Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen
You stay in the grove
To ambush the unicorn.
I don't know what the hunters gave,
But all the money of the sun
Falling between the shadows of your face
In yellow coin,
Could not bribe away the scorn
Which fastens up your mouth.
For whom are those hard lips?
The hunters creeping through the green
Beside their iron-collared hounds,
Or that towered head who soon
Will close his eyes
Between your aproned knees?
And when the animal is leashed
To the pomegranate tree,
Don't come by my prison room,
Singing your victory,
Or charm the guards to untie the chains
With which I was bound before the hunt,
When I cried I was a man.
You stay in the grove
To ambush the unicorn.
And after wander to the poisoned stream
Which the unicorn will never clean,
And greet the good beasts thirsting there,
Then follow through the holes and caves
The animals who poisoned it,
And cohabit in each lair.
I don't know what the hunters gave,
But all the money of the sun
Falling between the shadows of your face
In yellow coin,
Could not bribe away the scorn
Which fastens up your mouth.
The Unicorn Tapestries was written by Leonard Cohen.