First Published: Workers Viewpoint, Vol. 4, No. 18, November 5, 1979.
Transcription, Editing and Markup: Paul Saba
Copyright: This work is in the Public Domain under the Creative Commons Common Deed. You can freely copy, distribute and display this work; as well as make derivative and commercial works. Please credit the Encyclopedia of Anti-Revisionism On-Line as your source, include the url to this work, and note any of the transcribers, editors & proofreaders above.
(Dedicated to the workers and oppressed people who died in order to bring about the emancipation of mankind.)
And capital comes dripping
from head to foot,
from every pore,
dripping with blood and dirt...
And 400 years later it stands ugly and bloated
bloated with the lives of millions
of workers
workers whose bones were crushed
in its greedy jaws
workers who were spit out
like so much refuse
after everything good
was sucked out of them
We remember
The peasants of England
brutally uprooted from their land
forced into factories dark and crowded
We remember
The faces of children
Their sad eyes made grotesque
by faces blackened in the mines
their childhoods stunted and deformed
We remember
workers lying in trenches
with their bellies blown apart
their blood flowing into the mud
of some foreign land.
We remember
minutes and hours and days
that drip down bent backs
like bitter sweat
It is that sweat and that blood
which lubricates
the locomotive of history
And we have not forgotten this history
Marx did not forget
Lenin did not forget
Chairman Mao did not forget
We have not forgotten
because we have studied
and we have analyzed
and we have summed-up
we have fought
we have killed
we have hated.
Yes
We have hated,
because we must hate them
we must hate the bourgeoisie
with a hatred so clean and pure
that it steadies our trigger fingers
sharpens our eyes
makes our tongues into knives
that pierce their shrivelled hearts
makes our existence
the instrument of their deaths
you see, the monopoly capitalists
do not have a monopoly
on hatred
we know that they do not have
a monopoly on the dealing of death.
With each class wound
and each class grave our hatred grows
and with each class struggle
our courage grows
and our boldness grows
and our love grows
our love for the proletariat of this land
our love for the toilers of this world
this last and greatest class
in the history of man
the class that will wash away
the bourgeoisie under a raging tide
of revolution.
The class rises, rumbling and invincible
groping in the wind, lashing out, lost
but searching, it rises, its motion
inexorable, its power undefeatable,
And we rise
The party rises to lead the class to victory
our eyes clear, our spirits determined,
a book in one hand, a rifle in the other
the road wide before us, the light of
Marxism-Leninism-Mao Tsetung Thought,
a torch to guide us.
And we know that though
we fight and suffer and die
it will no longer be in vain
for each moment of struggle
is added to billions and trillions
of moments in the life of man
each skirmish we win over one more fighter
each battle we train ourselves
in the science of the class
we learn to lead by daring to lead
so that each moment and each skirmish
and each battle accumulates
until we are at the dawn of communism
a dawn brighter and more powerful
than the sun.
Comrades!
our day is here, the glorious day is here
and we must cherish this day
in our hearts
For, finally, we have our party
finally, the dictatorship of our class
is within our grasp,
and soon workers and oppressed
will march along the road of socialism
and we will lift our voices and say
Come with us, class brother!
Come with us, class sister!
We will sing a communist song
of victory,
for we have a world to win!