| Infine, una versione inglese sempre in versi e cantabile, ma... |
NEVER SAY | NEVER SAY |
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Never say the final journey is at hand | Never say this is the final road for you, |
Never say we will not meet the Promised Land, | Though leaden skies may cover over days of blue. |
The longed-for hour shall come, oh never fear! | As the hour that we longed for is so near, |
Our tread drums forth the tidings - we are here! | Our step beats out the message: we are here! |
The longed-for hour shall come, oh never fear! | As the hour that we longed for is so near, |
Our tread drums forth the tidings - we are here! | Our step beats out the message: we are here! |
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From land of palm-tree to the far-off land of snow, | From lands so green with palms to lands all white with snow. |
We shall be coming with our torment and our woe. | We shall be coming with our anguish and our woe, |
And everywhere our blood has sunk into the earth, | And where a spurt of our blood fell on the earth, |
Shall our bravery, our vigor blossom forth! | There our courage and our spirit have rebirth! |
And everywhere our blood has sunk into the earth, | And where a spurt of our blood fell on the earth, |
Shall our bravery, our vigor blossom forth! | There our courage and our spirit have rebirth! |
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We’ll have the morning sun to set our day aglow, | The early morning sun will brighten our day, |
And all our yesterdays shall vanish with the foe, | And yesterday with our foe will fade away, |
And if the time is long before the sun appears, | But if the sun delays and in the east remains – |
Then let this song go like a signal through the years. | This song as motto generations must remain. |
And if the time is long before the sun appears, | But if the sun delays and in the east remains – |
Then let this song go like a signal through the years. | This song as motto generations must remain. |
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This song was written with our blood and not with lead; | This song was written with our blood and not with lead, |
It’s not a song that birds sing overhead, | It's not a little tune that birds sing overhead, |
It was a people, among toppling barricades, | This song a people sang amid collapsing walls, |
That sang this song of ours with pistols and grenades. | With pistols in hand they heeded to the call. |
It was a people, among toppling barricades, | But if the sun delays and in the east remains – |
That sang this song of ours with pistols and grenades. | This song as motto generations must remain. |
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So never say that there is only death for you. | Therefore never say the road now ends for you, |
Leaden skies may be concealing days of blue - | Though leaden skies may cover over days of blue. |
Because the hour we have hungered for is near; | As the hour that we longed for is so near, |
Beneath our tread the earth shall tremble: We are here! | Our step beats out the message: we are here! |
Because the hour we have hungered for is near; | As the hour that we longed for is so near, |
Beneath our tread the earth shall tremble: We are here! | Our step beats out the message: we are here! |