“Let us go, children of the Fatherland
The day of glory has arrived.
Against us is tyranny,
The bloody flag is raised,
The bloody flag is raised.
Do you hear in the countryside
The roar of these savage soldiers
They come right into our arms
To slaughter your sons,
your companions.
To arms, citizens!
Form your battalions,
March on, March on!
That their impure blood
Should water our fields
What do they want this horde of slaves
Of traitors and conspiratorial kings?
For whom these vile chains
These long-prepared irons?
Frenchmen, for us, ah! What outrage
What methods must be taken?
It is we they dare plan
To return to the old slavery!
To arms, citizens!
Form your battalions,
March on, March on!
That their impure blood
Should water our fields
What! These foreign cohorts!
They would make laws in our courts!
What! These mercenary phalanxes
Would cut down our warrior sons
Good Lord! By chained hands
Our brow would yield under the yoke
The vile despots would make themselves
The masters of destiny
To arms, citizens!
Form your battalions,
March on, March on!
That their impure blood
Should water our fields
Tremble, tyrants and traitors
The shame of all good men
Tremble! Your parricidal schemes
Will receive their just reward
Against you we are all soldiers
If they fall, our young heroes
France will bear new ones
Ready to join the fight against you
To arms, citizens!
Form your battalions,
March on, March on!
That their impure blood
Should water our fields
Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors
Bear or hold back your wounds
Spare these sad victims
That they regret taking up arms against us
But not these bloody despots
These accomplices of Bouillé
All these tigers who pitilessly
Ripped out their mothers´ wombs
To arms, citizens!
Form your battalions,
March on, March on!
That their impure blood
Should water our fields
We shall enter into the pit
When our elders will no longer be there
There we shall find their ashes
And the mark of their virtues
We are much less jealous to survive them
Than of sharing their coffins
We shall have the sublime pride
Of avenging or joining them
To arms, citizens!
Form your battalions,
March on, March on!
That their impure blood
Should water our fields
Sacred love of the fatherland
Guide and support our vengeful arms.
Liberty, beloved liberty,
Fight with your defenders;
Fight with your defenders.
Under our flags, so that victory
Will rush to your manly strains;
That your dying enemies
Should see your triumph and glory
To arms, citizens!
Form your battalions,
March on, March on!
That their impure blood
Should water our fields”
La Marseillaise en anglais...O_o