Революция - Марш Анархистов - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

March anarchists

Spot the same song for thunder strikes,

Under the explosions and bullets, under the flame of fires,

Under the banner of black giant struggle,

Under the sounds of a prize tube!

Destroy, brothers, palaces and idols,

Knock down the shackles, breaking down porphyres;

Pretty submissive and slave love -

We are grown in the blood of the nation!

Woke up, the folk will rise

On the orders of the commune, at the call of Ravasol,

On shouts about the revenge of the dead people

Under the bourgeois dies, in the loop of the executioner.

There are a lot of them, without an account, the need of broken,

Killed in the Ostrog, on the slash of the dead,

There are many of them, about the truth that served you

And fallen in the heroic, unequal struggle:

Their moans are trees over the sky of Russia,

Their moans, appeals, like the ropot of the elements,

Sound over Paris, Cayena Deaf

And we are called on the valiant fight.

Spot the same song for thunder strikes,

Under the explosions and bullets, under the flame of fires,

Under the banner of black giant struggle,

Under the sounds of a prize tube!

"Petrel" (Paris), 1908, №10-11, p. 23

Probably, the basis of its translated from French: the French realities of the 1870s - early 1890s are mentioned: Paris commune (1871), the terrorist attacks of Anarchist Ravasol 1892 (executioned July 11, 1892). The song in different versions was popular in anarchic parts during the civil war. The first lines are quoted in the proclamation of anarchists Underground "Medle Agenia" (Moscow, 1919):

The brothers anarchists for dynamite! Bombs in hand! Without a mercy, we will break the executioners of the people, the executioners of the revolution! Brothers, "We sing a song for thunder strikes, under explosions and bullets, under the flame of fires; Under the banner of the black giant struggle, we are grown the people of the people in the blood, "executioners and jailers. Our black banner beats bad weather. Many brave fell in the fight. So hurry, our brothers are tired. Friendly forward to the struggle for equality, for the will.

(See Underground Anarchists Organization Documents).

The phonogram in modern arrangement - see here.

Makhnov options

Anthem Makhnovtsev

Well, brothers, under thunder strikes,

Under the explosions and bullets, under the flame of fires,

Under the banner of black giant struggle,

Under the sounds of "Nabat" of a draft tube ...

There are a lot of them, without the need of clogged,

Tortured in prisons, on the feet of the dead,

There are many of them, about the truth that served you

And fallen in the heroic unequal struggle ...

Golovanov V. Ya. Tachacani from the south. - M.: Publishing House "Mart", 1997, p. 229-230.

According to the author of the book about the Makhnovsky movement "Tacanka from the south" of Vasily Golovanova, the full lyrics was published in the Makhnovtsev's "way to freedom" newspaper, 1919, Alexandrovsk.

Vladimir Chop in the book "Marusya Nikiforova" (written between 1996 and 2008), mention that the detachments of Marusi Nikiforova - who at different times were fought both as part of the Makhnovsky army, and and autonomously - also considered their hymn "march anarchists", leads such Option:

March anarchists

Well, the same song forces and blows,

Under the explosions of shells, under the flame of fires,

Under the banner of black giant struggle,

Under the sounds of a prize tube!

There are a lot of them without an account of the fateful forgotten

Tortured in prisons, on the feet of the dead,

There are many of them, oh, however, who served you

And the fallen in the heroic, unequal struggle.

Take rifles and browning boldly,

Let's go beat the bourgeois for the right thing!

Pretty shameful and slave love,

We will migrate the people of the people in the blood!

Rogovsky

March anarchists

Well, a song for thunders of unrest

Under bullets and explosions, under the flame of boors,

Under the banner of black giant struggle,

Under the sounds of Nabat, - Cattle Pipe.

Take the palaces and destroy idols

Cut the shackles, tear porphyres:

Pretty submissive and slave love!

We are the mountain of the people of the Flood in the blood.

Rebelled, folk will woke up

On the orders of the commune, on the call of Rovashol,

On screams about the revenge of the dead people

Under the blowing bourgeois, under the rank of chains.

There are many of them - oh, though! - the need of scored,

There are many of them in prisons, on the pla