Cohen pursued a career as a poet and novelist during the 1950s and early 1960s; he did not launch a music career until 1967, at the age of 33. His first album, Songs of Leonard Cohen (1967), was followed by three more albums of folk music: Songs from a Room (1969), Songs of Love and Hate (1971) and New Skin for the Old Ceremony (1974). His 1977 record Death of a Ladies' Man, co-written and produced by Phil Spector, was a move away from Cohen's previous minimalist sound. In 1979, Cohen returned with the more traditional Recent Songs, which blended his acoustic style with jazz, Oriental, and Mediterranean influences. Perhaps Cohen's most famous song, "Hallelujah", was first released on his studio album Various Positions in 1984. I'm Your Man in 1988 marked Cohen's turn to synthesized productions and remains his most popular album. In 1992, Cohen released its follow-up, The Future, which had dark lyrics and references to political and social unrest.
Cohen returned to music in 2001 with the release of Ten New Songs, which was a major hit in Canada and Europe. His 11th album, Dear Heather, followed in 2004. Following a successful string of tours between 2008 and 2013, Cohen released three albums in the final four years of his life: Old Ideas (2012), Popular Problems (2014) and You Want It Darker (2016), the last of which was released three weeks before his death.
Leonard Cohen was born into a middle-class Jewish family in Westmount, Quebec, on September 21, 1934. His Lithuanian mother, Marsha Klonitsky ("Masha"; 1905–1978), was the daughter of a Talmudic writer, Rabbi Solomon Klonitsky-Kline, and emigrated to Canada in 1927. His paternal grandfather, whose family had moved from Poland to Canada, was Lyon Cohen, the founding president of the Canadian Jewish Congress. His father, Nathan Bernard Cohen (1891–1943), who owned a substantial clothing store, died when Cohen was nine years old. The family observed Orthodox Judaism, and belonged to Congregation Shaar Hashomayim, to which Cohen retained connections for the rest of his life. On the topic of being a Kohen, Cohen told Richard Goldstein in 1967, "I had a very Messianic childhood. I was told I was a descendant of Aaron, the high priest."
Cohen attended Roslyn Elementary School and completed grades seven through nine at Herzliah High School, where his literary mentor Irving Layton taught, then transferred in 1948 to Westmount High School, where he studied music and poetry. He became especially interested in the poetry of Federico García Lorca. Cohen involved himself actively beyond Westmount's curriculum, in photography, on the yearbook staff, as a cheerleader, in the arts and current events clubs, and even served in the position of president of the Students' Council while "heavily involved in the school's theater program". During that time, Cohen taught himself to play the acoustic guitar, and formed a country–folk group that he called the Buckskin Boys. After a young Spanish guitar player taught him "a few chords and some flamenco", Cohen switched to a classical guitar. He has attributed his love of music to his mother, who sang songs around the house: "I know that those changes, those melodies, touched me very much. She would sing with us when I took my guitar to a restaurant with some friends; my mother would come, and we'd often sing all night.
Cohen frequented Saint Laurent Boulevard for fun and ate at such places as the Main Deli Steak House. According to journalist David Sax, Cohen and one of his cousins would go to the Main Deli to "watch the gangsters, pimps, and wrestlers dance around the night". Cohen enjoyed the formerly raucous bars of Old Montreal as well as Saint Joseph's Oratory, which had the restaurant nearest to Westmount, for him and his friend Mort Rosengarten to share coffee and cigarettes. When Cohen left Westmount, he purchased a place on Saint-Laurent Boulevard, in the previously working-class neighbourhood of Little Portugal. He would read his poetry at assorted nearby clubs. In that period and that place, Cohen wrote the lyrics to some of his most famous songs.
