Les Trois Cloches

Village at the bottom of the valley
Almost lost, almost ignored
Here when the night is starry
A newborn is given to us
His name is Jean-François Nicot
He is chubby, tender, and rosy
In the church, beautiful little man,
Tomorrow you will be baptized...

A bell rings, rings
Its voice echoing
Tells the world that wonders:
'It's for Jean-François Nicot'
It's to welcome a soul
A flower opening to the day
Barely, barely a flame
Still weak, demanding
Protection, tenderness, love...

Village at the bottom of the valley
Far from the roads, far from humans
Here after nineteen years
Heart in turmoil, Jean-François
Takes as his wife the sweet Élise
White as an apple blossom
Before God, in the old church
This day they were married...

All the bells ring, ring
Their voices echoing
Marvelously crowning
The wedding of François Nicot
'One heart, one soul,'
Says the priest, 'and forever
Be a pure flame
That rises and proclaims
The greatness of your love.'

Village at the bottom of the valley
Days, nights, time has flown
Here when the night is starry
A heart sleeps, François is dead...
For all flesh is like grass
It is like the flower of the fields
Ears, ripe fruits, bouquets and sheaves,
Alas, they wither away...

A bell rings, rings
It sings in death
Obsessive and monotonous
It tells the living again:
'Do not tremble, faithful hearts
God will signal you one day!
You will find under His wing
With eternal life -
The eternity of love...'