Leonard Cohen — It Is Late Afternoon

It is late afternoon. I have put Beethoven on. It is foolish to impute pain to the intense sky but that is what I have done. And I will impute loneliness to the appearing moon. It is early night. Down in the lighted city the tedious hunts begin. I have been assured there is no cause for shame. I am not ashamed. I turn the music louder. There's the moon in my room's window. I balance it on my thumb and try to flip it over. It does not turn, but still, my thumb is not broken. I open the window. I make the music softer. I walk on Murray Hill. The moon needs no legend. It proclaims its interest in time, in the immediate night. I decide to leave it alone. In my room the music is turning because I expect a friend.