Les Cloches

The bells no longer ring
The cathedral has fallen silent
Quasimodo is unhappy
Quasimodo is in love
He is on a bell strike
For three days now
Quasimodo is sad
Quasimodo is mad

Because he is dying of love
The bells I ring
Are my loves, are my lovers
I want them to trumpet
To drum and to sing
Whether it hails or thunders
Or rains or winds blow
I want them to resonate
In joy as in turmoil

Those that ring at birth
Those that ring at death
Those that ring every day, every night, every hour
Those that ring when we pray
Those that ring when we cry
Those that ring for the people who rise early
For Palm Sunday
For Quasimodo

For Christmas Day and All Saints' Day
For the Annunciation
For the Resurrection
For Valentine's Day and Good Friday
For celebrations
And for processions
The most beautiful one is called Corpus Christi
New Year's Day, Epiphany
Easter Day, day of joy

Day of Pentecost with its tongues of fire
For confirmations
And for communions
The Angelus and the death knell, day of wrath, that day
The day of Ascension
The day of Assumption
For all the hosannas and all the hallelujahs

But the one I prefer
Among all these iron women
Are the three Maries
Who are my best friends
There is the little Mary
For the children we lay to rest
There is the big Mary
For the sailors who set sail
But when I ring the big Mary
For the lovers who marry
It's not that I feel like laughing
I would rather feel like dying

To see them so joyful
To see them so happy
Me, whom no woman will ever look in the eyes
To see them wed
To see them fly away
Amidst the stars under the vault of the heavens
All the bells I ring
Kyrie eleison
Hosanna hallelujah day of wrath, that day
All these bells of misfortune
All these bells of happiness
All these bells that have never rung for me

The bells I ring
Are my friends, are my lovers
I want them to trumpet
If Esmeralda is alive
To tell the world that Quasimodo loves Esmeralda