Bonhomme [English translation]

Despite the biting wind

The poor old woman of Somme

Goes gather firewood

To heat Little Fellow

Little Fellow who’ll die

A natural death

Melancholic, she goes

Through the pale forest

Where once she dreamed

Of the one she loves

That she loves and that will die

A natural death

Nothing will stop the course

Of the old lady who reaps

The old wood of her numb fingers

Nothing and no one

For Little Fellow will die

A natural death

No, nothing will stop her

Neither that voice of doom

That says : “When you’ll go

Back home, later

Little Fellow will already be dead

Of a natural death”

Neither this other and dark voice

Deep inside of her

Reminding her that sometimes

He was unfaithful

For Little Fellow, he will die

A natural death