They were twenty and a hundred, they were thousands
Naked and thin, trembling, in these leaden wagons
That tore the night with their beating nails
They were thousands, they were twenty and a hundred

They thought they were men, they were nothing more than numbers
Their dice had been thrown long ago
As soon as the hand falls, only a shadow remains
They were never to see a summer again

The monotonous and unhurried flight of time
Survive another day, another hour, stubbornly
How many wheel turns, stops and departures
That never stop distilling hope?

Their names were Jean-Pierre, Natacha or Samuel
Some prayed to Jesus, Jehovah or Vishnu
Others did not pray, but no matter the sky
They simply wanted to no longer live on their knees

Not all of them made it to the end of the journey
Can those who have returned be happy?
They try to forget, surprised that at their age
The veins in their arms have become so blue

The Germans watched from the top of the watchtowers
The moon was silent as you were silent
Looking far away, looking outside
Your flesh was tender to their police dogs

I am now told that these words are no longer in use
That it is better to only sing love songs
That blood dries quickly when it enters history
That there is no point in picking up a guitar

But who is big enough to stop me?
The shadow has become human, today it is summer
I would twist the words if I had to twist them
So that one day the children know who you were

You were twenty and a hundred, you were thousands
Naked and thin, trembling, in these leaden wagons
Who tore the night with your beating nails
You were thousands, you were twenty and a hundred

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