The year was 1972 and wrote Francesco Guccini a song that, according to his intentions, telling the story of an anarchist railway man of the century before.
But artists, you know, sometimes ahead of their time and on rare occasions we showed real glimpses of the future.
Francis, if I wrote this song today, would probably have a strong temptation to dedicate it to our mutual friend
but, knowing his commitment and his ideas, as it probably refrain. We do not have similar qualms that we offer
ready to take his place in this thankless task, and there we propose a slightly rearranged but certainly more easily devote all'amichico concerned. "Who is it?" Ask you, in a totally legitimate, but we always that we are distinguished by a small bit of malice
not we tell you and leave you the pleasure of guessing by the .....
I do not know what a face he had, not even her name,
with that voice spoke, then sang with what voice,
how old he was seen then, what color his hair, but in the fantasy I
its image:
heroes are all young and beautiful,
heroes are all young and beautiful,
heroes are all young and beautiful ...
know instead the material time, which 'was his job:
swordmaster and railways,
the times when we begin the holy war of beggars
the train seemed too' it's a myth progress
launched on the continents,
launched on the continents,
launched on the continents ...
and the locomotive seemed strange
a monster that dominated the elf with his thoughts and his hand was left
roaring back distances that seemed endless,
looked like he was in a tremendous power,
the same power of dynamite,
the same power of dynamite,
the same power of dynamite ..
But 'other great strength then explained his wings,
words saying "the order are all the same"
and against the destruction the bomb exploded in the street
elven and lit the' torch of the air
bimbominkiamania, the
torch of bimbominkiamania,
the torch of bimbominkiamania ...
A train every day went for his region,
a luxury train, distant destination:
saw people revered, thought of those velvet, with gold,
thought the lean days of its people around, he thought a train full
of puggoni,
thought a train full of puggoni,
thought a train full of puggoni ...
I do not know what happened, why he made the decision, perhaps an anger
old generations unnamed
that screamed revenge, blinded the heart:
forgot pity, forgot his kindness, his
the bomb the steam engine,
the bomb his car steam
the bomb its the steam engine ...
It was the locomotive on the track, the car
button seemed a living thing,
looked like a young colt who just released the brake
biting muscles of the track with 'Steel
with blind force of lightning, with blind force of
flash,
with blind force of lightning ...
And one day like the others, but perhaps with more anger in the body
thought he had a way to make amends for some wrong.
went up the monster that, she tried to put away his fear and
before thinking about what he was doing,
the monster ate the plain,
the monster ate the plain,
the monster ate the plain ...
ran a small unsuspecting party and almost no hurry, no one imagined
to go to the Revenge, but
Station Praag news came in a flash:
"news of an emergency, act with urgency, a madman has launched
with a train, a crazy
was launched with a train, a crazy
was launched with a train ... " Meanwhile
runs, runs, runs the locomotive
and hisses steam and seems almost a living thing and it seems to say
farmers bend the whistle that spreads through the air:
"Brother, do not worry, I run in my duty!
Justice Triumphs of obscure!
Justice Triumphs of obscure!
Triumph of Justice obscure "
Meanwhile runs runs runs louder and
runs runs runs runs towards the others
death and nothing can now hold the 'immense destructive force,
expect only the crash and when he reaches the mantle of the great
comforter,
the great comforter, consoler of the great
... History tells us how the car finished the race
diverted along a line
with the dead ... 'His last cry of' animal and the machine erupted lapilli lava,
exploded against the sky, then the smoke spread the veil: the
gathered he was still breathing, he was still breathing
the gathered, the
gathered he was still breathing ...
But we still like to think
behind the engine while you run off the steam
and there comes a day yet the news
of a locomotive as a living thing, a bomb
Zerg against 'injustice,
Zerg a bomb against the 'injustice,
Zerg to bomb the' injustice!
0 comments:
Post a Comment