It arrived without warning, it came from far away
It walked from shore to shore, a pout on its lips
And then one morning, upon waking up, it’s almost nothing
But it's there in you, sleeping in the small of your back
The pain of living, the pain of living
We must live well to live better
One can put it over the shoulder or put it on the hand like a piece of jewelry
Like a flower in a buttonhole or at the tip of the breast
It's not necessarily misery, it's not Valmy nor Verdun
But it's the tears on the eyelids on the dying day
On the day that comes
The pain of living, the pain of living
We must live well to live better
It doesn't matter if you're from Rome or America, or from London or Beijing
Or from Egypt or Africa, or Porte Saint-Martin
We all say the same prayer, we all follow the same road
The road is long when you have to do it with your back aching
They have the good intention to understand us
Those who come to us with bare hands
We don't want to listen to them, we can't, not anymore
And all alone in the silence of a night that doesn’t end
Suddenly we think of those who have not come back
Of the pain of living, their pain of living
We must live well to live better
And without warning, it arrived, it came from far away
and it walked from coast to coast, laughter on its lips
And then one morning, upon waking up, it's almost nothing
But it's there, filling you with wonder, in the small of your back
The joy of living, the joy of living
You must live well, your joy of living