Les Enfants de La Pluie

They have the smile of children who expect nothing
They caress with their eyes but never with their hands
They press their noses against the store windows
For things that belong to them from afar

And their fingers wet from the icy rain
Leave on the windows the imprints of their empty hands
The children, the children of the rain, are the children of the poor streets
There are only toys in dreams for the children of the rain

With paper, they make small boats
That we see floating along the streams
Of the streets
For a tin can that they chase like a ball
They fight and scream loudly when they have
Lost

Despite the coat they have on their backs
That their brothers wore before them, they are happy
The children, the children of the rain, are the children of the poor streets
There are only toys in dreams for the children, the children of the rain
When they come home, they still find
A mother who loves them
All these children of the rain