Il faut que ça se sache quand on les aura en face
pour la face-à-face. Pour la lutte des classes

Here is my English translation, which can be sung to the same tune:

My friend, have you sighted the dark flight of the crows over our plains?
My friend, do you hear the silent cries of our country in chains?

Oh, friends, do you hear, workers, farmers, in your ears alarm bells ringing?
Tonight the enemy will feel the heat of tears in our blood singing!

Oh comrades, come back from the hills from the mines where you're hiding.
Grenades from the haystacks. Use your hunting rifles for fighting.

Oh Hey you killers, with your gun, with your knife, kill tonight, now!
Oh Hey, saboteurs, guard your pack with your life, dynamite, now!

We are the ones who break the jail bars in two for our brothers.
Hunger drives, hate pursues, misery binds us to one another.

There are countries where in their beds without a care, some lie dreaming.
But we, do you see, we march on, kill quickly, we die screaming.

Here each of us knows what she wants, what she does, face to face.
My friend, if you fall, from the shadows on the wall, I'll take your place.

Tomorrow, black blood will dry out in the sun on the streets, now.
But sing, companions, in the night liberty calls us, sweet, now.

My friend, have you sighted the dark flight of the crows over our plains?
My friend, do you hear the silent cries of our countries in chains?