Eugène Edine Pottier

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.

Eugène Edine Pottier (French: [pɔtje]; 4 October 1816 – 6 November 1887) was a French revolutionary, anarchist, poet, freemason and transport worker. Pottier was elected a member of the Paris municipal council - the Paris Commune, in March 1871. Following the Commune's defeat, in June 1871 he wrote the poem L'Internationale, which became the International Workingmen's Association anthem during its last years (1871–1876), and has been used by most socialist and leftist political internationals since.

Quotes

• On l'a tuée à coups de chassepot
  A coups de mitrailleuse,
  Et roulée avec son drapeau
  Dans la terre argileuse.
  Et la tourbe des bourreaux gras
  Se croyait la plus forte.
  Tout ça n'empêche pas, Nicolas
  Qu'la Commune n'est pas morte.
  • They killed her with their chassepot,
    With their machine guns,
    And rolled her with its flag
    In the clay.
    And the mud of the fat hangmen
    thought they had prevailed.
    And with all that, Nicolas,
    The Commune is not dead.
  • Elle n'est pas morte ! (1886).

The Internationale (1864)

Translation of The Internationale (1864) on Wikisource.

• Debout, les damnés de la terre
  Debout, les forçats de la faim
  La raison tonne en son cratère
  C'est l'éruption de la fin
  Du passé faisons table rase
  Foule esclave, debout, debout
  Le monde va changer de base
  Nous ne sommes rien, soyons tout
  • 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.

• C'est la lutte finale
  Groupons-nous, et demain
  L'Internationale
  Sera le genre humain
  • This is the final struggle
    Let us group together, and tomorrow
    The Internationale
    Will be the human race

• Il n'est pas de sauveurs suprêmes
  Ni Dieu, ni César, ni tribun
  Producteurs, sauvons-nous nous-mêmes
  Décrétons le salut commun
  Pour que le voleur rende gorge
  Pour tirer l'esprit du cachot
  Soufflons nous-mêmes notre forge
  Battons le fer quand il est chaud
  • 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.

• L'État comprime et la loi triche
  L'impôt saigne le malheureux
  Nul devoir ne s'impose au riche
  Le droit du pauvre est un mot creux
  C'est assez, languir en tutelle
  L'égalité veut d'autres lois
  Pas de droits sans devoirs dit-elle
  Égaux, pas de devoirs sans droits
  • 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.

• Hideux dans leur apothéose
  Les rois de la mine et du rail
  Ont-ils jamais fait autre chose
  Que dévaliser le travail ?
  Dans les coffres-forts de la bande
  Ce qu'il a créé s'est fondu
  En décrétant qu'on le lui rende
  Le peuple ne veut que son dû.
  • 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.

• Les rois nous saoulaient de fumées
  Paix entre nous, guerre aux tyrans
  Appliquons la grève aux armées
  Crosse en l'air, et rompons les rangs
  S'ils s'obstinent, ces cannibales
  À faire de nous des héros
  Ils sauront bientôt que nos balles
  Sont pour nos propres généraux
  • 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.

• 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.
  • 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.

External links

• Encyclopedic article on Eugène Edine Pottier on Wikipedia
• Works related to Author:Eugène Pottier on Wikisource
• Media related to Eugène Edine Pottier on Wikimedia Commons