Lull to sleep, sleep my child,
the baby wants the tit,
sleep my child, get to sleep
that if you sleep you won’t see
so many disgraces and woes
that are happening in the world
among the bombs and the guns
of the nations that are civilized.
Sleep my child, you don’t hear
the sighs and wails
of poor people who slaughter each other,
who slaughter and kill each other
to the advantage of the race,
of people who are slaughtering each other
because of a madman who commands,
and also to the advantage of a faith
for a God whom you can’t see
but who serves as a pretext
to the butcher king who
knows well that
war is
a big business
that prepares the resources
for the thieves of money.
Sleep, sleep…
Sleep my child, go to sleep,
go to sleep that tomorrow
we’ll see once again the kings
exchanging their esteem,
good friends as before.
They are cousins, and as relatives
they don’t stand on ceremonies:
personal relationships will be again
even more friendly.
Without the slightest shade of regret,
you’ll see what a beautiful speech
they will make, all together,
on peace and work
for that fucking people
spared by the cannon!
Sleep, sleep…
