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- We are the anemic crew
- of an infamous galley
- on which quick death
- reaps with slow hunger.
- Never clear horizons
- unclenchs our dawn
- and over the squalid deck
- the guide screams every time.
- Our days fly
- over fetid keels
- we're thin, pallid, slaves
- tied with iron chains.
- The moon rises above the see
- revolve the stars in the sky
- but over our lights
- a funeral veil is lied
- Crowds of slaves parched with thirst
- painfully stooping on the oar
- Let us break these chains
- or bent over the oar we'll die!
- Suffering slaves
- what is this rowing about?
- Better to die beneath the waves
- over the gleaming white sea.
- We will row until the ship
- will crash over the reefs.
- Keep the black and red flags flying
- between the hissing of the winds!
- And be pitiful bed
- the scummy and wicked wave
- but still will rise one day over the martyrs
- the sun of Anarchy.
- Come now slaves to arms, to arms!
- Fight with a strong arm!
- We swear, we swear justice.
- Freedom or death!
- We swear, we swear justice.
- Freedom or death!
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