The International Anthem: English /Français/ Русский

The song of the First and Second International, it was written by a transport worker after the Paris Commune was crushed by the French government. The song was later used as the first Soviet Union National Anthem and Anthem of the (Third) Communist International, until 1944 when the latter was disolved. Written by: Eugène Pottier - Paris, June 1871 Music by: Pierre Degeyter - 1888, The International Arise ye workers from your slumbers Arise ye prisoners of want For reason in revolt now thunders And at last ends the age of cant. Away with all your superstitions Servile masses arise, arise We’ll change henceforth the old tradition And spurn the dust to win the prize. Refrain: So comrades, come rally And the last fight let us face The Internationale unites the human race. 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. No saviour from on high delivers No faith have we in prince or peer Our own right hand the chains must shiver Chains of hatred, greed and fear E’er the thieves will out with their booty And give to all a happier lot. Each at the forge must do their duty And we’ll strike while the iron is hot. Adaptation of Charles H. Kerr translation from the original, for The IWW Songbook (34th Edition). Arise ye pris’ners of starvation Arise ye wretched of the earth For justice thunders condemnation A better world’s in birth! No more tradition’s chains shall bind us Arise, ye slaves, no more in thrall; The earth shall rise on new foundations We have been naught we shall be all. Refrain: ’Tis the final conflict Let each stand in his place The International Working Class Shall be the human race. We want no condescending saviors To rule us from their judgement hall We workers ask not for their favors Let us consult for all. To make the thief disgorge his booty To free the spirit from its cell We must ourselves decide our duty We must decide and do it well. The law oppresses us and tricks us, The wage slave system drains our blood; The rich are free from obligation, The laws the poor delude. Too long we’ve languished in subjection, Equality has other laws; "No rights", says she "without their duties, No claims on equals without cause." Behold them seated in their glory The kings of mine and rail and soil! What have you read in all their story, But how they plundered toil? Fruits of the workers’ toil are buried In strongholds of the idle few In working for their restitution The men will only claim their due. We toilers from all fields united Join hand in hand with all who work; The earth belongs to us, the workers, No room here for the shirk. How many on our flesh have fattened! But if the norsome birds of prey Shall vanish from the sky some morning The blessed sunlight then will stay. The Internationale Source: Eugène Pottier, Chants Révolutionnaires. Paris, Comité Pottier, [n.d. 1890-1900] Translated: for marxists.org by Mitchell Abidor Translator’s note: Eugène Pottier wrote the “Internationale” just weeks after the crushing of the Paris Commune, in June 1871. Hiding from the authorities, soon to be condemned to death in absentia, he wrote it while waiting to flee to London. Published in his 1887 collection “Chants Révolutionnaires,” it was set to music a year later by Pierre Degeyter, but did not immediately become the hymn of the international working class. In fact, in 1893, when Engels addressed the International Workers Congress in Zurich, the delegates sang the “Marseillaise.” According to the French historian Michel Winock it was the followers of Jules Guesde in the Socialist Party of France who first adopted the song at the time of the Dreyfus Affair, and it was in 1900 that they presented it at the International Congress in Paris. It was only then that the song began its conquest of the world. The following translation is a literal one of all the song’s stanzas. Most other translations are meant to be sung, and so radically change Pottier’s original sense. This is the song as Pottier wrote it. To Citizen Lefranςais, member of the Commune ’Tis the final conflict, Let us unite and tomorrow, The International Will be the human race Arise, the damned of the earth! Arise, prisoners of hunger! Reason thunders in its crater, ’Tis the eruption of the end. Let’s make a clean slate of the past, Enslaved mass, arise, arise! The world’s foundation will change, We are nothing, now let’s be all! There are no supreme saviors, Neither God, nor Caesar nor tribune; Producers, let us save ourselves, We decree common salvation! So that the thief should offer us his throat So that spirit be wrested from its cell, Let us fan the forge’s flames ourselves And strike while the iron is hot. The state represses, the law cheats, Taxes bleed the poor; No duties are imposed on the rich, The rights of the poor are empty words, We have languished long enough under domination, Equality wants other laws: “No rights without duties,” it says “Equals, there are no duties without rights.” Hideous in their apotheosis, The kings of mines and rails, Have they ever done aught But rob from labor? In the safes of that gang What is created is smelted, By decreeing that they turn it over The people only want what is their due. Kings intoxicated us with smoke, Peace among us, war on tyrants! Let’s apply the strike to armies, Rifle butts raised on high and breaking ranks. And if they insist, those cannibals, On making heroes of us, They’ll soon learn that our bullets Are for our own generals. Workers, farmers, we are The great party of the workers, The earth belongs only to men, Idlers can go someplace else. How many on our flesh eat their fill? But if the ravens, the vultures One morning disappeared The sun would shine still! ’Tis the final conflict Let us unite and tomorrow, The International Will be the human race — Paris, June 1871 The International Marching Song of the Revolutionary Proletariat Source: The Weekly People, April 26th, 1924. Also Published: in May Day vs. Labor Day, Olive M. Johnson, Socialist Labor Party pamphlet, 1936; Daniel De Leon editorial “Damned Men of Toil,” Daily People, 1912. Transcribed: by Alan Barbour. Sheet Music: The International. Marching Song of the Revolutionary Proletariat; Source: Sheet Music Collection (University of Illinois at Chicago); Published: by Labor News Co., 45 Rose St., New York City (S.L.P.), 1911. 