The Piave murmured sweet and placid at the passage

of the first infantrymen on may 24th

The army marched to reach the frontier

To make a barrier against the enemy

Mute the infantrymen passed that night

They had to keep quiet and go on

Meanwhile they could hear from the beloved banks

the soft whispered rejoice of the waves

It was a sweet and pleasing presage

the Piave murmured

Foreigner shall not pass!

But in a sad night voices ran of a dark event,

and the Piave heard the wrath and the dismay...

Oh, how many people he'd seen

coming down, leaving their roofs

since the enemy burst into Caporetto

Profugees everywhere! From the far mountains

they came to pack all his bridges

They heard then, from the violated banks,

the sad whispered babble of the waves:

like a sigh in that dark autumn

the Piave murmured

Foreigner's coming back!

And the enemy returned; for pride, for hunger

he wanted to pour out all his longings...

He saw the open plains, from up there: he still wanted

feed himself and exult like before.

No! Said Piave! No! Said the infantrymen!

Nevermore the enemy take a step forward!

They saw the Piave swell the banks,

and the waves fought like the infantrymen...

Red of the blood of the haughty enemy,

the Piave commanded

Go back, foreigner!

The enemy withdraw up to Trieste, up to Trento...

And victory opened wings to wind!

The ancient pact was sacred:

among the ranks were seen

resurrect Oberdan, Sauro, Battisti...

Finally, the Italian valor broke

the gallows and weapons of the hanger!

Secured the Alps... freed the banks

And the Piave calmed: the waves set...

On homeland's soil, the surly empires won

Peace did not found

neither oppressed nor foreigners!