In fact, the song is a bit 'dated and should be updated, even the over-emphasis and the rhetoric of nineteenth-century should be reviewed . "Red is a flower blooming in his chest, a faith is born in my heart" duretta to sing now, but a shred of hope that ideal not We would be wrong. Indeed, we would hold together.
the Mica dictatorship of the proletariat, for heaven's sake. Even allegedly brothers all want to be in the worker's family , right just enough of human solidarity and vision of the future. For everyone. Whatever. In equal and fair though.
Bonne Anne Madames et Messieurs
Comrades, forward ! The large party
us we are a tiller.
Red is a flower blooming in his chest,
a faith is born in my heart.
we're not in the workshop,
by land, through the fields, in the sea,
To work the mob always china
without ideal to hope for.
Up, lottiam! The ideal
our will finally
the International
future humanity.
A large banner, the sun blazing,
before us is glorious.
We want it down to, broken,
chains to freedom.
What we ask is justice:
no longer servants, no more Mister,
brothers all want to be
in the worker's family.
Up, lottiam! Ideally, etc..
Lottiam, lottiam! The land is
of all property equally
More nobody 'fields give
the deed to that in other idleness is.
the machine is an ally,
not hostile to the tiller.
Yes, the victory renewed
man will give peace and love.
Next! Next! The victory
is ours and ours is the future.
civil right history
another era is about to open.
Largo us! High battle
we run for the ideal.
Come on, off! We are the rogue
Of his struggling Germinal.
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