1. 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. (Chorus) ‘Tis the last call [Alt. “cause”[1]] to battle! Close the ranks, each in place, The staunch old International Shall be the Human race. (Repeat Chorus) [Evidently alternate first two lines of Chorus, “’Tis the class-strife’s triumphant, last and mighty tug-of-war!”[2]] 2. 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. (Chorus) 3. 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.” (Chorus) 4. 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. (Chorus) 5. 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! (Chorus) 1. Helen Keller to Eugene V. Debs, 1919. 2. Daniel De Leon editorial “Damned Men of Toil,” Daily People, 1912 L’Internationale The original lyrics in French. Debout! les damnés de la terre Debout! les forçats de la faim La raison tonne en son cratère, C’est l’éruption de la fin. Du passé faisons table rase Foule esclave, debout! debout! Le monde va changer de base Nous ne sommes rien, soyons tout! Refrain C’est la lutte finale Groupons-nous et demain L’Internationale Sera le genre humain. Il n’est pas de sauveurs suprêmes: Ni dieu, ni césar, ni tribun, Producteurs, sauvons-nous nous-mêmes! Décrétons le salut commun! Pour que le voleur rende gorge, Pour tirer l’esprit du cachot Soufflons nous-mêmes notre forge, Battons le fer quand il est chaud! L’etat opprime et la loi triche, L’impôt saigne le malheureux, Nul devoir ne s’impose au riche, Le droit du pauvre est un mot creux. C’est assez languir en tutelle, L’égalité veut d’autres lois; «Pas de droits sans devoirs», dit-elle, «Egaux, pas de devoirs sans droits!» Hideux dans leur apothéose, Les rois de la mine et du rail Ont-ils jamais fait autre chose Que dévaliser le travail? Dans les coffres-forts de la bande Ce qu’il a créé s’est fondu. En décrétant qu’on le lui rende Le peuple ne veut que son dû. Les rois nous saoulaient de fumées. Paix entre nous, guerre aux tyrans! Appliquons la grève aux armées, Crosse en l’air et rompons les rangs! S’ils s’obstinent, ces cannibales, A faire de nous des héros, Ils sauront bientôt que nos balles Sont pour nos propres généraux. Ouvriers, paysans, nous sommes Le grand parti des travailleurs; La terre n’appartient qu’aux hommes, L’oisif ira loger ailleurs. Combien de nos chairs se repaissent! Mais si les corbeaux, les vautours, Un de ces matins disparaissent, Le soleil brillera toujours! Интернационал Lyrics: A. Kots Вставай проклятьем заклейменный, Весь мир голодных и рабов! Кипит наш разум возмущённый И в смертный бой вести готов. Весь мир насилья мы разрушим До основанья, а затем Мы наш мы новый мир построим, Кто был никем тот станет всем! Припев: Это есть наш последний И решительный бой С Интернационалом Воспрянет род людской Никто не даст нам избавленья: Ни бог, ни царь и не герой Добьёмся мы освобожденья Своею собственной рукой. Чтоб свергнуть гнёт рукой умелой, Отвоевать своё добро, Вздувайте горн и куйте смело, Пока железо горячо! Довольно кровь сосать вампиры, Тюрьмой , налогом нищетой! У вас - вся власть, все блага мира, А наше право - звук пустой! Мы жизнь построим по иному И вот наш лозунг боевой: Вся власть народу трудовому! А дармоедов всех долой! Презренны вы в своём богатстве, Угля и стали короли! Вы ваши троны тунеядцы, На наших спинах возвели. Заводы , фабрики, палаты - Всё нашим создано трудом. Пора! Мы требуем возврата Того что взято грабежём. Довольно, королям в угоду, Дурманить нас в чаду войны! Война тиранам! Мир Народу! Бастуйте армии сыны! Когда ж тираны нас заставят В бою геройски пасть за них Убийцы в вас тогда направим Мы жерла пушек боевых! Лишь мы, работники всемирной Великой армии труда! Владеть землёй имеем право, Но паразиты - никогда! И если гром великий грянет Над сворой псов и палачей, Для нас всё также солнце станет Сиять огнём своих лучей. Vstavaj prokliatem zaklejmennyj, Ves mir golodnykh i rabov! Kipit nash razum vozmushchionnyj I v smertnyj boj vesti gotov. Ves mir nasilia my razrushim Do osnovania, a zatem My nash my novyj mir postroim, Kto byl nikem tot stanet vsem! Pripev: Ehto est nash poslednij I reshitelnyj boj S Internatsionalom Vosprianet rod liudskoj Nikto ne dast nam izbavlenia: Ni bog, ni tsar i ne geroj Dobiomsia my osvobozhdenia Svoeiu sobstvennoj rukoj. Chtob svergnut gniot rukoj umeloj, Otvoevat svoio dobro, Vzduvajte gorn i kujte smelo, Poka zhelezo goriacho! Dovolno krov sosat vampiry, Tiurmoj , nalogom nishchetoj! U vas - vsia vlast, vse blaga mira, A nashe pravo - zvuk pustoj! My zhizn postroim po inomu I vot nash lozung boevoj: Vsia vlast narodu trudovomu! A darmoedov vsekh doloj! Prezrenny vy v svoiom bogatstve, Uglia i stali koroli! Vy vashi trony tuneiadtsy, Na nashikh spinakh vozveli. Zavody, fabriki, palaty - Vsio nashim sozdano trudom. Pora! My trebuem vozvrata Togo chto vziato grabezhiom. Dovolno, koroliam v ugodu, Durmanit nas v chadu vojny! Vojna tiranam! Mir Narodu! Bastujte armii syny! Kogda zh tirany nas zastaviat V boiu gerojski past za nikh Ubijtsy v vas togda napravim My zherla pushek boevykh! Lish my, rabotniki vsemirnoj Velikoj armii truda! Vladet zemlioj imeem pravo, No parazity - nikogda! I esli grom velikij grianet Nad svoroj psov i palachej, Dlia nas vsio takzhe solntse stanet Siiat ogniom svoikh luchej.