Saturday, November 21, 2015

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The Lyrics Of ‘La Marseillaise’, For Your Delectation….

Ed Moloney provides the words French national anthem in The Broken Elbow.
Here are the translated lyrics of the French national anthem, La Marseillaise sung with gusto at Wembley stadium tonight.
 
I thought you’d like to see what they look like. This line might get your attention: ‘Let the impure blood, Water our furrows’.

Or this: ‘They're coming right into your arms, To cut the throats of your sons and women!’ Hmmmm. Let’s hope not, but I fear that is exactly what we’ll see.

The Song of Marseillase


Arise, children of the Fatherland,
The day of glory has arrived!
Against us tyranny
Raises its bloody banner
Do you hear, in the countryside,
The roar of those ferocious soldiers?
They’re coming right into your arms
To cut the throats of your sons and women!

To arms, citizens,
Form your battalions,
Let’s march, let’s march!
Let the impure blood
Water our furrows!

What does this horde of slaves,
Of traitors and conjured kings want?
For whom are these vile chains,
These long-prepared irons?
Frenchmen, for us, ah! What outrage!
What fury must it arouse!
It is us they dare plan
To return to the old slavery!

To arms, citizens,
Form your battalions,
Let’s march, let’s march!
Let the impure blood
Water our furrows!

What! Foreign cohorts
Would make the law in our homes!
What! These mercenary phalanxes
Would strike down our proud warriors!
Great God! By chained hands
Our brows would yield under the yoke
Vile despots would have themselves
The masters of our destinies!

To arms, citizens,
Form your battalions,
Let’s march, let’s march!
Let the impure blood
Water our furrows!

Tremble, tyrants and you traitors
The shame of all parties,
Tremble! Your parricidal schemes
Will finally receive their reward!
Everyone is a soldier to fight you
If they fall, our young heroes,
The earth will produce new ones,
Ready to fight against you!

To arms, citizens,
Form your battalions,
Let’s march, let’s march!
Let the impure blood
Water our furrows!

Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors,
Bear or hold back your blows!
You spare those sorry victims,
Who arm against us with regret.
But not these bloodthirsty despots,
These accomplices of Bouillé,
All these tigers who, mercilessly,
Rip their mother’s breast!

To arms, citizens,
Form your battalions,
Let’s march, let’s march!
Let the impure blood
Water our furrows!

Sacred love of the Fatherland,
Lead, support our avenging arms
Liberty, cherished Liberty,
Fight with your defenders!
Under our flags, shall victory
Hurry to thy manly accents,
That your expiring enemies,
See your triumph and our glory!

To arms, citizens,
Form your battalions,
Let’s march, let’s march!
Let the impure blood
Water our furrows!

We shall enter the (military) career
When our elders are no longer there,
There we shall find their dust
And the trace of their virtues
Much less keen to survive them
Than to share their coffins,
We shall have the sublime pride
Of avenging or following them

Children, let Honour and Fatherland
be the object of all our wishes!
Let us always have souls nourished
With fires that might inspire both
Let us be united! Anything is possible;
Our vile enemies will fall,
Then the French will cease
To sing this fierce refrain:

To arms, citizens,
Form your battalions,
Let’s march, let’s march!
Let the impure blood
Water our furrows!

1 comments :

Ramon The Wolf said...

Thought-provoking lyrics, sung before every game played by French national teams.

In Scotland, by way of contrast, you'll get arrested for singing "Roll Of Honour" or "Boys Of The Old Brigade" at a football match. Or anything else deemed "likely to be offensive" by the police.

Legislation from the SNP, a party who pose as progressive, sometimes even radical.