Ma rose [English translation]

In about an hour, when the body is cold*

When underground, on [my]** back

We will have crossed...your fingers

In this final room,

This fortress of wood,

That your soul flies above our roofs.

I don't say anything, at your age,

I wouldn't say [anything of] your hair

Neither your hands, your smell, your big...

Your big blue eyes

I will keep quiet about your magic and your spells

I will spoil your sweetness...from time to time

Do not speak to me of God!

Do not speak to me of the Cross!

Do not speak to me for them!

Do not speak to me of faith!

Forget your old books

Forget your old fathers

Your verses for the weak,

Your bell towers of vipers***

Your stories for children

What is beautiful, what is great

About putting a knee to the earth

A whole people dying, justifying the misery

Of divine disappointments

When the wounded, the proud

Do not come either

While dripping and greasy

Sweating of comfort, stuffed with nonsense

With evil agreements,

Watered with red wine, and others with ridiculous bread***

Blinding those who are there

A whole naïve people

I promise you my rose

I promise you my flower

That I come to in this nothingness

Of garden beds where you repose

To lay beside

Our old withered bodies

And my hand in your hand

To rot in this nothingness.

• Artist:Guillaume Grand
• Album:Il paraît