Charles Aznavour - Ils sont tombes




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Published on Nov 23, 2007

The lyrics in French and English.

Ils sont tombés
Charles Aznavour

Ils sont tombés sans trop savoir pourquoi
Hommes, femmes et enfants qui ne voulaient que vivre
Avec des gestes lourds comme des hommes ivres
Mutilés, massacrés les yeux ouverts d'effroi
Ils sont tombés en invoquant leur Dieu
Au seuil de leur église ou le pas de leur porte
En troupeaux de désert titubant en cohorte
Terrassés par la soif, la faim, le fer, le feu

Nul n'éleva la voix dans un monde euphorique
Tandis que croupissait un peuple dans son sang
L' Europe découvrait le jazz et sa musique
Les plaintes de trompettes couvraient les cris d'enfants
Ils sont tombés pudiquement sans bruit
Par milliers, par millions, sans que le monde bouge
Devenant un instant minuscules fleurs rouges
Recouverts par un vent de sable et puis d'oubli

Ils sont tombés les yeux pleins de soleil
Comme un oiseau qu'en vol une balle fracasse
Pour mourir n'importe où et sans laisser de traces
Ignorés, oubliés dans leur dernier sommeil
Ils sont tombés en croyant ingénus
Que leurs enfants pourraient continuer leur enfance
Qu'un jour ils fouleraient des terres d'espérance
Dans des pays ouverts d'hommes aux mains tendues

Moi je suis de ce peuple qui dort sans sépulture
Qu'a choisi de mourir sans abdiquer sa foi
Qui n'a jamais baissé la tête sous l'injure
Qui survit malgré tout et qui ne se plaint pas
Ils sont tombés pour entrer dans la nuit
Éternelle des temps au bout de leur courage
La mort les a frappés sans demander leur âge
Puisqu'ils étaient fautifs d'être enfants d'Arménie

They Fell
Charles Aznavour

They fell that year, they vanished from the earth,
Never knowing the cause, or what laws they'd offended,
The women fell as well, and the babies they tendered,
Left to die, left to cry, all condemned by their birth.

They fell like rain, across the thirsty land,
In their heart they were slain, in their God still believing,
All their pity and pain, in that season of grieving,
All in vain, all in vain, just for one helping hand.

For no one heard their prayers, in a world bent on pleasure,
From other people scared, they simply closed their eyes,
They create a lot of sound, in jazz and right time measure,
The trumpets screamed till dawn, to drown the children's cries.

They fell like leaves, its people, in its prime,
Simple man, kindly man, and not one knew his crime,
They became in an hour, like the small desert flower,
Soon covered by the silent wind, in sands of time.

They fell that year, before a cruel foe,
They had little to give, but their lives, and their passion,
And their longing to live, in their way, in their fashion,
So their harvest could thrive, and their children could grow.

They fell like flies, their eyes still full of song,
Like a dove in its flight, in the path of a rifle,
That folds on where it might, as if death were a trifle,
And to bring to an end, a life barely begun.

And I am of that race, who died in unknown places,
Who perished in their pride, whose blood in rivers ran,
In agony and fright, with courage on their faces
They went into the night, that waits for every man.

They fell like tears, and never knew what for,
In that summer of strife, of massacre and war,
Their only crime was life, there only guilt was being,
The children of Armenia, nothing less nothing more.


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