White is their uniform As the icy soil where they walk Towards the highest mountains To domain the sky Cold is the front line White is their uniform As the clouds in which they walk Marching towards the tops Pure is their valour The "white war" has started The austrian tentacle Never shall embrace these lands In which our tricolour flies pride Entrapped by the eternal frost And the fire of the enemy soldiers They fight with honour and heroism Never have abandoned the trench Never they have lost the italic pride "Solemn hour of national claim has ringed, Soldiers! Your is the glory to plant the italian tricolour over the holy lands that Nature paid as borders of our Motherland; your is the glory to carry out the work begun with much heroism by our Fathers! With secure faith in victory that your bravery, your abnegation, your discipline will obtain" (V.Emanuele 26/05/1915) White is their uniform As the icy soil where they walk To domain the sky We will remember them We shall honour their memory Pure is their valour