Half a world away, I sit on the ground, and weep for beauty broken.
Lady of Paris, ochone.
For what I have never seen, I raise now a lament.
Lady of Paris, ochone.
I raise a lament for the forest felled, for 800 years: ash, now, ember and ash.
Lady of Paris, ochone.
I raise a lament for the stones that stood, for the hands that wrought.
Lady of Paris, ochone.
People of Paris, that weep in the streets, with you I raise my lament.
The Lady of Paris has fallen.
Ochone, ochone, ochone.