This is the translation of the lyrics of a song called "Mémoires des luttes" (Memoirs of struggles) from the French rap band La K-bine. It's like an interesting trip thru history remembering movements and heroes from different times and countries. The member who brought it to us thought it would be nice if more people could understand it and know about the different events mentioned, so Warrior Brother Sourakhata and I have translated it to english. May you like it

You can also hear the song:
Skalpel 'Mémoires des luttes'



Mémoires des luttes

I fought alongside el CHÉ in the Sierra Maestra
I shed tears when he was killed, did the same for ZAPATA
My veins get cutted under the weight of 500 years of oppression
I travelled the popular American history alongside women in USA
I join JACKSON's rebellion and saw death in front of my eyes
I knew the Black Panther Party story next to NEWTON and screamed “death to the pigs”
I hated mornings for more than 20 years like JEAN MARC ROUILLAN
Between hunger strike and white torture, without regret nor resignation
I cried, screamed, hoped, struggled during war in Spain
I took refuge with the Basques in Bretagne villages
I carried the CNT’s flag during the Iron Column
I escaped from Cayenne's hard labour with shackles on my feet
I faced Big Brother in 1984
Fought in the POUM militias with ORWELL
In the filth of the trenches facing the attacks
I built barricades during Paris Commune
Back against the wall, like the federates, head high in front of the rifles
I shouted “¡Ya basta!” on January 1st 1994
I swallowed 6 years of jail with my father and the Tupamaros
I seized the embassy of Japan with the MRTA
I raised the kalashnikov and the fist in honor of NESTOR CERPA
I met BAADER, the RAF, the Red Squads and the CCC
I bawled “Long live Palestine!” with the FPLP militants
I saw CARLO GIULIANI falling under the capital police's bullets
I concentrated so much rage in my fucking veins
Ready to explode like a Black Block in Seattle or Geneve
I travelled Death Row alongside LEONARD PELTIER and MUMIA
I fought for the independence of the Sahara and died in Kenitra jails
I had my hands cut like VICTOR JARA
And my guitar became a kalashnikov against the paramilitary
In November of 2005 I rebelled in the slums of France
Backed by an infuriated youth, despised since childhood
I set fire to my cell in this fucking retention center
I supported the struggle of the "undocumented" and I marched against the expulsions
I kept my head high under the catcalls of the French workers
I didn’t leave place for consternation
The son of foreign proletarian, heir of the immigration struggles
I rubbed shoulders with poverty in Nanterre’s shantytown
I drowned in the Seine river on October 17th 1961
With more than a hundred of my brothers
I saw my mother crying
And shedding her tears over my little brother’s body
A new victim of police blunder

Skalpel