Les enfants paradis - Saez

Ils étaient des sourires, ils étaient des sanglots

Ils étaient de ces rires que font les chants d’oiseaux

Ils étaient des matins quand on va bord de mer

Ils étaient cœur chagrin, ils étaient cœur lumière

Ils étaient des poèmes, ils étaient des oiseaux

Ils étaient des «je t’aime» qu’on dit bord du ruisseau

Ils étaient du café, ils étaient du bistrot

Ils étaient étrangers, ils étaient sans drapeau

Ils étaient de Paris, ils étaient de province

Ils étaient cœur de pluie qui font mon cœur qui grince

Ils étaient plein de vie, avaient l'œil du printemps

Ils étaient cœur qui rit quand le ciel est pleurant

Ils étaient des promesses, ils étaient devenir

Ils étaient bien trop jeunes, oui pour devoir partir

Ils étaient fils d’Orient ou fils de l’Occident

Enfants du paradis, enfants du Bataclan

Ils étaient cœur français ou international

Ils étaient la rosée qui pleure dessous le châle

Ils étaient des promesses, ils étaient des bourgeons

Qui font monter tristesse, ils étaient des chansons

Ils étaient des familles, ils étaient des amis

Ils étaient ce qui brille dans le ciel de la nuit

Ils étaient amoureux ceux qui se sont blottis

L’un contre l’autre, à deux contre la tyrannie

Ils étaient comme toi, ils étaient comme moi

Ils n'étaient pas guerriers mais sont morts au combat

Ils étaient cœur d’amour, ils étaient cœur qui bat

Puis qui battra toujours même en dessous la croix

Ils étaient ces amis que je connaissais pas

Ils étaient mon pays et puis le tiens je crois

Ils resteront Paris, Paris se souviendra

Toujours de ces amis, la lumière brillera

Ils s’appelaient je t’aime, ils s’appelaient jeunesse

Ils s’appelaient poèmes, ils s’appelaient tendresse

Ils s’appelaient frangines, ils s’appelaient frangins

Ils s’appelaient gamines, ils s’appelaient gamins

Ils s’appelaient la joie et puis la non violence

Ils s’appelaient je crois les enfants de la France

De tous les horizons puis de tous les prénoms

Ils s’appelaient amour, s’appelaient l’horizon

Ils s’appelaient Jacques Brel puis je crois Barbara

Ils s’appelaient le ciel, ils s’appelaient pourquoi

Toujours ici sommeille l’horreur au creux du bois

Qui rejoint l’Eternel, va l’innocent je crois

Ils étaient poings levés, ils étaient nos concerts

Ils étaient cœur serré, oui face aux tortionnaires

Ils étaient cœur d'œillets, des fleurs face aux fusils

A nos cœurs endeuillés, nous pleurons nos amis

A l’innocent qu’on tue, oui tombé sous les balles

Au soldat inconnu, sous l’horreur des mitrailles

Si sont les lettres mortes, les cantiques du chagrin

Puisque frappent à la porte les plaines de Verdun

Si sont tombés ce soir, en ce vendredi noir

Les frères de mon pays, nous laissant désespoir

Mon pays, ta culture est morte assassinée

Mais tu sais ma culture, non ne mourra jamais

Toi mon pays Molière, toi mon pays Vinci

Toi mon pays Voltaire, toi mon pays Valmy

Toi mon pays la Terre, toi mon pays Paris

Toi mon pays parterre, relève-toi mon pays

Toi mon pays lumière, toi mon pays la vie

Mon pays littéraire, mon pays triste vie

Toi mon pays mes frères, toi frère de mon pays

Comme on chérit sa mère, on chérit sa patrie

They were smiles, they were sobs

They were those laughs that birdsong makes

They were mornings when we go to the seaside

They were sorrow hearts, they were light hearts

They were poems, they were birds

They were "I love you" that we say on the edge of the stream

They were coffee, they were pub

They were foreign, they were flagless

They were from Paris, they were from the provinces

They were hearts of rain that make my heart creak

They were full of life, had the eye of spring

They were laughing hearts when the sky is crying

They were promises, they were becoming

They were way too young, yes to have to leave

They were sons of the East or sons of the West

Children of paradise, children of Bataclan

They were French or international heart

They were the dew crying under the shawl

They were promises, they were buds

That raise sadness, they were songs

They were families, they were friends

They were what shines in the night sky

They were in love those who huddled together

One against another, two against tyranny

They were like you, they were like me

They weren't warriors but died in battle

They were hearts of love, they were beating hearts

Then who will always beat even below the cross

They were those friends I didn't know

They were my country and then yours I believe

They will remain Paris, Paris will remember

Always of these friends, the light will shine

They were called I love you, they were called youth

They were called poems, they were called tenderness

They were called brothers, they were called brothers

They were called kids, they were called kids

They were called joy and then nonviolence

They were called I believe the children of France

From all walks of life then from all first names

They were called love, they were called the horizon

They were called Jacques Brel then I believe Barbara

They were called heaven, they were called why

Still here slumbers the horror in the hollow of the wood

Who joins the Lord, goes the innocent I believe

They were raised fists, they were our concerts

They were heartbroken, yes in the face of the torturers

They were hearts of carnations, flowers facing guns

To our bereaved hearts we mourn our friends

To the innocent that we kill, yes fallen under the bullets

To the unknown soldier, under the horror of grapeshot

If are the dead letters, the songs of sorrow

Since knocking at the door the plains of Verdun

If fell tonight, on this Black Friday

The brothers of my country, leaving us in despair

My country, your culture died murdered

But you know my culture, no will never die

You my country Molière, you my country Vinci

You my country Voltaire, you my country Valmy

You my country Earth, you my country Paris

You my country on the ground, get up my country

You my country of light, you my country of life

My literary country, my sad life country

You my country my brothers, you brother of my country

As one cherishes one's mother, one cherishes one's homeland