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Poem	From the French of Andr? Fr?naud France was born there and it is from there she sings Of Joan of Ark and Varlin both. We must dig deep, o motherland, Beneath those heavy cobbles. Country of the Commune, so dear to me, My very own which make my blood burn And that same blood will one day flow again Between those very stones. It is there when I see people dance Beneath the veined clouds under the May sun Especially when the notes of the accordion Pied-piped them away from the urgencies of the day. It is the people’s special gift beneath the waving banner To have such gentle hearts. Mine beats still At the kindness of strangers. After the Night of the Long Knives That same heart still beats At the goodwill of those souls buried Beneath stones laughing and weeping even now.
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