you lean me hereLord of my lifeLean me at this tableIn the middle of the nightWonderingHow to be beautiful"-My Time

Outros EscritoresSteve Sanfield é um grande mestre do haiku.Vive no campo com Sarah,a sua bela esposa,e escreve sobre as pequenas coisasque representam todas as coisas.Kyozan Joshu Roshi,que conduziu centenas de mongesa um despertar absoluto,dedica-se à expansãoe contracção simultâneasdo cosmos.Eu discorro continuamentesobre uma nobre raparigaque desapertou as calças de gangano banco da frente do meu jipee me deixou tocara fonte da vidapor eu me encontrar tão longe dela.Tenho a dizer-vos, amigos,que prefiro as minhas cenas às deles.Página 15

I don’t know about you, but since lockdown started I’ve really struggled to read anything. My scattered brain keeps wandering off to poke and worry at other things, and suddenly books I’d normally tear through are being read over months instead. I’m really missing my escapes into books and so, in an attempt to get my reading mojo back, I turned to the poetry of one of my favourites.I’ve been a fan of Leonard Cohen for a very long time so it was no surprise that the Book of Longing, containing poetry, lyrics, and illustrations ruminating on love, sex, aging, spirituality and more that all display his customary wryness, really floated my boat. I’m not normally a particular fan of poetry – I’d much rather listen to a song – but the fact that it was Leonard’s words I was reading helped me to give it more of a chance, while the fact that each piece lasted no longer than my shattered attention span could manage certainly helped to make my lunch breaks much, much better.You can almost hear that wonderfully gravelly voice murmuring these words to you as you turn the pages, and even amidst the sadness and disappointment I’ve been feeling as some of the people in my life reveal themselves not to be who I thought they were, he still managed to make me smile. Life’s not always easy, but Leonard Cohen always manages to make me feel that even when things are at their darkest there is always, to paraphrase one of his songs, a crack that lets the light in.**Also posted at Cannonball Read**

I expected this to be just like his songs are, but it's even better. It has the same mix of self-irony, spirituality, and eroticism, and reads just like a journal. He even has a poem dedicated to his diary, and it feels like he's talking to the actual book you're reading.It's nice that the poems reflect some of the events of his life, too, especially his time experimenting with Buddhism and living in a monastery, trying to find a deeper spirituality, and falling just short of it. The regular desires and disillusions, those he was so apt at writing about, are responsible for preventing his full immersion into the zen lifestyle, and I think we're all lucky not to have 'lost' him to it.I also loved the little doodles and self-portraits scribbled in between poems, throughout the book. They're fragile and beautiful, sometimes a bit sarcastic too, and most of the time playful. I also like how the collection also includes a little introduction he wrote for Chinese readers for one of his previous books, Beautiful Losers. That intro is so beautiful that it definitely deserved to be counted as a poem in itself, so including it makes total sense. Not that the volume is all poetry (and drawings), mind you. Lyrical prose excerpts are also a thing. You have to just read for yourself, one beautiful page at a time. The pervading theme throughout the entire collection is, of course, longing, the feeling Cohen is so adept at projecting. It's not all erotic longing, either, but also the more elusive varieties of spiritual longing, longing after a previous version of yourself that's been irreversibly lost, and so on.Here are some of my favorite bits, and which are generally less well-known. (I don't need to quote the beautiful lyrics to A Thousand Kisses Deep, for example, which are included in this collection - in both versions). “I followed the courseFrom chaos to artDesire the horseDepression the cart”-----------------------HOW COULD I HAVE DOUBTEDI stopped looking for youI stopped waiting for youI stopped dying for youand I started dying for myselfI aged rapidlyI became fat in the faceand soft in the gutand I forgot that I’d ever loved youI was oldI had no focus, no missionI wandered around eating and buyingbigger and bigger clothesand I forgot why I hatedevery long moment that was mine to fillWhy did you come back to me tonightI can’t even get off this chairTears run down my cheeksI am in love againI can live like this------------------------------“I was one of the things that was put into Jana. Once you have been put in, you have been put in forever. That is love. Sometimes it is greater than Death, sometimes smaller, sometimes the same size.”-------------------------------SPLITWhat can I dowith this love of minewith this hairy knobwith this poison wineWho shall I taketo the edge of despairwith my knee on her heartand my lips in her hairSo I’ll take all my loveand I’ll split it in twoand there’s one part for meand there’s one part for youAnd we’ll drink the wineand we’ll hide the staffand the lover will groanand the other will laughAnd I’ll go to your bedand I’ll lie by your sideand I’ll bury the bonesand I’ll marry the brideAnd you’ll do the samewhen you come to my roomYou’ll dig in my dirtand you’ll bury the groomAnd I swear by this lovewhich is living and deadthat we will be separateand we will be wed------------------------LOOKING AWAYyou would look at meand it never occurred to methat you might be choosingthe man of your lifeyou would look at meover the bottles and the corpsesand I thoughtyou must be playing with meyou must think I’m crazy enoughto step behind your eyesinto the open elevator shaftso I looked awayand I waiteduntil you became a palm treeor a crowor the vast grey ocean of windor the vast grey ocean of mindnow look at memarried to everyone but you------------------------“I gave her something prettyAnd I waited ’til she laughedI wasn’t born a gypsyTo make a woman sad”-------------------------BECAUSE OF A FEW SONGSBecause of a few songswherein I spoke of their mystery,women have beenexceptionally kindto my old age.They make a secret placein their busy livesand they take me there.They become nakedin their different waysand they say,“Look at me, Leonardlook at me one last time.”Then they bend over the bedand cover me uplike a baby that is shivering.------------------------“I want to love you nowI want to love you thenI want to love you neverAnd then begin againAll the tassels of my beltGo flying in the skyWhen you bend down to laugh at meFrom your place on highI want to be the foolThe one you send awayAfter you have used him upEvery second dayI want to be the roseYou beckon with a yawnLimping on a thorny crutchAcross the burning lawnSee what you have done to meAs if you give a shitI used to live behind a lineBut now I’m over itI won’t come back to say goodbyeI’ll never leave your sideUntil I am the other manAnd you are someone’s brideSit down on my memoryWhen you are in painWhen you are in pleasureSit down on it again”.

