Arise, children of the Fatherland, The day of glory has arrived! Against us tyranny Raises its bloody banner Do you hear, in the countryside, The roar of those ferocious soldiers? They're coming right into your arms To cut the throats of your sons and women!

To arms, citizens, Form your battalions, Let's march, let's march! Let the impure blood Water our furrows!

What does this horde of slaves, Of traitors and conjured kings want? For whom are these vile chains, These long-prepared irons? Frenchmen, for us, ah! What outrage! What fury must it arouse! It is us they dare plan To return to the old slavery!

To arms, citizens, Form your battalions, Let's march, let's march! Let the impure blood Water our furrows!

What! Foreign cohorts Would make the law in our homes! What! These mercenary phalanxes Would strike down our proud warriors! Great God! By chained hands Our brows would yield under the yoke Vile despots would have themselves The masters of our destinies!

To arms, citizens, Form your battalions, Let's march, let's march! Let the impure blood Water our furrows!

Tremble, tyrants and you traitors The shame of all parties, Tremble! Your parricidal schemes Will finally receive their reward! Everyone is a soldier to fight you If they fall, our young heroes, The earth will produce new ones, Ready to fight against you!

To arms, citizens, Form your battalions, Let's march, let's march! Let the impure blood Water our furrows!

Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors, Bear or hold back your blows! You spare those sorry victims, Who arm against us with regret. But not these bloodthirsty despots, These accomplices of Bouillé, All these tigers who, mercilessly, Rip their mother's breast!

To arms, citizens, Form your battalions, Let's march, let's march! Let the impure blood Water our furrows!

Sacred love of the Fatherland, Lead, support our avenging arms Liberty, cherished Liberty, Fight with your defenders! Under our flags, shall victory Hurry to thy manly accents, That your expiring enemies, See your triumph and our glory!

To arms, citizens, Form your battalions, Let's march, let's march! Let the impure blood Water our furrows!

We shall enter the (military) career When our elders are no longer there, There we shall find their dust And the trace of their virtues Much less keen to survive them Than to share their coffins, We shall have the sublime pride Of avenging or following them

Children, let Honour and Fatherland be the object of all our wishes! Let us always have souls nourished With fires that might inspire both Let us be united! Anything is possible; Our vile enemies will fall, Then the French will cease To sing this fierce refrain: