The Cathar knights
Cry softly
By the highway when the evening falls
Like a last insult
Like a last torment
In the midst of the tumult
In a dress of cement

The smoke from the cars
The pebbles from the children
Eyes on the torture fields and the trash cans in front

It's someone above the Loire who must have drawn the plans
He forgot on the dress
The blood stains

They were sculpted in the stone that broke their bodies
The face in the dust of their ancient treasure

On the large panel of light, also tell of their death
The Cathar knights
Still think about it

Despite those who decide the past and the present
They only have seven centuries of history, they are still alive

I still hear the noise of weapons and I often still see
Flames licking the walls
And giant mass graves

The Cathar knights cry softly
By the highway when the evening falls
Like a last insult, like a last torment
In the midst of the tumult
In a dress of cement

CONSULTER LES PAROLES ORIGINALES