Only to stand and fall again

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

- W. H. Auden

The poets dream

And now, a comparison.

Chelsea Hotel No. 1 I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel You were taking so brave and so free Giving me head on the unmade bed While the limousines wait in the street (And) Those were the reasons and that was New York I was running for the money and the flesh That was called love for the workers in song Probably (It) still is for those of us/them left But You got away, didn't you baby You just threw it all to the ground You got away, they can't pay you now For mailing your sweet little song I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel In the winter of sixty-seven My friends of that year they were all trying to go queer And me I was just getting even And me I was just getting even And me I was just getting even (And) those were the reasons and that was New York I was running for the money and the flesh That was called love for the workers in song Probably (It) still is for those of us/them left But you got away, didn't you baby You just threw it all to the ground You got away they can't pay you now For making your sweet little sound

Chelsea Hotel No. 2 I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel, you were talking so brave and so sweet, giving me head on the unmade bed, while the limousines wait in the street. Those were the reasons and that was New York, we were running for the money and the flesh. And that was called love for the workers in song probably still is for those of them left. Ah but you got away, didn't you babe, you just turned your back on the crowd, you got away, I never once heard you say, I need you, I don't need you, I need you, I don't need you and all of that jiving around. I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel you were famous, your heart was a legend. You told me again you preferred handsome men but for me you would make an exception. And clenching your fist for the ones like us who are oppressed by the figures of beauty, you fixed yourself, you said, "Well never mind, we are ugly but we have the music." Ah but you got away, didn't you babe, you just turned your back on the crowd, you got away, I never once heard you say, I need you, I don't need you, I need you, I don't need you and all of that jiving around. I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best, I can't keep track of each fallen robin. I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel, that's all, I don't even think of you that often.

- Leonard Cohen