شعر
بالانجليزي عن الوطن
شعر بالانجليزي عن الوطن
Songs,
that's all his life!
As well as a
vaporous fog,
The breath
of desire
Slid on his
generous heart
Always his
dearest hope
Dream of the
happiness of France;
He always
respected the laws
...
But hatreds
are relentless,
And on the
bench of the villainous villains
Virtue sits
sometimes.
What did he
do ? why ban it?
Ah! it's
still for songs:
Courage!
smother the satire,
Instead of
listening to his lessons.
When a
turbulent sect,
Raising his
threatening head,
Brave the
sovereign decrees,
You remain
silent, without revenge,
And you do
not use the power
What to
fight refrains
...
O Béranger!
darling muse!
You whose
voice always unites
The memory
of the motherland
In memory of
your loves,
Tender
friend, sublime poet,
Jealous
power that oppresses you
Your noble
songs will be victorious;
Because they
speak of our glory,
And, like a
story of victory,
They made
our hearts throb.
A day will
come, France moved
Bring
justice to your virtues;
We will see
your statue emerge
...
But then you
will not be anymore!
Because a
poet, on earth
Must fight
against misery
And odious
detractors,
Until the
day when, breaking his chains,
Law comes to
end his sentences
And place
him in the ranks of the gods.
But we that
charmed his delirium
When he sang
freedom,
Let's go,
children of the lyre,
Let's get
ahead of posterity.
To celebrate
our poet,
To put
flowers on his head,
Do not wait
until he has lived
...
If in the
struggle that engages
His fate
must be slavery,
Let's all
repeat: Glory to the vanquished!
