a hymn to liberty

This is an online edition of my Esperanto translation of the "Hymne à la Liberté," written by the French playwright and deputy Marie-Joseph Chénier and sung by the Convention at the Festival of Reason on 20 Brumaire II. This translation is likely inexpert, as I am still something of a learner in Esperanto and am very much a beginner in terms of French. Regardless, I had fun and I hope it will be of value to some people.

I strove to maintain at least some of the beauty and form of the text, instead of translating purely literally. For example, in the French original, each verse has three lines of 11-13 syllables and then one final line of 8, as well as an ABAB rhyme scheme. I have forsaken the rhyme, but have followed something resembling the syllable structure, with each verse having three lines of precisely 13 syllables and ending with one 8-syllable line.

My source text (which I have reproduced here, labeled ORIGINALO) is from the Archives parlementaires, and may be accessed separately here, on page 711. Below the French and the Esperanto versions, I have also included two English translations. The first, labeled BEIK, is from the French by the scholar Paul H. Beik, as found in his book, The French Revolution, on page 271. Its formatting has been adjusted slightly to fit in,but none of its content has been altered. The second is by me, translating fairly literally from my Esperanto translation.

Both my Esperanto translation and my English translation of my Esperanto translation are released under the CC BY-SA 4.0 license. This means, to summarize, that you are free to share and adapt them as you wish, so long as you credit me, mark if you made any changes, and, in the case of derivative or transformative works, that you release them under the same license.

ORIGINALO

TRADUKO

Descends, ô Liberté, fille de la Nature:
Le Peuple a reconquis son pouvoir immortel
Sur les pompeux débris de l'antique imposture
    Ses mains relèvent ton autel.

Descendu, Libereco, ido de Naturo
La Popol' reprenis sian senmortan povon
Super la pompan rubon de antikvan trompon
    Levas vian oferejon

Venez, vainqueurs des rois, l'Europe vous contemple;
Venez, sur les faux dieux étendez vos succès
Toi, sainte Liberté, viens habiter ce temple;
    Sois la déesse des Français.

Venu, reĝvenkantoj, vin rigardas Eŭropo
Venu, al la idoloj montru viajn venkojn
Sankta Libereco, loĝu en ĉi tiu templ’
    Vi estu nia diino

Ton aspect réjouit le mont le plus sauvage,
Au milieu des rochers enfante les moissons:
Embelli par tes mains, le plus affreux rivage
    Rit environné de glaçons.

Via aspekt’ delektas la monton sovaĝan
Meze de la ŝtonegoj fruktas la rikoltoj
Garnita per vi, la plej terura marbordo
    Ridas meze de glacio

Tu doubles les plaisirs, les vertus, le génie;
L'homme est toujours vainqueur sous tes saints étendards
Avant de te connaître il ignore la vie
    Il est créé par tes regards.

Vi duobligas plezuron, virton, genion
La hom’ ĉiam venkas sub via sankta signo
Antaŭ ol li konis vin, li ne konis vivon
    Viaj okuloj lin kreas

Au Peuple souverain tous les rois font la guerre;
Qu'à tes pieds, ô déesse, ils tombent désormais:
Bientôt sur le cercueil des tyrans de la terre
    Les Peuples vont jurer la paix.

Kontraŭ la Popolo ĉiuj reĝoj militas
Ĉe viaj piedoj, diin’, ili nun falu
Baldaŭe per la ĉerkoj de la mondtiranoj
    Popoloj ĵuros paciĝi

Guerriers libérateurs, race puissante et brave,
Armés d'un glaive humain, sanctifiez l'effroi;
Terrassé par vos coups, que le dernier esclave
    Suive au tombeau la dernier roi.

Batalantoj kaj liberigantoj kuraĝaj
Armitaj per glavo homa, sanktigu terur’
Venkita per viaj batoj, la fina sklavo
    Sekvu al tombo la finreĝ’

BEIK

TRANSLATION

Descend, O Liberty, daughter of Nature:
The People have recaptured their immortal power;
Over the pompous remains of age-old imposture
    Their hands raise thine altar.

Descend, Liberty, offspring of Nature
The People have reclaimed their undying power
Over the pompous rubble of ancient tricks
    They raise your altar

Come, vanquishers of kings, Europe gazes upon you;
Come, vanquish the false gods.
Thou, holy Liberty, come dwell in this temple;
    Be the goddess of the French.

Come, king-vanquishers, Europe looks upon you
Come, to the idols show your victories
Holy Liberty, live in this temple
    May you be our goddess

Thy countenance rejoices the most savage mountain,
Amid the rocks harvests grow:
Embellished by thy hands, the harshest coast,
    Embedded in ice, smiles.

Your face delights the wild mountain
Between the boulders the harvests yield
Decorated by you, the most terrifying shore
    Laughs amidst the ice

Thou doublest pleasures, virtues, genius;
Under thy holy standards, man is always victorious;
Before knowing thee he does not know life;
    He is created by thy glance.

You double pleasure, virtue, genius
Man always wins under your sacred sign
Before he knew you he did not know life
    Your gaze creates him

All kings make war on the sovereign People;
Let them henceforth fall at thy feet, O goddess;
Soon on the coffins of the world's tyrants
    The world's peoples will swear peace.

Against the people all kings wage war
At your feet, goddess, let them now fall
Soon upon the coffins of the world-tyrants
    Peoples will swear to be peaceful

Warrior liberators, powerful, brave race,
Armed with a human sword, sanctify terror;
Brought down by your blows, may the last slave
    Follow the last king to the grave.

Courageous warriors and liberators
Armed with a human blade, make terror holy
Defeated by your blows, let the last slave
    Follow the last king to the tomb