They were poor men, like you, like me;
they'd been casting their nets in the lake
or collecting taxes at the gates of the city.
I remember that amongst them all
there was not even a learned man,
and the one whom they called Master
was dead and buried in a tomb.
If you feel a breeze from heaven,
a wind shaking the doors,
listen, it's a voice that is calling you,
inviting you to travel afar.
There's a fire arising
in him who is waiting,
in him who cherishes
hopes of love.
They had a heart in their breast, like you, like me,
gripped by a fear cold as ice,
eyes that were dry, unable to cry anymore
and faces pale with fever and fear.
They surely were thinking about their lost friend,
about the woman left at the door of the house,
about the cross standing at the top of the hill.
If you feel a breeze from heaven…
And the wind shook the door of the house,
it entered wildly into the room,
and they had eyes and voices of fire;
they rushed out to sing their joy in the street.
Man, you who wait hidden in shadow,
the voice that is calling is really for you;
it brings you joy, it brings you good news:
the Kingdom of God has already come!
If you feel a breeze from heaven…

From Aram, Balak made me come,
the King of Moab,
from the Eastern Mountains:
"Come, curse Jacob for me,
come, prophesy against Israel."
How shall I curse if God does not let me?
How shall I prophesy if God does not want it?
From the top of these crags I see them,
from the top of this peak I observe them:
this is a people different from all nations!
How beautiful are your tents,
how beautiful, O Israel!
How beautiful are your tents,
how beautiful, O Israel!
La la la la…
Who shall count your multitudes?
Jacob, O Jacob,
Jacob, O Jacob?
How beautiful are your tents…
"But what are you doing?
You are blessing them!
Come see from another place,
maybe from there God will curse them."
"Listen, son of Zippor,
hear me, King Balak.
God is not a man
who speaks and then repents.
A star is rising from Jacob;
I hear acclamations for a King,
God, God is his father:
he crouches like a lion,
he lies down like a lioness,
no one will make him rise."
How beautiful are your tents…
"Let my death be
like the death of your Just One,
let my life be where he is."
How beautiful are your tents...