Fischia il vento

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"Fischia il vento"
("The wind whistles")
Music by Matvei Blanter
Lyrics by Felice Cascione
Written September 1943
Recorded by Milva (1965)
Music of Italy
Genres: Classical (Opera) - Pop - Rock (Hardcore - New Wave - Progressive rock) - Disco - House - Dance - Folk - Hip hop - Jazz
History and Timeline
Awards Italian Music Awards
Charts Federation of the Italian Music Industry
Festivals Sanremo Music Festival - Umbria Jazz Festival - Ravello Festival - Festival dei Due Mondi - Festivalbar
Media Music media in Italy
National anthem Il Canto degli Italiani
Regional scenes
Aosta Valley - Abruzzo - Basilicata - Calabria - Campania - Emilia-Romagna - Florence - Friuli-Venezia Giulia - Genoa - Latium - Liguria - Lombardy - Marche - Milan - Molise - Naples - Piedmont - Puglia - Rome - Sardinia - Sicily - Trentino-Alto Adige/Südtirol - Tuscany - Umbria - Veneto - Venice
Related topics
Opera houses - Music conservatories - Terminology

Fischia il vento is an Italian popular song whose text was written in September 1943, at the inception of the resistenza. The lyricist was Felice Cascione (2 May 1918 - 27 January 1944) and the intention was to spur on the partisan movement. The music is that of the Russian popular song Katyusha. Along with Bella ciao it is one of the most famous songs celebrating the resistance.

Recordings

Sample lyrics

Lyrics translated to English: The original lyrics in Italian:
The wind whistles, the storm rages,

our shoes are broken but we must march on,
to conquer the red spring,
where the sun of the future rises.
to conquer the red spring,
where the sun of the future rises.

Every country is home to the rebel,
every woman has a sigh for him,
the stars guide him through the night,
strong his heart and his arm when they strike.

If cruel death catches us
harsh revenge will come from the partisan
already certain is the harsh fate
of the vile treasonous fascist.

The wind stops and the storm calms,
the proud partisan returns home,
blowing in the wind his red flag,
victorious, at last free we are

Fischia il vento e infuria [/urla] la bufera,
scarpe rotte e pur bisogna andar
a conquistare la rossa primavera
dove sorge il sol dell'avvenir.
A conquistare la rossa primavera
dove sorge il sol dell'avvenir.

Ogni contrada è patria del ribelle,
ogni donna a lui dona un sospir,
nella notte lo guidano le stelle
forte il cuore e il braccio nel colpir.

Se ci coglie la crudele morte,
dura vendetta verrà dal partigian;
ormai sicura è [già] la dura sorte
del fascista vile traditor.

Cessa il vento, calma è la bufera,
torna a casa il fiero partigian,
sventolando la rossa sua bandiera;
vittoriosi e alfin liberi siam.

External links

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