Le Chant Des Grives

For those who falter
Who sway
To the music of silence
Who warm their existences
By the fire of their fragilities
In the sun of their demands

For those who leave
For those who stay
For all those who, whatever they do
Put wings on their shoes
Hide horns in their hair
To return to the fight

The fight is sometimes to defy
One's soul to fill one's pockets
To fill one's stomach and head
And when the festive days come
It's with three bits of string
To make bouquets of sparks

For those who lose
All they bet
But who don't turn their shirts
To seduce those who despise them
For those who paint night and day
Emergency exits

For those, for those who remain faithful
To the cormorant, to the swallow
To this garden that nothing will ever burn
To those who do their best
Who manage so that the frost
So that rust doesn't take away their thirst for life

The song of the thrushes
Hum hum hum
Hum hum hum

For those who pass by
Who move
For those who fight hand to hand
Everything that resembles death
For those who lean towards revenge
Without trampling the periwinkle

For the lonely ones
Who would like
One day, one hour, one second
To know those called everyone
To have an appointment tomorrow
To escape in a glass of wine

But everyone is nobody
So what's the point of holding on
Tell me, what's the point of holding back
From leaving without saying a word
The group that imprisons us
Assembly that wants our skin

For all those who don't know
The words posture and imposture
Because we go as we go
On foot, on horseback or by car
Legs of fire, legs of wood
End up in the same nature

For those, for those who remain faithful
To the cormorant, to the swallow
To this garden that nothing will ever burn
To those who do their best
Who manage so that the frost
So that rust doesn't take away their thirst for life

The song of the thrushes
Hum hum hum
Hum hum hum

The song of the thrushes
Hum hum hum
Hum hum hum
Hum hum hum