The Night of Santiago
Leonard Cohen Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
That wasn't what I heard
For the sake of conversation
I took her at her word
The lights went out behind us
The fireflies undressed
The broken sidewalk ended
I touched her sleeping breasts
Like lilies from the dead
Behind a fine embroidery
Her nipples rose like bread
Then I took off my necktie
And she took of her dress
My belt and pistol, set aside, we tore away the rest
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do
Her thighs, they slipped away from me
Like schools of startled fish
Though I've forgotten half my life
I still remember this
Now, as a man I won't repeat
The things she said aloud
Except for this, my lips are sealed forever
And for now
And soon there's sand in every kiss
And soon the dawn is ready
And soon the night surrenders
To a daffodil machete
I gave her something pretty
And I waited till she laughed
I wasn't born a gypsy
To make a woman sad
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago (night of Santiago)
And I was passing through (I was passing through)
I took her to the river
As any man would do
I didn't fall in love
Of course, it's never up to you
But she was walking back and forth
And I was passing through
When I took her to the river
In her virginal apparel
When I took her to the river
On that night of Santiago
And yes she lied about it all
Her children and her husband
You were born to judge the world
Forgive me, but I wasn't
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago (night of Santiago)
And I was passing through (I was passing through)
I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago (night of Santiago)
And I was passing through (I was passing through)
So I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through (I was passing through)
So I took her to the river
As any man would do
Leonard Cohen's "The Night of Santiago" is a poetic and provocative exploration of desire and fleeting intimacy. The lyrics describe a chance encounter between the singer and a woman he meets on the titular night in Santiago. The woman claims to be a virgin, but the singer implies that she is not. Nevertheless, he takes her at her word and the two of them engage in a sexual encounter, shedding their clothes as they do so.
The singer's descriptions of the encounter are sensual and vivid, from the fireflies undressing to the way the woman's nipples rise "like bread". The emphasis is on the physicality of the encounter, with the singer describing the urgent opening of the woman's body to him like lilies from the dead. The encounter is fleeting, however, with the dawn soon breaking and the night surrendering to a "daffodil machete". In the end, the singer gives the woman something pretty and waits until she laughs, insisting that he wasn't born a gypsy to make a woman sad.
Despite the physical nature of the encounter, the singer insists that he didn't fall in love with the woman. He implies that she lied to him about her life situation, but he doesn't judge her for it. Instead, he takes her to the river as any man would, emphasizing the universal nature of the desires and impulses that drive human beings.
Overall, "The Night of Santiago" is a complex and nuanced exploration of desire and intimacy. It resists easy interpretation, and the tension between the sensuality of the encounter and the singer's insistence on his emotional detachment creates an intriguing ambiguity.
Line by Line Meaning
She said she was a maiden
The woman claimed to be a virgin
That wasn't what I heard
The singer did not believe the woman's claim
For the sake of conversation
The singer played along with her story
I took her at her word
The artist pretended to believe her
The lights went out behind us
It became dark outside
The fireflies undressed
The fireflies became visible in the dark
The broken sidewalk ended
The sidewalk ended
I touched her sleeping breasts
The artist touched the woman's breasts while she was asleep
They opened to me urgently
The woman's breasts responded to the artist's touch
Like lilies from the dead
Her breasts looked beautiful and fresh like flowers
Behind a fine embroidery
Her breasts were covered by a delicate fabric
Her nipples rose like bread
Her nipples became erect
Then I took off my necktie
The singer removed his necktie
And she took of her dress
The woman took off her dress
My belt and pistol set aside
The singer put his belt and gun away
We tore away the rest
The artist and the woman had sex
Her thighs, they slipped away from me
The woman's legs moved during sex
Like schools of startled fish
Her legs moved in a quick and unpredictable manner
Though I've forgotten half my life
The singer has forgotten many details of his life
I still remember this
The artist remembers having sex with the woman
Now, as a man I won't repeat
The artist will not reveal what the woman said during sex
The things she said aloud
The woman spoke during sex
Except for this, my lips are sealed forever
The singer will keep the woman's words secret
And for now
At the moment
And soon there's sand in every kiss
The singer and the woman kissed on the beach
And soon the dawn is ready
Morning is approaching
And soon the night surrenders
Nighttime is ending
To a daffodil machete
The sun is compared to a sword made of flowers
I gave her something pretty
The artist gave the woman a gift
And I waited till she laughed
The singer waited for the woman to appreciate the gift
I wasn't born a gypsy
The singer is not a wandering person
To make a woman sad
The artist does not want to hurt women
But she was walking back and forth
The woman was pacing
When I took her to the river
The artist brought the woman to the water
In her virginal apparel
The woman was still dressed as if she were a virgin
And yes she lied about it all
The woman had lied about being a virgin, having children, and having a husband
Her children and her husband
The woman had claimed to have them, but she did not
You were born to judge the world
The singer is not meant to judge others
Forgive me but I wasn't
The singer does not want to judge the woman
So I took her to the river
The artist and the woman went to the water
As any man would do
The artist implies that any man in his position would have done the same
Lyrics © MUSIC SALES CORPORATION, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Written by: Leonard Cohen, Philip Glass, Adam Cohen
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@bwahahaha999
@@mwbela Lorca's poem, Cohen's inspiration:
THE INFIDEL CASADA
And that I took her to the river
believing that she was a girl,
but she had a husband.
