Il Galeone
Les Anarchistes
The Galleon
We are the anemic crew
of a infamous galley
where death swiftly
reaps for slow hunger.
Never clear horizons
open our dawn
and on the squalid deck
the watch always screams.
Our days fly away
amongst foul hulls
we are thin, gaunt slaves
bound in iron chains.
The moon rises on the sea
the stars rotate in the sky
but on our lights
a funereal veil is laid.
Hordes of burnt slaves
bent over groaning on the oar
we break these chains
or bend to row until we die!
What is it, groaning slaves
this rowing, rowing?
Better to die among the waves
on the whitening sea.
Let's row until the ship
crashes on the breakers
high the red suns
amidst the whistling of the winds!
And may the foamy and fierce wave
be a merciful shroud
but may one day rise on the martyrs
the sun of anarchy.
On slaves to arms to arms!
The wave gurgles and rises
tunder, lightning, and thunder
on the fatal galleon.
On slaves to arms to arms!
We fight with strong arms!
We swear, we swear justice!
Or freedom or death!
We swear, we swear justice!
Or freedom or death!
