Cabrel Francis
From one Shadow to another
The Cathar Knights
The Cathar Knights
Cry softly,
At the side of the highway
When evening descends,
Like a last insult,
Like a last torment,
In the middle of the tumult,
In a cement dress.
The smoke cars,
The children's stones,
Eyes on the torture fields,
And the trash cans in front.
It's someone from above the Loire
Who had to draw the plans,
He forgot on the dress,
The blood stains.
We carved them in the stone
Who broke their bodies,
The faces in the dust
Of their ancient treasure.
On the large panel of light,
Also tell about their death,
The Cathar knights
Still thinking about it.
With all due respect to those who decide
Of the past and the present,
They only have seven centuries of history,
They are still alive.
I still hear the sound of weapons,
And I still often see
Flames who lick walls,
And giant mass graves.
The Cathar knights
Cry softly,
At the edge of the highway
When evening falls ,
Like a last insult,
Like a last torment,
In the middle of the tumult,
In a cement dress.

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