It was the night of Santiago
and almost by compromise.
The lanterns went out
and the crickets were lit.
In the last corners
I touched her sleeping breasts,
and they suddenly opened to me
like bouquets of hyacinths.
The starch in her petticoat
it sounded in my ear,
like a piece of silk
torn by ten knives.
No silver light in their glasses
the trees have grown,
and a horizon of dogs
barks far from the river.
*
Past the blackberries,
the reeds and thorns,
under her head of hair
I made a hole in the slime
I took off my tie.
She took off her dress.
I belt with revolver.
She hers hers four bustiers of hers.
Neither tuberose nor shells
their skin is so fine,
nor the crystals with moon
they shine with that brilliance.
Her thighs escaped me
like surprised fish,
half full of fire,
half full of cold.
That night i ran
the best of roads,
mounted on mother-of-pearl filly
without flanges and without stirrups.
I don't mean, by man,
the things she told me.
The light of understanding
It makes me very restrained.
Dirty with kisses and sand
I took her from the river.
With the air they fought
the swords of the lilies.
I behaved like what I am.
Like a real gypsy.
I gave her a sewing box
large straw satin,
and I didn't want to fall in love
because having a husband
she told me that she was a girl
when he took her to the river.
@bwahahaha999
@@kostasbr51 It is not a "translation. It was inspire by Lorca. Here is the translation of Lorca's:
THE INFIDEL CASADA
And that I took her to the river
believing that she was a girl,
but she had a husband.
It was the night of Santiago
and almost by compromise.
The lanterns went out
and the crickets were lit.
In the last corners
I touched her sleeping breasts,
and they suddenly opened to me
like bouquets of hyacinths.
The starch in her petticoat
it sounded in my ear,
like a piece of silk
torn by ten knives.
No silver light in their glasses
the trees have grown,
and a horizon of dogs
barks far from the river.
*
Past the blackberries,
the reeds and thorns,
under her head of hair
I made a hole in the slime
I took off my tie.
She took off her dress.
I belt with revolver.
She hers hers four bustiers of hers.
Neither tuberose nor shells
their skin is so fine,
nor the crystals with moon
they shine with that brilliance.
Her thighs escaped me
like surprised fish,
half full of fire,
half full of cold.
That night i ran
the best of roads,
mounted on mother-of-pearl filly
without flanges and without stirrups.
I don't mean, by man,
the things she told me.
The light of understanding
It makes me very restrained.
Dirty with kisses and sand
I took her from the river.
With the air they fought
the swords of the lilies.
I behaved like what I am.
Like a real gypsy.
I gave her a sewing box
large straw satin,
and I didn't want to fall in love
because having a husband
she told me that she was a girl
when he took her to the river.
