The Internationale (new translation by Steve Bloom)
Arise, impoverished slaves of hunger
arise, ye wretched of the earth
at last, erupting from our slumber
justice thunders its rebirth.
Sweep away this epoch of oppression;
our multitude must stand up tall
and shake the earth to its foundation
we have been naught, we shall be all.
‘Tis the final battle
march as one and we’ll see
the workers’ international
unite humanity!
‘Tis the final battle
march as one and we’ll see
the workers’ international
unite humanity!