Himno Nacional de Mexico

Mexicans to the cry of war
Ready the steel and the horse.
And may the earth tremble at its core,
To the resounding roar of the cannon.

Crown, oh homeland, your brow with olive
The divine archangel of peace,
For in heaven your eternal destiny
Was written by the finger of God.
But if a foreign enemy should dare
To profane your land with his sole,
Think, oh beloved homeland, that heaven
Gave you a soldier in each son.

In bloody battles you saw them
For your love, their hearts beating,
Facing the cannonballs serenely,
And seeking death or glory.
If the memory of ancient feats
Inflames the minds of your sons,
The memories of triumph on your brow
Will return immortal to adorn.

Like the oak struck by lightning,
Crashing down to the deep torrent,
Discord, defeated and powerless,
Fell at the feet of the archangel.
No more shall the blood of your sons
Be spilled in fraternal strife;
May the steel in their hands find
Only those who insulted your sacred name.

The immortal warrior of Zempoala
Is defended by the terrible sword,
And his invincible arm upholds
Your sacred tricolor banner.
He shall be the leader of the happy Mexican
In peace and in war,
Because he knew how to surround his shining arms
In the fields of honor.

War, unceasing war to whoever
Attempts to stain the nation's honor,
War, war, let the national banners
Be soaked in waves of blood.
War, war, on the mountain, in the valley,
Let the cannons thunder horribly,
And let the resounding echoes
Ring out with the voices of unity and freedom.

Before, homeland, that your unarmed sons
Bow their necks under the yoke,
May your fields be watered with blood,
May their feet be stamped on blood.
And may your temples, palaces, and towers
Collapse with a dreadful crash,
And their ruins exist proclaiming:
Here was the homeland of a thousand heroes.

If the war trumpet calls us
To battle against the enemy host,
Follow the sacred banner of Iturbide,
Mexicans, valiantly follow.
And let the defeated banners serve
As carpets for the faithful horses;
Let the laurels of triumph shade
The brow of the brave leader.

Let the warrior return proudly to his homeland,
To sing of his victory,
Displaying the palms of glory
That he knew how to conquer in battle.
His bloody laurels will turn
Into garlands of myrtle and roses,
For the love of daughters and wives
Also knows how to reward the brave.

And he who falls at the fiery cannon's blast
On the homeland's altars,
Shall obtain as reward a tomb
Where the light of glory shines.
And, entwined with his bloody sword,
The beloved flag of Iguala,
Crowned with immortal laurel,
Will form a cross over his grave.

Homeland, homeland! Your sons swear to you
To breathe their last breath at your altars,
If the bugle, with its warlike tone,
Calls them to fight with valor.
For you the olive garlands!
A memory of glory for them!
A laurel of victory for you!
A tomb of honor for them!

Col. esb