I don’t know what face he had, nor his name
with what voice he spoke, with what voice then he sang
how many years he had seen then, what color his hair
but in my imagination I have his image
heroes are all young and beautiful
heroes are all young and beautiful
heroes are all young and beautiful
I know instead the era of the facts, what was his occupation
the first years of the century, machinist, railroad man
the days when the war started, the holy war of the poor
the train seemed likewise a legend of progress
speeding over the continent
speeding over the continent
speeding over the continent
and the locomotive seemed to be a strange monster
that Man dominated with his thoughts and his hand
roaring it left behind it distances that seemed infinite
it seemed to have inside a tremendous power
the same power as dynamite
the same power as dynamite
the same power as dynamite
But another great force then spread it’s wings
words that said “all men are equal”
and against the kings and tyrants it burst in the street
the proletarian bomb and it lit up the air
the torch of anarchy
the torch of anarchy
the torch of anarchy
A train every day passed by his station
a luxury train, far destination
he saw respected people, he thought of that velvet and gold
he thought of the lean days of the people around him
he thought of the train full of lords
he thought of the train full of lords
he thought of the train full of lords
I don’t know what happened, why he made the decision
maybe an ancient rage, generations without name
that cry out for revenge, they blinded his heart
he forgot piety, he forgot his goodness
his bomb, the steam engine
his bomb, the steam engine
his bomb, the steam engine
And on the track was the locomotive
the pulsating machine seemed to be alive
it seemed a young buck that, the brake just freed
bit the rail with muscles of steel
with the blind force of lightning
with the blind force of lightning
with the blind force of lightning
And one day like all the others, but maybe with more anger in his body
he thought that it held the key to repair some wrongs
he got up on the sleeping monster, he tried to drive away his fear
and before thinking of what he was about to do
the monster devoured the plains
the monster devoured the plains
the monster devoured the plains
The other train ran unaware and almost without hurry
no one imagined it was headed towards revenge
but at the station in Bologna arrived the news in a flash
“notice of emergency, act with urgency
a madman has launched himself against the train
a madman has launched himself against the train
a madman has launched himself against the train”
But meanwhile the locomotive runs, runs, runs
and the steam whistles and seems almost alive
and the whistle that fills the air seems to say to the stooped farmers
“Brother don’t fear, I run to my duty
Triumph to the proletarian justice!
Triumph to the proletarian justice!
Triumph to the proletarian justice!”
And meanwhile it runs, runs, runs still harder
and it runs, runs, runs, runs toward death
and nothing by now can hold back the immense destructive power
it waits only for the crash and then arrives at the mantle
of the great consoler
of the great consoler
of the great consoler
The story tells us how the race ended
the machine rerouted along a dead line
with the last of his animal yells the machine erupted red hot metal and lava
it exploded against the sky, then the smoke spread its veil
they picked him up, he was still breathing
they picked him up, he was still breathing
they picked him up, he was still breathing
But we like to think of him still behind the engine
while he runs the steam engine away
and that the news still reaches us one day
of a locomotive, like a living thing
speeding like a bomb against injustice!
speeding like a bomb against injustice!
speeding like a bomb against injustice!