The Black Hen
To my son,
Jean-Christophe, died July 18, 1990
Download as mp3 (416 K)
| The black hen in the vegetable garden Screamed like a madwoman The farmers came to see her She said it was going to rain We didn't believe her, Lanturlu My fine hat is lost | My little prince has gone away Toward other skies, other valleys Where one is always happy Where the sky is always blue I won't see him anymore, Lanturlu At the bottom of the sea he is lost | When one dies nothing is finished It's simply that one has left One always remains in the hearts Of parents, brothers and sisters We'll meet again, my friends We'll meet again, it is written |
| He had gold in his fingers He was a prince, he was a king In the paradise of good children He draws on the clouds I loved you so much, my Cricou Why did you leave without us? | We all could have loved you better We all could have been happy I didn't understand, I didn't get it And time, alas, has passed I hear his voice, tirela I feel him very close to me | Death, that's not a problem For humans, for those who love each other One just has to listen to one's heart Love, it never dies But love is there, tirela And will never leave us |
| He tells us we must forget He tells us we must forgive He forgives us too He who had done harm to no one He was so gentle, my Cricou He wasn't mean for a penny | When the wind blows over the wheat In the great shiver of summer I think of his blond hair It was so beautiful, it was so good I won't forget, tirela That I won't forget | The black hen in the henhouse Screamed like a madwoman The farmers came to see her She said it was too late She fell asleep in the night A new star shines |
