Allons, enfants de la Patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé;
Contre nous de la tyrannie,
L'étendard sanglant est levé,
L'étendard sanglant est levé.
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes,
Mugir ces féroces soldats ?
Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras,
Egorger nos fils nos compagnes
Aux armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons.
Marchons, marchons!
Qu'un sang impur,
abreuve nos sillons!
Amour sacré de la Patrie,
Conduis soutiens nos bras vengeurs.
Liberté, liberté chérie
Combats avec tes défenseurs!
Combats avec tes défenseurs!
Sous nos drapeaux, que ta victoire
Accours à tes mâles accents!
Que tes ennemis expirants,
Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire!
Aux armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons.
Marchons, marchons!
Qu'un sang impur,
abreuve nos sillons!
Nous entrerons dans la carrière,
Quand nos ainés n'y serons plus!
Nous y trouverons leur poussière
Et la trace de leur vertu!
Et la trace de leur vertu!
Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre
Que de partager leur cercueil
Nous aurons le sublime orgueil
de les venger ou de les suivre
Aux armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons.
Marchons, marchons!
Qu'un sang impur,
abreuve nos sillons!
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Arise you children of our Motherland,
Oh now is here our glorious day!
Over us the bloodstained banner
Of tyranny holds sway!
Of tyranny holds sway!
Oh do you hear there in our fields
The roar of those fierce fighting men?
Who came right here into our midst
To slaughter sons, wifes and kin.
To arms, oh citizens!
Form up in serried ranks!
March on, march on!
And drench our fields
With their tainted blood!
Supreme devotion to our Motherland,
Guides and sustains avenging hands.
Liberty, oh dearest Liberty,
Come fight with your shieldings bands.
Come fight with your shieldings bands!
Beneath our banner come, oh Victory,
Run at your soul-stirring cry.
Oh come, come see your foes now die,
Witness your pride and our glory.
To arms, oh citizens!
Form up in serried ranks!
March on, march on!
And drench our fields
With their tainted blood!
Into the fight we to shall enter,
When our fathers are dead and gone,
We shall find their bones laid down to rest,
With the fame of their glories won,
With the fame of their glories won!
Oh, to survive them care we not,
Glad are we to share their grave,
Great honor is to be our lot
To follow or to venge our brave
To arms, oh citizens!
Form up in serried ranks!
March on, march on!
And drench our fields
With their tainted blood!
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