Original Title: "Paroisse"
Women are sitting in winter
Along the radios, on a last work
It's late at night, it's already somewhere around ten o'clock
For a long time are sleeping in frozen bedrooms
some children protected from evil by a sign of the cross
Women are sitting in winter. It's the cold of winter.
At the station people are still waiting for the train from Combourg and Dol
In the meadow the gypsies are watching the sleep of the horses
They have fold up the derisory circus and they are going away. Tomorrow
The masons won't be working probably because of the frost
Tomorrow there is the mass for the young girl who is mourning
From Nantes the frost with its brass. It's the cold of winter.
Parish of year sixty. Oh periphery of peace
Women laid down like an oil lamp in the silence
Gather in that case there all your children. Take them away
Towards the good Lord and let us not be separated.
Ask him if it's well tomorrow that the paymaster is passing
And when is the street finally going to be tarred. You are cold.
You turn the radio off. You go upstairs carefully
Toward a place that I have prepared for you in my memory
And that has detached from me to live, like a song
Where you are fine because we won't be separated.