The children of Satan, traduction de Patty Hannock

(Les Aventures de Nathalie Nicole Nicole)

THE TOWNSFOLK CHORUS. There were three little children. Walking on the road to Blagdon. Making their way. Feverishly. They ferried over rivers. They went to the foot of high cliffs. Making their way. Irresponsible. They slept in snakes' nests. Curled up together like adders, asleep in the long grass. Making their way. Laughing in the moonlight. Eternal.
CLEO, MICHAEL SIR-SIR ET NATHALIE. We won't come back oh no we won't!
THE SENSIBLE CHILD. They shouted.
THE TOWNSFOLK CHORUS. They walked in fear of hurting one another. Fatal friends. Making their way. Pursued by mothers. Pursued by a horde of horrifying mothers, the mad children holed up together. They sought water to drink. Pursued over centuries and centuries.
CLEO, MICHAEL SIR-SIR & NATHALIE. We shall nurture everlasting pain in every nursery school we shall.
THE SENSIBLE CHILD. They voices rang.
THE TOWNSFOLK CHORUS. They came. The children of Satan. They stole  the chapel's holy wafers. They turned to throw stones aiming right between the eyes. They made their way through morning tenderness. They made their way. Love-starved. Irresistible. Each other's murderers. They made their way, hearts beating, sticks high above snakes fleeting.