The Songs of the Folgore Parachutists

Mama don't cry, there's the advance,
your son is strong, up high!
Dry your tears, my fiancée,
for in the assault one wins or dies.

The Ardito is beautiful the Ardito is strong,
loves women and drinks good wine,
by its flames, the colour of death,
trembles the enemy when it is near!

Next Ardito, the black flames,
are as a symbol of your hosts,
overruns the mountains, devours the plain,
stabs in the teeth and hand grenades.

Black flames vanguard of death,
we are a banner of struggle and honour,
we are the pride turned into a cohort,
to defend Italy's honour!

Next Ardito, the black flames,
are as a symbol of your hosts,
overruns the mountains, devours the plain,
stabs in the teeth and hand grenades.

How many times through thick darkness
in the night we drew our knives,
between trenches and disrupted defences
from the bloody fray fatal!

Next Ardito, the black flames,
are as a symbol of your hosts,
overruns the mountains, devours the plain,
stabs in the teeth and hand grenades.

Mama don't cry, if there's an advance
your son is strong, fearless
wipes away the girlfriend's tears,
that in the assault you win or die!

Next Ardito, the black flames,
are as a symbol of your hosts,
overruns the mountains, devours the plain,
stabs in the teeth and hand grenades.

A star is watching us, fate;
And three flames of love cling to us,
three words of faith and death:
the stab, the bomb and the cor.

Next Ardito, the black flames,
are as a symbol of your hosts,
overruns the mountains, devours the plain,
stabs in the teeth and hand grenades.

Wetting his beret in a pool of blood
became the symbol of all of us paras
the sacrifice of our fallen
It was always a struggle against cowardice and dishonour,
the wind of death, the cold terror
when it challenges us is then shining in our hearts
our courage, our valour
we are paras fighting for civilisation.

At the appearance of your flower in flight
the sky darkens and we begin to struggle
we are volunteers we are the chosen troops
we are devoted to the knowledge of dying.

Then we know that we are going to die
amid indifference and without a cry for us
we know no fear or dread,
But we will die with anger in our hearts for honour.

The wind of death, the cold terror
when it shines in our hearts
our courage our valour
we are paras fighting for civilisation.

We sing a song in our hearts, of the paratrooper warrior
the blossoming spirit urges us to fight.
For you our beloved Italy,
vermilion blood we will spill,
The time is near when we will fight barbarism.

Red beret vanguard of glory,
to death we laugh like this:ha ha!
Showing we want to the world
that in the ruins we shall stand!

Death no longer fears, he sleeps with the parà;
With the sun shining in his heart, he will defend his honour.

Paraca our comrade,in the sky you went to die,
you had a smile on your face, forever you will live with us.

Red beret vanguard of glory,
to death we laugh like this:ha ha!
Showing we want to the world
that in the ruins we shall stand!

In the face of the world we shout: Honour and Loyalty.
And we are proud to be here, pure and hard to die.

We are volunteer parachutists
we come from every region,
fighting from Oslo to Corfu,
we will make Europe national!

Composed by Major to music by Maestro Pettinato in 1941. The title is taken from a verse of 'Canzone del Quarnaro' by D'annunzio.

How much more bitter in war
the battle rages on
the louder it crackles
on the front the machine gun;
if the knave marks the pass,
if they stop the tank drivers,
they send for us: who?
We, parachutists!

We are a hundred, a hundred and one,
all strong, bold and healthy,
a little crazy, a little poet,
but the best of Italians.

We come from afar
through arcane and beautiful ways
flying through the night,
the stars guide us.
In the colourful dawn
of faint and sad lights,
we descend from the sky: who?
We, parachutists!

Some people like to make love,
who like to make money,
we like to wage war
with death at paro paro.

We come from afar
like lightning from above
sweeping away all defences,
in the thrill of the assault;
we open the way for the infantryman,
the pass to the tankers,
wings to victory: who?
We, parachutists!

We are a hundred, a hundred and one,
all strong, bold and healthy,
a little crazy, a little poet,
but the best of Italians

To those who go down fighting
God grants beautiful
to fly lightly
between a cloud and a star.

In that corner of the sky
reserved for all of us,
where they live forever
Saints, Martyrs and Heroes.

Nobody's children
among the rocks we march
despises us each
because we are torn
but if there is one
who can command and dominate us
sons of nobodies
even on an empty stomach
saprem marchar.

We were born who knows where who knows when
bred in pure charity
without father, without mother, without deception
we live like birds in the wild.

Nobody's children,
among the rocks we live
he despises each of us,
because we are torn
but if there is one
who can command and dominate us
sons of nobodies
even on an empty stomach
saprem marciar
Nobody's children
even on an empty stomach
saprem marciar

Our sister aviation
After us, it is the most beautiful,
and turns the propeller roars the motor
we are paratroopers, it's open or die.

The parachute is pure silk
But if it doesn't open, it's a rip-off,
and turns the propeller roars the motor
we are paratroopers, it's win or die.

The parachute is fine silk
but if it doesn't open, it's a ruin,
and turns the propeller roars the motor
we are paratroopers, it's open or die.

If you don't know how to capsize
a plaster cast you can get
and turns the propeller roars the motor,
we are paratroopers, it's win or die.

Hearts of steel on the alert
the sky is a platform,
soon in the offer
we will swoop down,
daggers and hand grenades,
viaticum of death,
and the anxiety of fate
we shall hear no more!
Hook the restraining rope,
opens the trapdoor into the wind,
you take the form of an angel
and away to your new destination!

Like lightning from heaven!
sings the motto of glory.
Like a storm cloud!
we precede victory.
A siren scream: out... out!
And down into infinity
on the fiercest enemy
to destroy or die.
To destroy or die.