Leonard Cohen was a Jew who became a Zen monk who wrote songs and poems about Jesus for fifty years. He was also the absolute embodiment of what it means to be a writer. Book of Longing is alive with Leonard’s nights and days in the monastery on Mt. Baldy, featuring 230 pages of poems and drawings, most of those pages blackened during his time as a monk. I learned to write poetry from reading and re-reading the poems in this book. I studied his work for meter and stress. I tried to figure out how he could’ve written such lines that burn with luminous intensity. Frequently, I’ll find myself in a situation where a stray line or phrase will drift through my thoughts… After publication, a few of the poems here later became lyrics on some of Leonard’s final albums. Songs like the dark and stunning “Nevermind” had their beginning in Book of Longing.The artwork mostly falls into two categories: unflattering self-portraits and naked ladies. As someone who has drawn the occasional unflattering self-portrait and a naked lady or two, I enjoyed them very much. If you’re a Cotton Mather-type, however, you may not. Some of the other reviewers have been harsh about the inclusion of “weaker” poems. They don’t seem to understand that the volume functions, in part, as a psychological chronicle of Leonard’s time on Mt. Baldy. Which means that an utter masterpiece like “Alexandra Leaving” may appear alongside a more off-the-cuff, stream of consciousness journal entry like “Food Tastes Good.” To me, that’s one more reason to love this book—it’s a revelation of Leonard’s life and state of mind during those years.Book of Longing is my favorite volume of poetry and Leonard Cohen is my favorite poet. If you’re a fan of his music but haven’t given any of his poetry a try, this is the perfect place to start.—Sincerely, M. McNabb

The Book of Longing is a compilation of poems and sketches from Leonard Cohen's 'earlier poet days' and written during his time in a Buddhist monastery. They are poems of reflection, observation and personal experience being a man. As always, Mr. Cohen's poetry is poignant, playful, tongue-in-cheek, self-deprecating, brooding and enlightening. These poems are less lyrical, and closer to abstract musings, lending us glimpses or snapshots into his younger male life and comparing or lamenting his youth with his current, older self; longing for things spent, gone or lost. A few poems left me with a chuckle from the surprise ending: an intimate proclamation, or something sexual. Honestly, my first thought was "Leonard Cohen is a dirty old man!" but it is far from the truth -- the truth is that he is a man and, of course, his younger self still exists in him. We all encompass a body memory, and hold tight to a moment in time that altered or awoke us. Leonard's poems are a gift, a sharing of pieces of himself. We are fortunate to have him.

