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Gringoire: |
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The bells do not play, in Notre dame today. |
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Quasimodo hides up above, Quasimodo is sick with love. |
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Frollo: |
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The bells have lost their voice, for three days by his choice. |
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Quasimodo is sad, Quasimodo is going mad. |
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Frollo & Gringoire: |
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Quasimodo dies for love. |
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Quasimodo: |
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The bells that I make ring; they are my loves, they love me well. |
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I want to hear them sing, loud as they swing; my pretty bells. |
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In thunder or hail, or in wind or in rain. |
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Their song will never fail, singing through joy, singing through pain. |
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Bells that ring when we're born, Bells that ring when we die. |
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Bells that ring every day, every night, every hour. |
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Bells that ring when we pray, Bells that ring when we cry. |
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Bells that ring to wake us up when the sun lights the sky. |
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For the feast of Rameaux, for the Quasimodo. |
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For a bright Christmas day and for the day of all saints. |
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For annunciation, for the resurrection. |
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For St valentine day and for when Good Friday comes. |
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Celebrations they sing, all processions they ring. |
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The most beautiful day it is the feast of our lord. |
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Days of years, days of kings. |
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Easter day my bells ring. |
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And on Pentecost day they sing with bright tongues of flame. |
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Confirmation they sing, and communions they ring. |
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Bells that toll for our death; Dies Irae, dies illa. |
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For ascension they sing, for assumption they ring. |
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Bells that bring us hosanna and sing hallelujah. |
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The bells I hold most dear, of the beauties I have here. |
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They are my Mary's three, all best friends to me. |
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When my little Mary rings, when children die she sets them free. |
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And my big Mary rings, when sailors set forth on the sea. |
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But when my great Mary sings, when lovers exchange wedding rings. |
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Then something in me always cries; then something in me always dies. |
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To see their happiness, to see their tenderness. |
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When a woman will not give me a single caress. |
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My bells marry and blend, and take wings on the wind. |
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In the midst of the stars up in the vaults of the sky. |
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All these bells that I sound, Kyrie Elieson. |
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Hosanna Allelujah Dies irae dies illa. |
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Bells that mourn with the sad, bells that laugh with the glad. |
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All these bells that have never not once rung out for me. |
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The bells that I make ring; they are my loves, such joy they bring. |
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I want to hear them sing, if Esmeralda does still live. |
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To tell the world, that Quasimodo loves Esmeralda. |
