The Internationale (Pottier, English) - текст песни

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1. Arise, ye slavelings [workers], from your slumbers!
Arise, ye criminals [prisoners] of want!
For reason in revolt now thunders
And ends at last the age of cant.
Away with all your superstitions!
Servile masses, arise! arise!
We’ll change forthwith [henceforth] the old conditions [traditions]
And spurn the dust to win the prize.
Chorus
Then comrades, come let us rally
The last fight let us face
L'Internationale
Unites the human race.
2. No saviour from on high delivers;
No trust have we in prince or peer.
Our own right hands the chains must shiver:
Chains of hatred, greed and fear.
Before the thieves disgorge their booty [give up their booty]
And give to all a happier lot.
Each at his forge must do his duty
And strike the iron while 'tis hot!
3. We're tricked by laws and regulations;
The taxes strip us to the bone;
The rich enjoy the wealth of nations,
The poor have naught to call their own.
Long have we in vile bondage languished,
Yet we are equal, every one;
No rights, but duties, for the vanquished,
We claim our rights for duties done.
4. The kings of mines, and ships and railways,
Resplendent in their vulgar pride,
Have plied their task to exploit always
Those whose toil they've e'er decried.
Great is the spoil held in their coffers,
To be spent on themselves alone;
We'll seize it some day, spite of scoffers,
And feel that we have got our own.
5. The kings defile us with their powder,
We want no war within the land;
Let soldiers strike; for peace call louder,
Lay down your arms; join hand in hand.
Should these vile monsters still determine
Heroes to make us in despite,
They'll know full soon the kind of vermin
Our bullets hit in this last fight.
Alternate 5. No more deluded by reaction
On tyrants only we’ll make war
The soldiers too will take strike action
They’ll break ranks and fight no more
And if those cannibals keep trying
To sacrifice us to their pride
They soon shall hear the bullets flying
We’ll shoot the generals on our own side!
6. We peasants, artisans, and others
Enrolled among the sons of toil,
Let’s claim the earth henceforth for brothers,
Drive the indolent from the soil!
On our Flesh too Long has fed the Raven;
We’ve too long been the vulture’s prey.
But now farewell the spirit craven:
The dawn brings in a brighter day.