I'm not a huge fan of poetry, and I find most of it pretty alienating and annoying, but Cohen has such a lovely tone, and doesn't seek to be "clever" by being obtuse. Which means his poetry actually says something to me (and makes sense: I can understand what he's saying, or relate to it, or interpret it), which makes it something worth treasuring :)Also, I love his drawings and sketches!

THOUSANDSOut of the thousandswho are known,or who want to be knownas poets,maybe one or twoare genuineand the rest are fakes,hanging around the sacred precinctstrying to look like the real thing.Needless to sayI am one of the fakes,and this is my story.”

Ein Band der mich nach wie vor begeistert und mir etwas Mut und Hoffnung in Dunklen Zeiten gibt.Leonard Cohen: Buch der SehnsüchteBuch der SehnsüchteIch komm nicht mehr hochDas System ist bankrottIch lebe von PillenDafür danke ich GottVon Chaos und KunstFolge ich meiner SpurBegehren seit JahrenDepression meine KurFlog wie ein SteinSank wie ein SteinZeit ist vergangenGelächter wird seinZu weiß war das BlattDie Tinte so dünnWas flüstert die NachtIst am Tag dahinMein Tier heultDer Engel schnaubtMich selbst bedauernIst mir nicht erlaubtEine wird nehmenWas ich nicht binMein Herz gehört ihrIch bin nicht darinSie wird den Weg findenWird sehen, was ich meineMein Wille halbiertIn Freiheit alleineSchneller MomentKollision zweier LebenDie Tür weit offenEwig von wegenSie wird geborenFür einen wie dichWas keiner vermochteVermag sie, und ichWeiß jetzt, dass sie kommtUnd ich weiß, sie sieht gutUnd dies ist die SehnsuchtUnd das ist das Buch(S.7)SaharaDu hast recht sahara. es gibt keine Nebel, keine Masken, keine Distanzen. Nebel ist nur von Nebel umgeben; Maske versteckt sich hinter Maske; Distanz entfernt sich von Distanz.Deshalb gibt es keine Nebel, keine Masken, keine Distanzen. Und deshalb nennt man dies Die Große Distanz zwischen Nebel und Maske. Und genau hier verwandelt sich Der Reisende in Den Wanderer, und Der Wanderer wird Der, Der Verloren Ist, und Der, Der Verloren ist, wird Der Sucher, und Der Sucher wird Der Liebende Aus Passion, und der Liebende aus Passion wird Der Bettler, und Der Bettler wird Der Schuft, und Der Schuft wird Der, Der Der Auferstandene ist, und Der, Der Auferstanden ist, wird Der, Der Die große Distanz zwischen Nebel und Maske überwunden hat. Dann, für die nächsten tausend Jahre, oder zumindest für den Rest des Nachmittags, wird sich So-Einer ins Lodernde Feuer Der Veränderung werfen, alle Umwandlungen verkörpernd, eine um die andere, und dann von vorne beginnen und wieder enden, 86000-Mal in der Sekunde. Dann wird So-Einer, wenn er ein Mann ist, bereit sein, Sahara, die Frau, zu lieben; und wird So-Eine, wenn sie eine Frau ist, bereit sein, Sahara, die Frau, zu lieben; und wird So-Eine, wenn sie eine Frau ist, bereit sein, den Mann zu lieben, der in der Lage ist, Die Große Distanz zwischen Nebel und Maske in ein Lied zu verwandeln. Bist du es, die noch wartet, Sahara, oder bin ich es?(S. 49)UnpassendEs ist unpassenddich anzutreffenin einem Amüsierlokalwo du vergessen willst:das bisschen Grauender letzten Millionen Jahre.Am meisten missfälltmir die Geige, die wackerankrächzt gegendas Massakerals ließe sich daraus schließen:die Killer sind schwachund die Opfer werden siegen.Das kompliziert den Albdruckmit einem TraumEs stülpt den Abtraumeinwärts.Fort mit der Fiedel.Und lass deine Courage stecken.Hast du nicht gemerktdass die Mörderund Blutsäuferdavon angelockt werden.Sie sehen darineine Herausforderung.Gib es zurück - den Steinen,dem Schlamm, demwas den den Schlamm bindet.Beende das hässliche Experimentmit dem menschlichen Herzen.Erzähl mir bitte nie mehrvon der einsamen Bahnstationwo wir einander entblößtenin einem Hagel von Apfelkernen.Und diese Stimme, verständnisvollohne zu begreifen - erfahre die tiefe Erniedrigungdie das Schweigen der Gezeitendir nicht anerkennt.Steh daim eitlen Wahndeiner Einsamkeit.bemüh die flüchtigen Tränendas seichte Lachendie Tröstungendie deinem Leiden gehorchenund dir schönreden das Verlieren.Steh daerschaudernd und stolzdu mit den hohen Brüstenin den erotischen Fummelnder Frömmigkeit.Ich hoffe aufrichtigwir müssen einander nicht mehrbegegnenbei einem weiteren Amüsement.