We swore to each other then that our love would surely last.
You kept right on loving, I went on a fast,
now I am too thin and your love is too vast.
But I know from your eyes
and I know from your smile
that tonight will be fine,
will be fine, will be fine, will be fine
for a while.
I choose the rooms that I live in with care,
the windows are small and the walls almost bare,
there's only one bed and there's only one prayer;
I listen all night for your step on the stair.
But I know from your eyes
and I know from your smile
that tonight will be fine,
will be fine, will be fine, will be fine
for a while.
Oh sometimes I see her undressing for me,
she's the soft naked lady love meant her to be
and she's moving her body so brave and so free.
If I've got to remember that's a fine memory.
And I know from her eyes
and I know from her smile
that tonight will be fine,
will be fine, will be fine, will be fine
for a while.
« Tonight will
be fine » figure parmi les plus belles chansons de Léonard Cohen adaptées en français par Graeme Allwright
sous le titre de « Demain sera bien ».
Si un mélange subtil d’érotisme et de mysticisme constitue une signature
poétique de Léonard Cohen, la
version de Graeme
Allwright fait plus de place au versant mystique que l’original, et confère
à l’alcôve l’aspect d’une cellule monacale. C’est n’est cependant pas un
quelconque « lendemain » qu’évoque Léonard Cohen, mais le soir, et ce
n’est pas la lumière qu’il attend chaque soir, mais la venue de la femme dont
les yeux et le sourire lui promettent une nuit d’amour… Et c’est bien d’amour –
physique – qu’il s’agit, mais d’un amour passé, dont le souvenir est un refuge.
Un souvenir amer, sans doute teinté du regret de n’avoir pas pu ou su le conserver,
et de la notion, discrètement rappelée à la fin de chaque refrain, que « plaisir
d’amour ne dure qu’un moment »…
I’ve looked into the mirrors in numberless places;
They all smile back at me with their troublesome faces.
In the cards that they dealt me there weren’t any aces,
And the horses never listened to me at the races
There are still one or two of us walking the streets,
No arrows of direction painted under our feet,
No angels to warn us away from the heat,
And no honey to keep us where it is sweet.
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