And I'll dance with you in Vienna
I'll be wearing a river's disguise
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder
My mouth on the dew of your thighs
And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook
With the photographs there, and the moss
And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty
My cheap violin and my cross
And you'll carry me down on your dancing
To the pools that you lift on your wrist
Oh my love, Oh my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz
It's yours now. It's all that there is
{Instrumental}
(Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay)
Maybe because of the death that foreshadows along the lyrics, or through mere surrender to the passing of time (“burying my soul in the scrapbook”), in this final line Cohen passes on the weight of the emotions he has poured out into the loved one, and entrusts it to them (“It´s yours now”) while expounding on how crucial those are for life (“It´s all that there is”).
Take This Waltz