Revision as of 17:23, 3 January 2008

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См. статью Quella notte davanti alla Bussola.

Текст

В 1999 году Рикардо Вентури (Riccardo Venturi) написал английский вариант песни. That night in front of the "Bussola" In the cold New Year’s eve, That new year’s night We shan’t never forget.

The Gentlemen they arrived With their luxury motor cars, Casting scornful looks At students and workers.

The ladies in evening dress With their shoulders cover’d by furs, The Powerful with their bow-ties And all their starchy faces.

They were the same Gentlemen Who exploit us all the year long, Those who make us die In the factories nearby

They came to rejoice and drink After a whole year of exploitation, Hoping that the year to come Will bring them still more profit

The Comrades, they know well All of them and cannot stop, And they throw rotten tomatoes, And they all spit at their faces

But someone’s blown in a trumpet To defend those exploiters, The Police are rushing quickly And is having a free-for-all

How beautiful the cops are When they beat up people in handcuffs, The young Comrades in high school age Fourteen to seventeen years old

And they don’t stop beating If the lieutenant don’t tell them to stop, They’re the most realistic image Of our established order

And we already can see the Police Drawing up in battle array To begin the man-hunt With patrol and armoured cars

We can’t flee away from there And leave our Comrades behind, We’ve been caught into a trap And cannot reach our cars

We decide to hold out And we build up barricades That’s a better way to resist The subsequent attacks

From the first barricade To the area held by the Police There’s a dark no man’s land Of about thirty yards

When the Police begins to advance A cop fires a shot in the air, The Comrades they throw stones Trying to stop the Police

The Police stops for a moment, Then they retake their advance, Now it isn’t one only, Now a lot of them is shooting

From the first barricade We can see well the guns, But from the other one, the Comrades Think they are only petards

We draw back all together To the other barricade, And the cops they retreat, The thing’s taking a bad turn

One hour more of attacks We with our stones and they with their guns, And we think they’re firing blank shots Even from an armoured car

But, suddenly, I see a Comrade Fall to the ground to my right, He falls on his knees with a hole And his trousers stained with blood

I turn and shout: "They’re shooting!" And I run backwards for a while, Two Comrades carry on their shoulders The Comrade wounded in one leg

Running fast on the street’s pavement And pursued by the Police, I can see Ceccanti mortally wounded Being carried on the sidewalk

We all do our best to help him, But it’s difficult to find rescue While we’re pursued by the cops, They give us no respite

Luckily, we find a runabout And we take Ceccanti away, There’s nothing more we can do But running away in haste

Maybe tonight at the "Bussola" The masters have taken offence, They who offend us and kill us For the remaining twelve months

We’d better offending them more often And never giving them any respite, Every time these Gentlemen Happen to be within our range

And now I think we should make Some remarks on the situation, On the different ugly faces The Masters show us nowadays

They have money to buy us, They give work to exploit us, They have their Police to kill us And the TV to cheat us

The only good thing we can do Is revolting, refusing their tricks, Refusing their false freedom, That’s all shit for the people

The only good thing we can do Is revolting, refusing their tricks, Refusing their false freedom That’s all shit for the people.