| গানের কথা ইতালিয় ভাষায় |
ইংরেজি অনুবাদ |
বাংলা অনুবাদ
|
| প্রথম স্তবক
|
|
Fratelli d'Italia,
l'Italia s'è desta,
dell'elmo di Scipio
s'è cinta la testa.
Dov'è la Vittoria?
Le porga la chioma,
ché schiava di Roma
Iddio la creò.
|
Brothers of Italy,
Italy has awoken,
with Scipio's helmet
binding her head.
Where is Victory?
Let her bow down,[১]
For God has made her
Rome's slave.
|
ইতালির ভাইয়েরা,
ইতালি জেগে উঠেছে,
.
সে তার মাথা বেধেছে,
বিজয়ী কোথায়?
.
.
.
|
| গায়কদল
|
|
Stringiamci a coorte,
siam pronti alla morte.
Siam pronti alla morte,
l'Italia chiamò.
Stringiamci a coorte,
siam pronti alla morte.
Siam pronti alla morte,
l'Italia chiamò!
|
Let us join in a cohort,
We are ready to die.[২]
We are ready to die,
Italy has called.
Let us join in a cohort,
We are ready to die.
We are ready to die,
Italy has called!
|
চল আমরা দলে যোগই,
আমারা মৃত্যুর জন্য প্রস্তুত।
আমারা মৃত্যুর জন্য প্রস্তুত।
ইতালি ডাক দিয়েছে।
চল আমরা দলে যোগই,
আমারা মৃত্যুর জন্য প্রস্তুত।
আমারা মৃত্যুর জন্য প্রস্তুত।
ইতালি ডাক দিয়েছে।
|
| দ্বিতীয় স্তবক
|
|
Noi fummo da secoli[৩]
calpesti, derisi,
perché non siam popolo,
perché siam divisi.
Raccolgaci un'unica
bandiera, una speme:
di fonderci insieme
già l'ora suonò.
|
We were for centuries
Downtrodden and derided,
because we are not one people,
because we are divided.
Let one flag, one hope
gather us all.
The hour has struck
for us to join together.
|
আমরা শতাব্দীর জন্য ছিলাম
.
কারণ আমরা এক জনগণ নই,
কারণ আমরা ভিন্ন,
.
.
.
.
|
| গায়কদল
|
|
Uniamoci, amiamoci,
l'unione e l'amore
rivelano ai popoli
le vie del Signore.
Giuriamo far libero
il suolo natio:
uniti, per Dio,
chi vincer ci può?
|
Let us unite and love one another,
Union and love
Show the people
The way of the Lord.
Let us swear to free
Our native soil;
United under God,
Who can defeat us?
|
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
|
| গায়কদল
|
|
Dall'Alpi a Sicilia
Dovunque è Legnano,
Ogn'uom di Ferruccio
Ha il core, ha la mano,
I bimbi d'Italia
Si chiaman Balilla,
Il suon d'ogni squilla
I Vespri suonò.
|
From the Alps to Sicily,
Legnano is everywhere;
Every man has the heart
and hand of Ferruccio
The children of Italy
Are all called Balilla;
Every trumpet blast
sounds the Vespers.
|
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
|
| গায়কদল
|
|
Son giunchi che piegano
Le spade vendute:
Già l'Aquila d'Austria
Le penne ha perdute.
Il sangue d'Italia,
Il sangue Polacco,
Bevé, col cosacco,
Ma il cor le bruciò.
|
Mercenary swords,
they're feeble reeds.
The Austrian eagle
Has already lost its plumes.
The blood of Italy
and the Polish blood
It drank, along with the Cossack,
But it burned its heart.
|
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
|
| গায়কদল
|
