Die Internationale Raumstation
Let the flames in the furnace burn red-hot, For only when the iron is hot will we succeed in forging it! U vas - vsia vlast, vse blaga mira, A nashe pravo - zvuk pustoj!
So comrades, come rally And the last fight let us face The Internationale unites the human race. Adaptation of Charles H. 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 theif 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. What have you read in all their story, But how they plundered toil? 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. Hiding from the authorities, soon to be condemned to death in absentia, he wrote it while waiting to flee to London.
It was only then that the song began its conquest of the world. This is the song as Pottier wrote it.
Arise, prisoners of hunger! There are no supreme saviors, Neither God, nor Caesar nor tribune; Producers, let us save ourselves, We decree common salvation! 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: 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! 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! The Weekly People , April 26th, Labor Day , Olive M. Marching Song of the Revolutionary Proletariat ; Source: Ye galley-slaves of want. Close the ranks, each in place, The staunch old International Shall be the Human race. 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! Helen Keller to Eugene V. Le monde va changer de base Nous ne sommes rien, soyons tout!
The title arises from the " First International ", an alliance of workers which held a congress in Thus "The Internationale" gained an identity that was entirely distinct, and no longer in any way directly tied to the French national anthem, the Marseillaise.
In a successful attempt to save Pierre De Geyter's job as a woodcarver, the 6, leaflets printed by Lille printer Bolboduc only mentioned the French version of his family name Degeyter. Pierre De Geyter lost the first copyright case in , but after his brother committed suicide and left a note explaining the fraud, Pierre was declared the copyright owner by a court of appeal in In "Montana Edition", owned by Hans R. Pierre De Geyter died in , causing the copyrights to expire in As the "Internationale" music was published before 1 July outside the United States of America , it is in the public domain in the United States.
Gustave Delory once acquired the copyright of his lyrics through the songwriter G B Clement having bought it from Pottier's widow. Chorus 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.
Stand up, damned of the Earth Stand up, prisoners of starvation Reason thunders in its volcano This is the eruption of the end. Of the past let us make a clean slate Enslaved masses, stand up, stand up. The world is about to change its foundation We are nothing, let us be all. Chorus This is the final struggle Let us group together, and tomorrow The Internationale Will be the human race.
There are no supreme saviours Neither God, nor Caesar , nor tribune. Producers, let us save ourselves, Decree the common salvation. So that the thief expires, So that the spirit be pulled from its prison, Let us fan our forge ourselves Strike the iron while it is hot.
Chorus The State oppresses and the law cheats. Tax bleeds the unfortunate. No duty is imposed on the rich; The rights of the poor is an empty phrase. Enough languishing in custody! Equality wants other laws: No rights without duties, she says, Equally, no duties without rights. Chorus Hideous in their apotheosis The kings of the mine and of the rail. Have they ever done anything other Than steal work? Inside the safeboxes of the gang, What work had created melted.
By ordering that they give it back, The people want only their due. Chorus The kings made us drunk with fumes, Peace among us, war to the tyrants! Let the armies go on strike, Stocks in the air, and break ranks.
If they insist, these cannibals On making heroes of us, They will know soon that our bullets Are for our own generals. Chorus Workers, peasants, we are The great party of labourers. The earth belongs only to men; The idle will go to reside elsewhere. How much of our flesh have they consumed?
But if these ravens, these vultures Disappear one of these days, The sun will still shine forever. When numerous East Germans were arrested for protesting the 40th anniversary celebrations for the GDR, several of them sang the hymn in police custody to embarrass their captors, and imply that they had abandoned the socialist cause they were supposed to serve.
Luckhardt's version, the standard German translation, of the final line of the chorus tellingly reads: The Internationale will win our human rights.
It was coupled with the chant: One such version served as the de facto anthem of the Communist Party of China ,  the national anthem of the Chinese Soviet Republic ,  as well as a rallying song of the students and workers at the Tiananmen Square protests of The first Russian version consisted of three stanzas as opposed to six stanzas in the original French lyrics, and based on stanzas 1, 2 and 6 and the refrain.
After the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia, the text was slightly re-worded to get rid of "now useless" future tenses — particularly the refrain was reworded the future tense was replaced by the present, and the first person plural possessive pronoun was introduced. In , the chief-editor of Izvestia , Yuri Steklov , appealed to Russian writers to translate the other three stanzas and in the end, the song was expanded into six stanzas.
Prior to that time, "The Internationale" served as the principal musical expression of allegiance to the ideals of the October Revolution and the Soviet Union the "Internationale" continued to be recognized as the official song of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union , and the post Soviet version is still used by the Communist Party of the Russian Federation.
The full song is as follows:. Kipit nash razum vozmushchyonnyy I v smertnyy boy vesti gotov. A darmoyedov vsekh doloy! Chorus Prezrenny vy v svoyom bogatstve, Uglya i stali koroli! Vy vashi trony, tuneyadtsy, Na nashikh spinakh vozveli. Zavody, fabriki, palaty — Vsyo nashim sozdano trudom. My trebuyem vozvrata Togo, chto vzyato grabezhom. Stand up, ones who are branded by the curse, All the world's starving and enslaved!
Our outraged minds are boiling, Ready to lead us into a deadly fight. We will destroy this world of violence Down to the foundations, and then We will build our new world. He who was nothing will become everything! Chorus This is our final and decisive battle; With the Internationale humanity will rise up! No one will grant us deliverance, Not god, nor tsar, nor hero. We will win our liberation, With our very own hands.
To throw down oppression with a skilled hand, To take back what is ours — Fire up the furnace and hammer boldly, while the iron is still hot! Chorus You've sucked enough of our blood, you vampires, With prison, taxes and poverty! You have all the power, all the blessings of the world, And our rights are but an empty sound! We'll make our own lives in a different way — And here is our battle cry: All the power to the people of labour!
And away with all the parasites! Chorus Contemptible you are in your wealth, You kings of coal and steel! You had your thrones, parasites, At our backs erected. All the factories, all the chambers — All were made by our hands. We demand the return Of that which was stolen from us. Chorus Enough of the will of kings Stupefying us into the haze of war! War to the tyrants! Peace to the people! Go on strike, sons of the army! And if the tyrants tell us To fall heroically in battle for them — Then, murderers, we will point The muzzles of our cannons at you!
Chorus Only we, the workers of the worldwide Great army of labour, Have the right to own the land, But the parasites — never! And if the great thunder rolls Over the pack of dogs and executioners, For us, the sun will forever Shine on with its fiery beams. The traditional British version of "The Internationale" is usually sung in three verses, while the American version, written by Charles Hope Kerr with five verses, is usually sung in two.
Bragg thought the traditional English lyrics were archaic and unsingable Scottish musician Dick Gaughan  and former Labour MP Tony Benn  disagreed , and composed a new set of lyrics. Arise, ye workers from your slumber, 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!
Chorus 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.
Chorus 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 to all give a happier lot. Each at his forge must do their duty, And we'll strike the iron while it's hot.
Stand up, all victims of oppression, For the tyrants fear your might! Don't cling so hard to your possessions, For you have nothing if you have no rights! Let racist ignorance be ended, For respect makes the empires fall! Freedom is merely privilege extended, Unless enjoyed by one and all. Chorus So come brothers and sisters, For the struggle carries on. The Internationale Unites the world in song.