When I was a soldier

Well I lived with a child of snow
when I was a soldier,
and I fought every man for her
until the nights grew colder.

(Leonard Cohen, Winter Lady, 1968)

The wind began to howl

All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants too.
Outside in the distance
A wildcat did growl.
Two riders were approaching
The wind began to howl.
(Bob Dylan, All Along the Watchtower, 1967)

...before they raise the parking rate

There she stood

In the street

Smiling from her head to her feet.

I said, "A-hey

what is this?"

Now baby maybe, maybe she's in need of a kiss.

I said, "A-hey

what's your name?

Maybe we can see things the same.

Now don't you wait

Or hesitate

Let's move before they raise the parking rate".

All right now, baby, it's a-all right now.

All right now, baby, it's a-all right now.

(Free, All Right Now, 1970)

Sounds of yesterday

Icy wind of night be gone, this is not your domain.

In the sky a bird was heard to cry.

Misty morning whisperings and gentle stirring sounds,

Belied the deathly silence that lay all around.

In the lazy water meadow I lay me down.

All around me golden sunflakes settle on the ground.

Basking in the sunshine of a bygone afternoon,

Bringing sounds of yesterday into my city room.

(Roger Waters, Grantchester Meadows, 1969)

El incidente Roswell

Quand nous en serons au temps des cerises

Et gai rossignol et merle moqueur

Seront tous en fête,

Les belles auront la folie en tête,

Et les amoureux du soleil au cœur.

Quand nous chanterons le temps des cerises

Sifflera bien mieux le merle moqueur.

(Jean-Baptiste Clément, Le temps des cerises, 1866)

The curse is come upon me

She left the web, she left the loom,

She made three paces thro' the room,

She saw the water-lily bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

"The curse is come upon me," cried

The Lady of Shalott.

(Alfred, Lord Tennyson, The Lady of Shalott, 1842)

Innere Emigration

Breath on breath of morning wind
Stirs the curtain laces,
You may go to chase the sun
Or vanish in its changes.

I will stay to gaze upon
Sweetly smiling ladies,
Yes I will be turning back my pages.

(Heron, Smiling Ladies, 1970)