A people of elves
A degenerate people
A genocidal people
Drowned in red wine
Drowned in French pom-pom
And in the political slogans
A people resembling Elves
Playfully amusing themselves
In the abandoned heath
Dancing among the megaliths
To the sound of the toads
To the mysterious music
Of the wind and the sea
The lament of the streams
The rustling of the woods

And the enchantment of the Harp
And the bagpipe of the night-Festivals
Elves crouch in their hole
As soon as the Masters roar
As soon as the Frenchman’s roosters crow
A defeated people, drowned
Like the City of Ys in the ocean (1)

Some complain in the dark night
About their lost Liberties
While dancing like Elves
On the dried ground of the warren
And kneel every morning
Before the French-God.
Do back-breaking work,
During the day, during the week,
For the Country that sucks them…

Ah! People disintegrated
Turned to elves!
What miracle will be needed
To awaken you?

(1) A legendary city submerged in the sea due to the wickedness of its people.

Translated by Lenora Timm

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