"Why all these bugles crying
for squads of young men drilled
To kill and to be killed
and waiting by this train
Why the orders loud and hoarse,
why the engine's groaning cough
As it strains to drag us off
into the holocaust
Why crowds who sing and cry
and shout and fling us flowers
And trade their right for ours
to murder and to die
The dove has torn her wings so no more songs of love
We are not here to sing, we're here to kill the dove
Why has this moment come
when childhood has to die
When hope shrinks to a sigh
and speech into a drum
Why are they pale and still,
young boys trained overnight
Conscripts forced to fight
and dressed in grey to kill
These rain clouds massing tight,
this trainload battle bound
This moving burial ground
sent thundering toward the night
Why statues towering brave
above the last defeat
Old word and lies repeat
across the new made grave
Why the same still birth
that victory always brought
These hoards of glory bought
by men with mouths of earth
Dead ash without a spark
where cities glittered bright
For guns probe every light
and crush it in the dark
And why your face undone
with jagged lines of tears
That gave in those first years
all peace I ever won
Your body in the gloom,
the platform fading back
Your shadow on the track,
a flower on a tomb
And why these days ahead
when I must let you cry
And live prepared to die
as if our love were dead
The dove has torn her wings so no more songs of love
We are not here to sing, we're here to kill the dove."
"La Colombe" was written in French by Jacques Brel and translated into English ("The Dove") by Alasdair Clayre. I'd intended to post the lyrics for some time and was reminded of it when I was revising some old web pages. In the process of looking for the complete English lyrics, I came across a site recently created (posted December 8, 2006) by Petros Evdokas of Cyprus. The page
(The site is not longer available as of 2008-02-21. It was Petros' thoughts of being a soldier, and the moral dilemma he faced.)