The Internationale — Song of a Revolutionary World

 

Originally written in French, after the fall of the Paris Commune,  by the revolutionary exile Eugene Pottier —  the Internationale has become the global anthem of the international working class.

A film history of the Internationale Part 1, Part 2

The version sung in Britain

The original (in French) is at the left — and a literal translation into english is at the right. 

French lyrics	Literal English translation
First stanza
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 Foules, esclaves, debout, debout Le monde va changer de base Nous ne sommes rien, soyons tout  |: C’est la lutte finale   Groupons-nous, et demain   L’Internationale   Sera le genre humain :|	Arise, wretched of the earth Arise, convicts of hunger Reason thunders in its volcano This is the eruption of the end Of the past let us wipe the slate clean Masses, slaves, arise, arise The world is about to change its foundation We are nothing, let us be all  |: This is the final struggle   Let us group together, and tomorrow   The Internationale   Will be the human race :|
Second stanza
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  |: C’est la lutte finale   Groupons-nous, et demain   L’Internationale   Sera le genre humain :|	There are no supreme saviours Neither God, nor Caesar, nor tribune. Producers, let us save ourselves Decree the common welfare That the thief might bare his throat, That the spirit be pulled from its prison Let us fan the forge ourselves Strike the iron while it is hot  |: This is the final struggle   Let us group together, and tomorrow   The Internationale   Will be the human race :|
Third stanza
L’état comprime 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  |: C’est la lutte finale   Groupons-nous, et demain   L’Internationale   Sera le genre humain :|	The state represses and the law cheats The tax bleeds the unfortunate No duty is imposed on the rich ‘Rights of the poor’ is a hollow phrase Enough languishing in custody Equality wants other laws: No rights without obligations, it says, And as well, no obligations without rights  |: This is the final struggle   Let us group together, and tomorrow   The Internationale   Will be the human race :|
Fourth stanza
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.  |: C’est la lutte finale   Groupons-nous, et demain   L’Internationale   Sera le genre humain :|	Hideous in their self-glorification Kings of the mine and rail Have they ever done anything other Than steal work? Into the coffers of that lot, What work creates has melted In demanding that they give it back The people wants only its due.  |: This is the final struggle   Let us group together, and tomorrow   The Internationale   Will be the human race :|
Fifth stanza
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  |: C’est la lutte finale   Groupons-nous, et demain   L’Internationale   Sera le genre humain :|	The kings make us drunk with their fumes, Peace among ourselves, war to the tyrants! Let the armies go on strike, Guns in the air, and break ranks If these cannibals insist On making heroes of us, Soon they will know our bullets Are for our own generals  |: This is the final struggle   Let us group together, and tomorrow   The Internationale   Will be the human race :|
Sixth stanza
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.  |: C’est la lutte finale   Groupons-nous, et demain   L’Internationale   Sera le genre humain :|	Labourers, peasants, we are The great party of workers The earth belongs only to men The idle will go reside elsewhere How much of our flesh they feed on, But if the ravens and vultures Disappear one of these days The sun will always shine  |: This is the final struggle   Let us group together, and tomorrow   The Internationale   Will be the human race :|

 

 

EUGÈNE POTTIER
On THE 25TH ANNIVERSARY OF HIS DEATH

by V.I. Lenin 1913)

Published: First published in Pravda No. 2, January 3, 1913. Printed from the Pravda text. Signed: N. L..
Source: Lenin Collected Works, Progress Publishers, 1971, Moscow, Volume 36, pages 223-224.
Online: Marxists.org

In November of last year—1912—it was twenty-five years since the death of the French worker-poet, Eugène Pottier, author of the famous proletarian song, the Internationale (“Arise ye starvelings from your slumbers”, etc.).

This song has been translated into all European and other languages. In whatever country a class-conscious worker finds himself, wherever fate may cast him, however much he may feel himself a stranger, without language, without friends, far from his native country—he can find himself comrades and friends by the familiar refrain of the Internationale.

The workers of all countries have adopted the song of their foremost fighter, the proletarian poet, and have made it the world-wide song of the proletariat.

And so the workers of all countries now honour the memory of Eugène Pottier. His wife and daughter are still alive and living in poverty, as the author of the Internationale lived all his life. He was born in Paris on October 4, 1816. He was 14 when he composed his first song, and it was called: Long Live Liberty! In 1848 he was a fighter on the barricades in the workers’ great battle against the bourgeoisie.

Pottier was born into a poor family, and all his life remained a poor man, a proletarian, earning his bread as a packer and later by tracing patterns on fabrics.

From 1840 onwards, he responded to all great events in the life of France with militant songs, awakening the consciousness of the backward, calling on the workers to unite, castigating the bourgeoisie and the bourgeois governments of France.

In the days of the great Paris Commune (1871), Pettier was elected a member. Of the 3,600 votes cast, he received 3,352. He took part in all the activities of the Commune, that first proletarian government.

The fall of the Commune forced Pettier to flee to England, and then to America. His famous song, the Internationale, was written in June 1871—you might say, the day after the bloody defeat in May.

The Commune was crushed—but Pottier’s Internationale spread its ideas throughout the world, and it is now more alive than ever before.

In 1876, in exile, Pettier wrote a poem, The Workingmen of America to the Workingmen of France. In it he described the life of workers under the yoke of capitalism, their poverty, their back-breaking toil, their exploitation, and their firm confidence in the coming victory of their cause.

It was only nine years after the Commune that Pottier returned to France, where he at once joined the Workers’ Party. The first volume of his verse was published in 1884, the second volume, entitled Revolutionary Songs, came out in 1887.

A number of other songs by the worker-poet were published after his death.

On November 8, 1887, the workers of Paris carried the remains of Eugène Pottier to the Père Lachaise cemetery, where the executed Communards are buried. The police savagely attacked the crowd in an effort to snatch the red banner. A vast crowd took part in the civic funeral. On all sides there were shouts of “Long live Pottier!”

Pottier died in poverty. But he left a memorial which is truly more enduring than the handiwork of man. He was one of the greatest propagandists by song. When he was composing his first song, the number of worker socialists ran to tens, at most. Eugène Pottier’s historic song is now known to tens of millions of proletarians.