Near the end of May, 1871, the proto-communist revolution in Paris known as the Commune de Paris was defeated by government troops. The revolutionary government set up by disgruntled Parisians had lasted only 72 days.
During its brief reign the Commune's government had elected Eugène Edine Pottier, an ardent revolutionary, to be a member of the Paris municipal council. After the defeat of the Commune de Paris Eugène Pottier penned the verses of a poem that he titled L'Internationale to commemorate their ideals. The poem was thoroughly imbued with a communistic character. It would be set to music by Pierre De Geyter in 1888, quickly becoming popular among revolutionaries all over the world.
L'Internationale was used as the national anthem of the Soviet Union as early as the Third Communist International in 1919. Revolutionary groups around the world have used it as their hymn, and it has been translated into dozens of languages. This song can be seen as the epitome of revolutionary and communist ideals, and can therefore be considered the anthem of the enemies of Christendom and the Church.
Listen to L'Internationale
French Lyrics:
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.
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.
C’est la lutte finale
Groupons-nous et demain
L’Internationale
Sera le genre humain.
L’État 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.
C’est la lutte finale
Groupons-nous et demain
L’Internationale
Sera le genre humain.
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 banque
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.
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.
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.
Translation:
Arise, the damned of the earth.
Arise, prisoners of hunger.
Reason thunders in its crater,
This is the eruption of the end.
Let us make a clean slate of the past,
Enslaved masses, arise, arise.
The world’s foundation will change,
We are nothing, now let’s be all.
This is the final conflict,
Let us unite and tomorrow,
The Internationale
Will be the human genre.
There are no supreme saviors,
Neither God, nor Caesar nor tribune;
Workers, let us save ourselves,
Let us decree our own common good
So that the thief should offer us his throat
So that spirit is freed from its prison,
Let us fan our forge ourselves
And strike while the iron is hot.
This is the final conflict,
Let us unite and tomorrow,
The Internationale
Will be the human genre
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,
Enough of languishing under submission,
Equality demands other laws:
No rights without duties, it says
Equals, there are no duties without rights.
This is the final conflict,
Let us unite and tomorrow,
The Internationale
Will be the human genre
Hideous in their glory,
Are the kings of mines and railroads,
Have they ever done anything other
Than rob from our labor?
Inside the safe-boxes of the bank
What our work has created is melted,
By ordering that they give it back
The people only want what is theirs.
This is the final conflict,
Let us unite and tomorrow,
The Internationale
Will be the human genre.
Kings intoxicated us with smoke,
Peace among us, war on tyrants.
Let’s apply the strike to armies,
Rifles up, let us break the ranks.
And if they insist, these cannibals,
On making heroes of us,
They’ll soon learn that our bullets
Are for our own generals.
This is the final conflict,
Let us unite and tomorrow,
The Internationale
Will be the human genre
Workers, peasants, we are
The great party of the workers,
The earth belongs only to men,
Idlers must go somewhere else.
They have eaten too much of our flesh.
But if these ravens, these vultures
Disappear one of these days,
The sun would shine forever.
This is the final conflict,
Let us unite and tomorrow,
The Internationale
Will be the human genre.
