We are the anemic crew
of an infamous prison
on which death is raging
reaps for slow hunger.
Never clear horizons
our dawn opens,
and on the squalid deck
the audience screams every hour.
Our d? they fly away
between fetid hulls,
we are thin, emaciated, slaves
tight in iron chains.
The moon rises on the sea,
the stars rotate in the sky,
br/>but on our lights
lying? a funereal veil.
Hordes of weary slaves
bent to moan on the oar
let's break these chains
or bent over rowing we will die!
What is this? moaning slaves
this rowing?
Better to die among the waves
on the whitening of the sea.
Remiam until? the ship
crashes on the breakers,
high the red and black
among the hissing of the winds!
And be a merciful cultivator
the wave foamy and fresh,
but does a d arise? on the martyrs
the sun of anarchy.
On slaves to arms to arms!
The wave gurgles and rises,
thunder, flashes and lightning
on the galleon fatal.
On slaves to arms to arms!
Let's fight with a strong arm!
Let's swear, let's swear justice!
O freedom? O death!
Let us swear, let us swear justice!
O freedom? oh death!