La Douce Paix
It is peace, it is sweet peace,
maternal and fertile peace,
Which smiles under all the aspects of nature-
white, or green, or fair!
It is peace, it is sweet peace.
It is peace with the hands of gold,
it is peace with the rosy face,
And which allows upon its altar
only the blood of the vine
And the blood of the rose,
It is immortal peace,
dear to all mortals!
Without bitterness,
as soon as it is recalled it returns,

With its great lenient gesture,

 

 

New Songs for Peace

always so young, so beautiful,
And carrying the silver olive branch.
It was exiled to the country of dreams,
It is recognized there,
it has mended its rank.
And like the children
who recover their mother,
We are thrown into its arms crying!
It is peace, it is sweet peace,
maternal and fertile peace.
We sing under the thick branches
And lead in singing the round around the world!
Guillot de Saix