(S. 80)Wenn ich dir helfen könnteWenn ich dir helfen könnte, Freund,ehrlich, ich würde es tun:Für dich betenDeine Rückenmuskulatur stärkenMit dir auf die Brücke gehen,die alle so schön findenUnd gäbe es die geringste Aussicht,dass es dir gefälltwürde ich dir das Motorrad da schenken.Wenn du Sänger wärst, würde ichdeine Songs in die Musikbox bringenIch würde dir helfen, den Rissin deinem Leben zu überwinden,für dich ein zweites Mal sterben am Kreuz -all das würde ich für dich tun,weil ich Herr über dein Leben bin;aber du hast dich so von mir entferntdass ich dich hier auf Papier beehren willmit meinen flüchtigsten Eigenschaften.Du wolltest tapfer sein, dir treu bleiben.Also, hol tief Luftund beginne dein großes Abenteuermit lähmender Einsamkeit.Das grosse DingensBald ist es soweit. Dann findet es statt. Das große Dingens, das Schluss macht mit aller Schrecknis. Das Schluss macht mit aller Trauer. Kommenden Dienstag, bei Sonnenuntergang, werde ich die Mondscheinsonate rückwärts spielen. Das wird all jene Effekte umkehren, die unsere Welt seit 200 Millionen Jahren im Leid versinken lassen. Was für eine besondere schöne Nacht wird das sein, was für ein Ausatmen wird das geben! Lange schon vergreiste Rotkehlchen werden ihr erneut strahlendes Gefieder aufplustern und die bereits in Rente befindlichen Nachtigallen wern ihre verstaubten Schwanzfedern erneut aufstecken - und all das zum Lob der Schöpfung!Alles, was sich auf …Alles, was sich auf die Sache bezieht, ist weit vom Ziel. Eine Inkompetenz in der Relevanz wäre zu entdecken als Muskel der Erlösung, der jedochso selten wie möglich gespielt und eingesetzt wird. Die Ökonomie der Verzweiflung muss anerkannt werden. Wir brauchen Kunst nicht sehr oft. Hin und wieder lasst sie ihrer Unterbekleidung entsteigen. Eine kleine Menge reicht sehr weit. Im Moment ist das Große Bild (oder der Bloße Kilt) allein mithilfe des Lockeren Kanons (Kecke Lehnens)zugänglich, des Gleitenden Moleküls, des Karzinogenen Radikalen. apres moin, die Rückkehr zur klassischen Proportion. Meine Geistesgesundheit ist ein Ansteckungsatom.Obwohl wir seit einigen Minuten nicht mehr geraucht haben, sind wir versucht, den Barman um eine aus seiner eigenen Schachtel zu bitten. Konzentrieren wir uns auf den Schwindel, der erzeugt wird, indem sich nach und nach den Glasplattenfenstern entgegengenähert wird, die alles sind, was uns daran hindert, zwölf Stockwerke tief in die Bucht von Bengal zu stützen.

This is my first collection of Leonard Cohen's poetry, and I just have to say WOW. It's definitely not consistently great---there are plenty of poem fragments and sort of whiny indulgent longer pieces---but when it is, it really IS. Some of these meditations on sex and death and salvation and aging and religion/spirituality took my breath away.I listened to Leonard read me these poems in his own voice which added to their effect x1000, but I really want to get a copy with his illustrations as well. Maybe I'll read along with him while looking at the pictures.

I truly adore Cohen, I think he is most and foremost a poet, a brilliant one. I love his music and the inevitable poetry that you get with it. This book is beautiful, the poems are sad, ironic, raw. It is truly one of the best poetry compilations I've read, the reason I'm giving it four stars is because, in the middle of stunning poems, you'd get the occasional one that just seemed uninspired. Strongly recomend it.