Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Les enfants paradis, artist - Saez.
Date of issue: 21.11.2019
Song language: French
Les enfants paradis(original) |
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 |
(translation) |
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 |