Leonard Cohen "Story of Isaac" letra

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 shiningAnd his voice was very cold.He said, "I've had a visionAnd 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 laterAnd he put his hand on mine.Thought I saw an eagleBut 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 nowTo sacrifice these children,You must not do it anymore.A scheme is not a visionAnd you never have been temptedBy 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 mountainAnd my father's hand was tremblingWith the beauty of the world.

And if you call me brother now,Forgive me if I inquire,"Just according to whose plan?"When it all comes down to dustI will kill you if I must,I will help you if I can.When it all comes down to dustI 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.

Historia de Isaac

La puerta se abrió lento,yo tenía nueve añoscuando mi padre entró.Se paró alto sobre mí,sus ojos azul brillabany muy fría era su voz.Dijo: "Tuve una visióny sabés, soy fuerte y santo,debo obedecer a Dios".Y subimos la montaña,yo corría, el caminabay en su hacha brillaba el sol.

Los árboles se achicaron,el lago como un espejo,a beber vino paramos.Luego arrojó la botella,se rompió al momentoy apoyó en mí su mano.Creí ver un águilamas podría ser un buitre,no lo supe nunca bien.Y mi padre alzó un altar,miró atrás de su espalda,yo no me iba a esconder.

Ustedes que construyensacrificios para niños,no lo hagan más, ya no.Un esquema no es visióny nunca fueron tentadospor un demonio o un dios.Ustedes los mayores,con sus hachas sangrantes,no estuvieron aquí, no,cuando sobre la montañayo y mi padre que temblabacon la luz de aquella voz.

Si me llamas hermano,perdón si te pregunto,"¿de acuerdo con qué plan?".Cuando todo sea polvoyo te mataré si debo,si puedo te he de ayudar.Cuando todo sea polvoyo te ayudaré si debo,si puedo te he de matar.Piedad sobre el uniforme,hombre de paz o de guerra,se abre el pavo real.