[Goffredo Mameli, “Il Canto degli Italiani”, 1847.]
Brothers of Italy,
Italy has awoken,
with Scipio’s helmet
binding her head.
Where is Victory?
Let her bow down,
for God has made her
Rome’s slave.
Let us join in a cohort,
we are ready to die.
We are ready to die,
Italy has called.
Let us join in a cohort,
we are ready to die.
We are ready to die,
Italy has called!
Let us join in cohort,
we are ready to die.
We are ready to die,
Italy has called.
Let us join in cohort,
we are ready to die.
We are ready to die,
Italy has called! Yes!
For centuries we were
downtrodden, derided,
because we are not one people,
because we are divided.
Let one flag, one hope
gather us all.
The hour has struck
for us to unite.
Let us unite and love one another,
for union and love
reveal to the people
the ways of the Lord.
Let us swear to set free
our native soil:
united under God,
who can defeat us?
From the Alps to Sicily,
Legnano is everywhere;
Every man has the heart
and hand of Ferruccio.
The children of Italy
are all called Balilla;
Every trumpet blast
sounds the Vespers.
Mercenary swords,
they're feeble reeds.
The Eagle of Austria
has already lost its plumes.
It drank the blood of Italy
and Polish blood,
along with the Cossack,
but it burned her heart.
