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  • 프랑스 애국가 라 마르세예즈(La Marseillaise)
  • sukie
    Jul 17, 2016
  • paris1.jpg



    La Marseillaise

    French National Anthem


    composed by Claude-Joseph Rouget de Lisle in 1792 


    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:

     

    To arms, citizens,

    Form your battalions,

    Let's march, let's march!

    Let the impure blood

    Water our furrows!


    *라 마르세예즈 La Marseillaise - YouTube



    paris2.jpg

    베르사이유 궁전



    French National Anthem

    La Marseillaise

     

    Allons enfants de la Patrie,

    Le jour de gloire est arrivé !

    Contre nous de la tyrannie,

    L'étendard sanglant est levé, (bis)

    Entendez-vous dans les campagnes

    Mugir ces féroces soldats ?

    Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras

    Égorger vos fils, vos compagnes !

     

    Aux armes, citoyens,

    Formez vos bataillons,

    Marchons, marchons !

    Qu'un sang impur

    Abreuve nos sillons !

     

    Que veut cette horde d'esclaves,

    De traîtres, de rois conjurés ?

    Pour qui ces ignobles entraves,

    Ces fers dès longtemps préparés ? (bis)

    Français, pour nous, ah ! quel outrage !

    Quels transports il doit exciter !

    C'est nous qu'on ose méditer

    De rendre à l'antique esclavage !

     

    Aux armes, citoyens,

    Formez vos bataillons,

    Marchons, marchons !

    Qu'un sang impur

    Abreuve nos sillons !

     

    Quoi ! des cohortes étrangères

    Feraient la loi dans nos foyers !

    Quoi ! ces phalanges mercenaires

    Terrasseraient nos fiers guerriers ! (bis)

    Grand Dieu ! par des mains enchaînées

    Nos fronts sous le joug se ploieraient

    De vils despotes deviendraient

    Les maîtres de nos destinées !

     

    Aux armes, citoyens,

    Formez vos bataillons,

    Marchons, marchons !

    Qu'un sang impur

    Abreuve nos sillons !

     

    Tremblez, tyrans et vous perfides

    L'opprobre de tous les partis,

    Tremblez ! vos projets parricides

    Vont enfin recevoir leurs prix ! (bis)

    Tout est soldat pour vous combattre,

    S'ils tombent, nos jeunes héros,

    La terre en produit de nouveaux,

    Contre vous tout prêts à se battre !

     

    Aux armes, citoyens,

    Formez vos bataillons,

    Marchons, marchons !

    Qu'un sang impur

    Abreuve nos sillons !

     

    Français, en guerriers magnanimes,

    Portez ou retenez vos coups !

    Épargnez ces tristes victimes,

    À regret s'armant contre nous. (bis)

    Mais ces despotes sanguinaires,

    Mais ces complices de Bouillé,

    Tous ces tigres qui, sans pitié,

    Déchirent le sein de leur mère !

     

    Aux armes, citoyens,

    Formez vos bataillons,

    Marchons, marchons !

    Qu'un sang impur

    Abreuve nos sillons !

     

    Amour sacré de la Patrie,

    Conduis, soutiens nos bras vengeurs

    Liberté, Liberté chérie,

    Combats avec tes défenseurs ! (bis)

    Sous nos drapeaux que la victoire

    Accoure à tes mâles accents,

    Que tes ennemis expirants

    Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire !

     

    Aux armes, citoyens,

    Formez vos bataillons,

    Marchons, marchons !

    Qu'un sang impur

    Abreuve nos sillons !

     

    Nous entrerons dans la carrière

    Quand nos aînés n'y seront plus,

    Nous y trouverons leur poussière

    Et la trace de leurs vertus (bis)

    Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre

    Que de partager leur cercueil,

    Nous aurons le sublime orgueil

    De les venger ou de les suivre

     

    (couplet pour les enfants 2e)

     

    Enfants, que l'Honneur, la Patrie

    Fassent l'objet de tous nos vœux !

    Ayons toujours l'âme nourrie

    Des feux qu'ils inspirent tous deux. (Bis)

    Soyons unis ! Tout est possible ;

    Nos vils ennemis tomberont,

    Alors les Français cesseront

    De chanter ce refrain terrible :

     

    Aux armes, citoyens,

    Formez vos bataillons,

    Marchons, marchons !

    Qu'un sang impur

    Abreuve nos sillons !

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