Hear, mortals, the sacred cry:
"Freedom, freedom, freedom"
Hear the sound of broken chains,
see noble equality enthroned.
On the face of the earth rises
A glorious new nation.
Her head is crowned with laurels,
And a Lion lies defeated at her feet.
May the laurels be eternal,
that we knew how to win.
Let us live crowned with glory,
or swear to die gloriously.

The faces of the new champions
seem animated by Mars himself
Greatness nestles in their breasts:
as they march everything trembles.
The tombs of the dead Inca are shaken up,
and in their bones the ardour revives
which renews their children
of the Fatherland the ancient splendour.
May the laurels be eternal etc.
But hills and walls are heard
to echo with awful clamour:
the whole country is shaken by cries
of revenge, of war, and fury.
On fierce tyrants envy
spat its pestilential bile;
their bloody standard they raise
provoking the most cruel fighting.
May the laurels be eternal etc.
Do you not see them on Mexico and Quito
throwing themselves with tenacious cruelty?
And how weep, soaked in blood,
Potosí, Cochabamba and La Paz?
Do you not see them over sad Caracas
spread mourning, and tears, and death?
Do you not see them devouring as wild beasts
all peoples who they defeat?
May the laurels be eternal etc.
It dares face you, Argentines,
the pride of the vile invader.
Your lands it tramples, boasting
of many glories as victor.
But the brave, who united swore
their happy freedom to sustain,
these blood-thirsty tigers
they will confront with strong chests.
May the laurels be eternal etc.
The valiant Argentine to arms
runs burning with zest and valour,
the bugle of war, as thunder,
in the fields of the South resounded.
Buenos Aires puts itself in the lead of
the people of the illustrious Union,
and with strong arms they tear to pieces
the arrogant Iberian lion.
May the laurels be eternal etc.
San José, San Lorenzo, Suipacha,
both Piedras, Salta and Tucumán,
La Colonia and even the walls
of the tyrant on the Eastern bank†.
They are eternal signboards that say:
"Here Argentine hands triumphed,
here the fierce oppressor of the Fatherland
his proud neck bent".
May the laurels be eternal etc.
Victory enveloped the Argentine warrior
with its shining wings,
and stunned at this sight the tyrant
with infamy took to flight.
His flags, his arms surrendered
as trophies to freedom,
and on wings of glory the people raise
a throne worthy of its great majesty.
May the laurels be eternal etc.
From pole to pole resounds
the sonorous bugle of fame,
and showing the name of America
it repeats "Mortals, hear!:
Their noble throne have now opened
the united provinces of the South."
And the free people of the world reply:
"To the great Argentine people, hail!"
May the laurels be eternal etc.