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L'Internationale

Eugène Pottier
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INGLESE [12] / ENGLISH [12] - THE WORKERS INTERNATIONAL
THE INTERNATIONAL

Stand up! Ye wretched ones who labor,
    Stand up! Ye galley-slaves of want.
Man’s reason thunders from its crater,
    ‘Tis th’ eruption naught can daunt.
Of the past let us cleanse the tables,
    Mass enslaved, fling back the call,
Old Earth is changing her foundations,
    We have been nothing, now be all.

‘Tis the last call [1] to battle!
Close the ranks, each in place, [2]
The staunch old International 
Shall be the Human race.
‘Tis the last call to battle!
Close the ranks, each in place,
The staunch old International 
Shall be the Human race.

There are no saviors e’er will help us,
Nor God, nor Caesar, nor Tribune,
’tis ours, O workers, must the blows be
    That shall win the common boon.
From the thief to wring his stolen booty,
    From the its prison to free the soul.
’tis we ourselves must ply the bellows,
    ‘Tis we must beat the anvil’s roll.

‘Tis the last call to battle!
Close the ranks, each in place,
The staunch old International 
Shall be the Human race.
‘Tis the last call to battle!
Close the ranks, each in place,
The staunch old International 
Shall be the Human race.

The state is false, the law mockery,
    And exploitation bows us down;
The rich man flaunts without a duty,
    And the poor man’s rights are none.
Long enough have we in swaddling languished,
    Lo, Equality’s new law
“Away with rights that know no duties,
    Away with duties shorn of rights.”

‘Tis the last call to battle!
Close the ranks, each in place,
The staunch old International 
Shall be the Human race.
‘Tis the last call to battle!
Close the ranks, each in place,
The staunch old International 
Shall be the Human race.

All hideous in their brutal lordship
    Stand king of mill and mine and rail.
When have they e'er performed a service,
    Or at work done aught but quail?
In the coffers of these robber barons,
    Blind the world’s great wealth is thrown,
In summ'ning them to restitution,
    The people seeks but what’s its own.

‘Tis the last call to battle!
Close the ranks, each in place,
The staunch old International 
Shall be the Human race.
‘Tis the last call to battle!
Close the ranks, each in place,
The staunch old International 
Shall be the Human race.

Toilers from shop and field united,
    The Party we of all who work;
The earth belongs to those who labor,
    Hence! the idler and the shirk!
Say, how many on our flesh have feasted?
    But if all this vampire flight
Should vanish from the sky some morning,
The sun will still shine on us as bright!

‘Tis the last call to battle!
Close the ranks, each in place,
The staunch old International 
Shall be the Human race.
‘Tis the last call to battle!
Close the ranks, each in place,
The staunch old International 
Shall be the Human race.
THE WORKERS INTERNATIONAL

Arise ye toilers of all nations
Condemned to misery and woe
To hell with humbleness and patience
Give deadly battle to the foe
Wipe out the rule of wealthy classes
Arise and smash your thraldom chains
Let power be wielded by the masses
Let those who labour hold the reins.

Proletarians rally
For the final high fight
Internationally
All toiling folks unite
Internationally
All toiling folks unite

No God, no king, no politician
Can win for us a better day
So let us drop the old tradition
Forge weapons for the coming fray
Roll up your sleeves you working fellows
Put fire beneath the melting pot
Set up the forge and blow the bellows
Lets strike the iron while its hot

Proletarians rally
For the final high fight
Internationally
All toiling folks unite
Internationally
All toiling folks unite

This earth with all its bounteous treasures
By right belongs to those who toil
No parasites of wealth or leisure
Shall claim possession of the soil
We hail the mighty tempest raging
A flash of lightening through the gloom
For us the dawn of life presaging
For them that knell the awful doom.

Proletarians rally
For the final high fight
Internationally
All toiling folks unite
Internationally
All toiling folks unite.
[1] Alt. Cause.

[2] Alt. First 2 verses:
Tis the class-strife’s triumphant, 
last and mighty tug-of-war!


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