The enemy eye scrutinises:
are clouds that go,
but then that the wind shifts
you see them already here.
And the angels of war,
dagger in the teeth,
in one against twenty
they fight like this!
Released every body from constraints,
enclosed in a firm square,
enemy lead crumbles:
none of us will give in!

Like lightning from heaven!
sings the motto of glory.
Like a storm cloud!
we precede victory.
A siren scream: out... out!
And down into infinity
on the fiercest enemy
to destroy or die.
To destroy or die.

A song passes through the skies,
is a victory song,
the children of glory
up they go again.
And ready for battle,
with the heart always on the alert,
will repeat the offer
with renewed ardour!
Hook the restraining rope,
opens the trapdoor into the wind,
you take the form of an angel
and away to your new destination.

I died in Katanga,
I came from Lucera,
I was only twenty years old
and the black shirt.

People say of me
that I am a mercenary
only for booty
only for money.

But now that I am lying down
look in my sack,
you will find there a machine gun
and an ounce of tobacco.

In vain will you seek
money in the haversack,
I spent it all
along with the whores.

I loved a girl
Congolese
but I lost it at dice
with Jimmi the Irishman.

If I had stayed at home
there in my Lucera
I would have a fat wife,
children and bacon.

I would have the fat wife
the instalments, the six hundred,
mutual, television
waistcoat, doublet.

Instead I went
around the world
now I'm cracking up
down here in the lower Congo.

My skin burns
in this dunghill,
but the UN doesn't care
because I am mercenary.

The fires are out
now night falls,
goodbye green hills,
goodbye sweet hookers.

Goodbye sweet little girls
with flowers in her hair,
girls without a name
left in brothels.

With our red berets
I made a flag,
take it to friends
aging in Lucera.

Long live my death
long live youth
Long live my death
long live youth.

Oh 5th Battalion the most beautiful one is you.
Of all the Brigade the best youth.

Someone wrinkles their nose
would like to blame,
but we do not pay attention
you walk!

And with our Commander in the lead
we will follow along his path.
If the machine gun has lightning fire
we are all ready to win or die!

We are not afraid of death...NO!
Getting engaged and making love
if it grips us and takes us to the cemetery
you light a candle and never mention it again.

We want to die together crucified
to redeem all cowardice
if we had one minute of life left
we will live it for an eternity.

First official song of the Parachutists. Sung at the Royal Parachute School in Tarquinia from 1940.

We are new flames of a new ardour
Hardened is the arm and harder is the heart
we are ready to dare we are ready to obey
how we are ready to win or die.

With our chest and our cervel
Let us unite earth and sky together
White butterflies descend in platoons
all joined to the roar of the cannon.

Parachutist you
coming down from up there
above hell
you conquer what you want
alongside heroes
that are eternal.

When you come down from heaven
wrapped in your vel
victory already smiles on you
but if the machine gun cuts you off
from the battle
you will return up there
but if the machine gun cuts you off
from the battle
you will return up there.

If you believe in destiny
if you believe in doman
your heart cannot hesitate
come with us to jump
on the track rolls the 'G'
to the door we go.

We march
who cares about tomorrow
your life you shall seek
so don't hesitate
come with us paras.

To be part of an elite
to be part of the best
your skin will risk
you will be proud to be here
the adventure of your vol
your thirst will be quenched.

We march
who cares about tomorrow
your life you shall seek
so don't hesitate
come with us paras.

For people without a name
for rogue without honour
an inferno will come
we paras will fight
with forehead high in the sun
we rise victorious.

On the mountains on the seas
on the streets and in the sky
let's throw up the ideal challenge.
Long will be the path
but with hope and with ardour
we throw our hearts out
in the battle still.

The rain soaks us
There burns high the sun.
Winter frost
It bites our hearts bitterly.
But firm in the peril
Vitam pro patria exponimus
And our uniform is an insignia of valour.

In bitter endeavours
We temper our strength.
Among the deadly risks
Our path we follow.
In the face of the vile world
The challenge of valour shines
Avanti o Paraca
Forward, forward again.

You remember the night of the kisses,
you gave me by holding me to your breast;
you told me you are beautiful, I like you,
you, tonight you are made for me.

You told me you were coming back at Easter,
but fate would not have it that way,
nice paraca you were 20 years old
up there in the sky you went to die.

Like an angel with broken wings,
you fell on the war field
if with your blood you bathed the earth
to Italy you give your heart.

Above the beret we wear,
there is a frieze that reigns supreme;
we wear it with faith and pride
Long live Italy and its beautiful tricolour.

Beautiful children making love
do not weep do not grieve
there is no greater sorrow in the world
than to see a paraca die.

There are those who weep who throw a flower
who in silence continue to suffer
there is no greater sorrow in the world
than to see a paraca die.

Dear mothers waiting at home
do not cry for your children
up there in the sky they are never alone
the whole of Italy is around him.

Wings, dagger and white cap
is our coat of arms, the most beautiful of all...
it guides us and spurs us on to the fight
Long live Italy and the Arditi del Ciel!

O' parachutist the most beautiful is you

of the entire republic the best youth

someone wrinkles their nose, would like to blame

but we pay no attention and walk on

and with our commander in the lead

we will follow him wherever he walks

if the machine gun has lightning fire

we are always ready to win or die.

We are not afraid of death

get engaged and make love to each other

if it then leads us to the cemetery

a candle is lit and it is no longer spoken of.

But I won't care

of death and love

but I won't give a damn

I have 20 years in my heart.

When from the clouds I must hurl myself

with a parachute over his shoulder