@joao.nuno.valente_
She said she was a maiden
That wasn't what I heard
For the sake of conversation
I took her at her word
The lights went out behind us
The fireflies undressed
The broken sidewalk ended
I touched her sleeping breasts
They opened to me urgently
Likelilies from the dead
Behind a fine embroidery
Her nipples rose like bread
Then I took of my necktie
And she took of her dress
My belt and pistol set aside
We tore away the rest
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do
Her thighs they slipped away from me
Like schools of startled fish
Though I've forgotten half my life
I still remember this
Now, as a man I won't repeat
The things she said aloud
Except for this, my lips are sealed forever
And for now
And soon there's sand in every kiss
And soon the dawn is ready
And soon the night surrenders
To a daffodil machete
I gave her something pretty
And I waited till she laughed
I wasn't born a gypsy
To make a women sad
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do
I didn't fall in love of course
It's never up to you
But she was walking back and forth
And I was passing through
When I took her to the river
In her virginal apparel
When I took her to the river
On that night of Santiago
And yes she lied about it all
Her children and her husband
You were born to judge the world
Forgive me but I wasn't
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do
@dunhillan8360
Leonard Cohen - The Night of Santiago
She said she was a maiden
That wasn't what I heard
For the sake of conversation
I took her at her word
The lights went out behind us
The fireflies undressed
The broken sidewalk ended
I touched her sleeping breasts
They opened to me urgently
Like lilies from the dead
Behind a fine embroidery
Her nipples rose like bread
Then I took off my necktie
And she took of her dress
My belt and pistol set aside
We tore away the rest
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do
Her thighs, they slipped away from me
Like schools of startled fish
Though I've forgotten half my life
I still remember this
Now, as a man I won't repeat
The things she said aloud
Except for this, my lips are sealed forever
And for now
And soon there's sand in every kiss
And soon the dawn is ready
And soon the night surrenders
To a daffodil machete
I gave her something pretty
And I waited till she laughed
I wasn't born a gypsy
To make a woman sad
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do
I didn't fall in love of course
It's never up to you
But she was walking back and forth
And I was passing through
When I took her to the river
In her virginal apparel
When I took her to the river
On that night of Santiago
And yes she lied about it all
Her children and her husband
You were born to judge the world
Forgive me but I wasn't
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do
The night of Santiago
And I was passing through
So I took her to the river
As any man would do
Y que yo me la llevé al río
creyendo que era mozuela,
pero tenía marido.
Fue la noche de Santiago
y casi por compromiso.
Se apagaron los faroles
y se encendieron los grillos.
En las últimas esquinas
toqué sus pechos dormidos,
y se me abrieron de pronto
como ramos de jacintos.
El almidón de su enagua
me sonaba en el oído,
como una pieza de seda
rasgada por diez cuchillos.
Sin luz de plata en sus copas
los árboles han crecido,
y un horizonte de perros
ladra muy lejos del río.
*
Pasadas las zarzamoras,
los juncos y los espinos,
bajo su mata de pelo
hice un hoyo sobre el limo.
Yo me quité la corbata.
Ella se quitó el vestido.
Yo el cinturón con revólver.
Ella sus cuatro corpiños.
Ni nardos ni caracolas
tienen el cutis tan fino,
ni los cristales con luna
relumbran con ese brillo.
Sus muslos se me escapaban
como peces sorprendidos,
la mitad llenos de lumbre,
la mitad llenos de frío.
Aquella noche corrí
el mejor de los caminos,
montado en potra de nácar
sin bridas y sin estribos.
No quiero decir, por hombre,
las cosas que ella me dijo.
La luz del entendimiento
me hace ser muy comedido.
Sucia de besos y arena
yo me la llevé del río.
Con el aire se batían
las espadas de los lirios.
Me porté como quien soy.
Como un gitano legítimo.
Le regalé un costurero
grande de raso pajizo,
y no quise enamorarme
porque teniendo marido
me dijo que era mozuela
cuando la llevaba al río.
@yesbabyji68
At his 'Lethal Best' x <3
She said she was a maiden
That wasn’t what I heard
For the sake of conversation
I took her at her word
The lights went out behind us
The fireflies undressed
The broken sidewalk ended
I touched her sleeping breasts
They opened to me urgently
Like lilies from the dead
Behind a fine embroidery
Her nipples rose like bread
Then I took of my necktie
And she took of her dress
My belt and pistol set aside
We tore away the rest
x
@bwahahaha999
Cohen was inspired by Lorca's poem. They are his original verses.
His adaptation isn't a mere "translation". This is:
THE INFIDEL CASADA
And that I took her to the river
believing that she was a girl,
but she had a husband.
It was the night of Santiago
and almost by compromise.
The lanterns went out
and the crickets were lit.
In the last corners
I touched her sleeping breasts,
and they suddenly opened to me
like bouquets of hyacinths.
The starch in her petticoat
it sounded in my ear,
like a piece of silk
torn by ten knives.
No silver light in their glasses
the trees have grown,
and a horizon of dogs
barks far from the river.
*
Past the blackberries,
the reeds and thorns,
under her head of hair
I made a hole in the slime
I took off my tie.
She took off her dress.
I belt with revolver.
She hers hers four bustiers of hers.
Neither tuberose nor shells
their skin is so fine,
nor the crystals with moon
they shine with that brilliance.
Her thighs escaped me
like surprised fish,
half full of fire,
half full of cold.
