Leonard Cohen


Story Of Isaac - Poem by Leonard Cohen

The door it opened slowly,
my father he came in,
I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
his blue eyes they were shining
and his voice was very cold.
He said, "I've had a vision
and you know I'm strong and holy,
I must do what I've been told."
So he started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
and his axe was made of gold.


Comments about Story Of Isaac by Leonard Cohen

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (11/28/2015 1:55:00 PM)

    '' I will help you if I must,
    I will kill you if I can. ''

    the MAN is just here, in these words.. (Report) Reply

    7 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (11/28/2015 1:53:00 PM)

    FULL TEXT:

    ''Story Of Isaac''

    The door it opened slowly,
    My father he came in,
    I was nine years old.
    And he stood so tall above me,
    His blue eyes they were shining
    And his voice was very cold.
    He said, I've had a vision
    And you know I'm strong and holy,
    I must do what I've been told.
    So he started up the mountain,
    I was running, he was walking,
    And his axe was made of gold.

    Well, the trees they got much smaller,
    The lake a lady's mirror,
    We stopped to drink some wine.
    Then he threw the bottle over.
    Broke a minute later
    And he put his hand on mine.
    Thought I saw an eagle
    But it might have been a vulture,
    I never could decide.
    Then my father built an altar,
    He looked once behind his shoulder,
    He knew I would not hide.

    You who build these altars now
    To sacrifice these children,
    You must not do it anymore.
    A scheme is not a vision
    And you never have been tempted
    By a demon or a god.
    You who stand above them now,
    Your hatchets blunt and bloody,
    You were not there before,
    When I lay upon a mountain
    And my father's hand was trembling
    With the beauty of the word.

    And if you call me brother now,
    Forgive me if I inquire,
    just according to whose plan?
    When it all comes down to dust
    I will kill you if I must,
    I will help you if I can.
    When it all comes down to dust
    I will help you if I must,
    I will kill you if I can.
    And mercy on our uniform,
    Man of peace or man of war,
    The peacock spreads his fan. (Report) Reply

  • Angel OfGod (11/6/2009 10:55:00 AM)

    Nice rendition of the familiar Bible story segment. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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