There are no ancient languages
It's always the same
To express the same sorrows
To swear the same loves
It's written in your pages
Better and long before us
Rockstars of the Middle Ages
We descend from you

You, it's a stroke of the pen
It's the step of the horses
It's singing to your Ladies
All that is most beautiful
Their souls and their faces
Far above everything
Rockstars of the Middle Ages
We descend from you

The girl at the window
Who sings with her eyes closed
Seeks to recognize herself
In each of your words
It's worth much more
Than the heaviest jewel
Rockstars of the Middle Ages
We descend from you

With only armor
The skin of a tambourine
Under the heights of the walls
Under the extinguished balcony
Where the Beauty is caged
And without a jealous lover
Rockstars of the Middle Ages
We descend from you

The girl at her small window
Sings with her eyes closed
And in each song
Hopes to find herself
This is worth much more
Than a pretty jewel
Rockstars of the Middle Ages
We descend from you

Jaufré Rudel, Guillaume
Bernard de Ventadour
Pèire, Bertran de Born
A hundred other troubadours
We guard the heritage
Guitars around our necks
Rockstars of the Middle Ages
We descend from you

CONSULTER LES PAROLES ORIGINALES