That night i ran
the best of roads,
mounted on mother-of-pearl filly
without flanges and without stirrups.
I don't mean, by man,
the things she told me.
The light of understanding
It makes me very restrained.
Dirty with kisses and sand
I took her from the river.
With the air they fought
the swords of the lilies.
I behaved like what I am.
Like a real gypsy.
I gave her a sewing box
large straw satin,
and I didn't want to fall in love
because having a husband
she told me that she was a girl
when he took her to the river.
@kostasbr51
"¡Ay, qué blanca la triste casada!
¡Ay, cómo se queja entre las ramas!
Amapola y clavel será luego
cuando el macho despliegue su capa".
.
"Si tú vienes a la romería
a pedir que tu vientre se abra
no te pongas un velo de luto
sino dulce camisa de holanda".
.
(F. G. Lorca: "La romería")
.
@vanadour33
Quand nous bavons franchi les ronces
les épines et les ajoncs,
Sous elle son chignon s'enfonce
Et fait un trou dans le limon....
......................................................
Ses cuisses s'enfuyaient sous moi
Comme des truites effrayées
Une moitié tout embrasée,
L'autre moitié pleine de froid.
...........................................
Sale de baisers et de sable,
Du bord de l'eau je la sortis;
les iris balançaient leurs sabres
Contre les brises de la nuit.
..........................................
@fractiousperson303
I can't quite articulate why, but for Leonard to record this beautiful, funny, erotic, and relentlessly alive reworking of the similarly immortal Lorca's poem, it brings tears to my eyes. The whole album is a psalm to life and a meditation on death, not quite raging against the dying of the light, but not dying quietly and fading away either. Something about the dying, 82 year old Leonard, too weak to play guitar, singing a panegyric to sultry Spanish nights featuring the nipples that "rose like bread" of a diplomatically-fictional maiden, is an embodiment of the power of life and of the soul that makes me feel strong but unnameable emotions.
@milamihaylova-blagoeva9909
❤
@Jack-gi5zf
Long live Lorca and long live Leonard! For those of you curious, this song is based upon the poem "The unfaithful Housewife" by Federico Garcia Lorca, the Spanish poet after whom Leonard named his daughter. I never knew Leonard had an affinity for this poem in particular, and hearing him recreate it in his own image is such a treat <3
@mwbela
Jack thanks for this explanation, it’s lovely, and the song is beyond that
@bwahahaha999
@@mwbela Lorca's poem, Cohen's inspiration:
THE INFIDEL CASADA
And that I took her to the river
believing that she was a girl,
but she had a husband.
It was the night of Santiago
and almost by compromise.
The lanterns went out
and the crickets were lit.
In the last corners
I touched her sleeping breasts,
and they suddenly opened to me
like bouquets of hyacinths.
The starch in her petticoat
it sounded in my ear,
like a piece of silk
torn by ten knives.
No silver light in their glasses
the trees have grown,
and a horizon of dogs
barks far from the river.
*
Past the blackberries,
the reeds and thorns,
under her head of hair
I made a hole in the slime
I took off my tie.
She took off her dress.
I belt with revolver.
She hers hers four bustiers of hers.
Neither tuberose nor shells
their skin is so fine,
nor the crystals with moon
they shine with that brilliance.
Her thighs escaped me
like surprised fish,
half full of fire,
half full of cold.
That night i ran
the best of roads,
mounted on mother-of-pearl filly
without flanges and without stirrups.
I don't mean, by man,
the things she told me.
The light of understanding
It makes me very restrained.
Dirty with kisses and sand
I took her from the river.
With the air they fought
the swords of the lilies.
I behaved like what I am.
Like a real gypsy.
I gave her a sewing box
large straw satin,
and I didn't want to fall in love
because having a husband
she told me that she was a girl
when he took her to the river.
@LadyBird791
And Adam . And Anjani. All if u too.
@LadyBird791
@@bwahahaha999 🌹❤️
@nikolaspareschi
It is the same "woman" as in Suzzane. The holy Church. Jesus is her husbund:
And yes she lied about it all
Her children and her husband
You were born to judge the world
Forgive me but I wasn’t
@kostasbr51
In this poem-song "Santiago" is not a city. It's a date, the 25th July. National festivity in Spain. Music and dances in the evening in many towns and villages.
@man28166
Yes... like in my village