Nuit et brouillard

They were twenty and a hundred, they were thousands
Naked and thin, trembling, in those leaden wagons
That tore the night with their beating nails
They were thousands, they were twenty and a hundred
They thought they were men, were no more than numbers
Long ago their dice had been cast
As soon as the hand falls, only a shadow remains
They would never see another summer
The monotonous and unhurried flight of time
To survive another day, an hour, stubbornly
How many turns of wheels, stops and departures
That never end distilling hope
They were called Jean-Pierre, Natacha or Samuel
Some prayed to Jesus, Jehovah or Vishnu
Others did not pray, but heaven does not matter
They simply wanted not to live on their knees
Not all of them reached the end of the journey
Can those who returned be happy?
They try to forget, amazed that at their age
The veins in their arms have turned so blue
The Germans watched from the top of the watchtowers
The moon was silent as you were silent
Looking into the distance, looking outside
Your flesh was tender to their police dogs
I am told now that these words are no longer valid
That it is better to sing only love songs
That blood dries quickly when entering history
And it is useless to pick up a guitar
But who is able to stop me?
The shadow has become human, today it is summer
I would twist the words if I had to twist them
So that one day children know who you were
You were twenty and a hundred, you were thousands
Naked and thin, trembling, in those leaden wagons
That tore the night with your beating nails
You were thousands, you were twenty and a hundred