Song Lyrics: Volare (Modugno)

If Azzurro is Italy's unofficial second anthem, Nel blu dipinto di blu — universally known by its chorus, Volare — is the country's most famous musical export. Written by Domenico Modugno and Franco Migliacci, sung by Modugno at the 1958 Sanremo Festival (which it won) and at Eurovision the same year (where it placed second but won the world), Volare sold over twenty million copies, was covered by Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, David Bowie, and Gipsy Kings, and still functions, six and a half decades later, as Italian shorthand for "joy."

This page takes a few representative verses and uses them to teach the grammar of the dream-narrative — a register that turns out to involve more imperfetto, more congiuntivo, and more substantivized infinitives than any B1 textbook quite prepares you for.

The artist and the song

Domenico Modugno (1928-1994) was a singer, songwriter, and actor from Apulia who became one of the foundational figures of modern Italian popular music. Before Volare, Italian canzonetta had been dominated by orchestral romance and Neapolitan classics; Modugno's performance — open arms outstretched on the Sanremo stage as he sang Volare, oh oh — broke with that tradition and announced a new, more emotionally direct, more cinematic Italian song.

The song's premise is a small surrealism: the narrator dreams that he paints his hands and face blue, and is then carried off into the sky by the wind. The chorus simply rejoices in the act of flying. It is a song about the imagination as escape — and about how Italian, with its rich tense system, can describe imagined action as if it were happening.

The text (representative verses)

The full lyrics are under copyright. Below are a few of the most-cited verses, used here for grammatical commentary under fair use.

Penso che un sogno così non ritorni mai più, mi dipingevo le mani e la faccia di blu. Poi d'improvviso venivo dal vento rapito, e incominciavo a volare nel cielo infinito.

Volare, oh oh, cantare, oh oh oh oh, nel blu dipinto di blu, felice di stare lassù.

A few verses, an entire grammar tour.

Grammar in action

Penso che + congiuntivo

The opening line — Penso che un sogno così non ritorni mai più — is a textbook trigger for the congiuntivo presente. Pensare che (to think that), when expressing personal opinion or belief about a non-fact, requires the subordinate verb in the subjunctive.

Ritorni is the third-person singular congiuntivo presente of ritornare. The indicative form would be ritorna — but ritorna would imply objective fact, which is not what the singer means. He's expressing a subjective doubt: I think (but I don't know for certain) that a dream like this won't come back.

Penso che un sogno così non ritorni mai più.

I think a dream like this will never come back.

Penso che lui abbia ragione.

I think he's right.

Credo che sia troppo tardi.

I think it's too late.

The triggers in this family — pensare che, credere che, sembrare che, supporre che, immaginare che, dubitare cheall reach for congiuntivo because they introduce subjective evaluation rather than asserted fact. Compare:

Penso che lui sia stanco.

I think he's tired. (subjective belief — congiuntivo)

So che lui è stanco.

I know he's tired. (factual knowledge — indicativo)

💡
The congiuntivo trigger isn't really che — it's the epistemic stance of the matrix verb. Pensare and credere introduce subjective belief, so they trigger; sapere and vedere introduce assertion, so they don't.

Mai più — strengthened never

Non... mai più is the standard Italian way to say "never again." It pairs three negative elements:

  • non — the standard preverbal negator
  • mai — "ever / never"
  • più — "more / no longer"

Together: "not ever more" → "never again." The construction is fixed, and dropping any of the three changes the meaning:

Non lo vedo più.

I don't see him anymore.

Non lo vedo mai.

I never see him.

Non lo vedo mai più.

I'll never see him again.

The three-part non... mai più is the strongest of the three — it combines temporal "never" with terminative "no more" into one compact phrase.

The cascade of imperfetto

Now the heart of the song's grammar: mi dipingevo... venivo... incominciavo. Three verbs, all in the imperfetto, all describing the dream-action.

Why imperfetto and not passato prossimo? Because the dream isn't being narrated as a sequence of completed events. It's being inhabited — the singer is back inside the dream, painting his hands, being lifted by the wind, beginning to fly, all at once, as a continuous, immersive scene. The imperfetto is the tense of duration, of "while," of "in the middle of." It's the tense you use when you want the listener to be inside the action, not watching it from outside.

Mi dipingevo le mani e la faccia di blu.

I was painting my hands and face blue.

Venivo dal vento rapito.

I was being carried away by the wind.

Incominciavo a volare nel cielo infinito.

I was beginning to fly in the endless sky.

If Modugno had used the passato prossimoMi sono dipinto le mani... sono stato rapito... ho cominciato a volare — the song would feel like an after-the-fact report. The imperfetto puts us inside the experience.

💡
The imperfetto is the tense of immersion. When Italian wants to put you inside an ongoing scene rather than report a finished event, it reaches for imperfetto — and that's especially true for dreams, memories, descriptions, and any narrative that wants to feel lived rather than recounted.

Why imperfetto for an imagined dream?

A subtle point worth lingering on: the dream never actually happened. Why is the imperfetto — a tense of past reality — used to describe an imagined event?

Because imagined sustained action shares the aspectual profile of habitual or descriptive past action: it's framed as ongoing, durative, inside-the-scene. Italian doesn't reserve imperfetto for things that "really happened" — it reserves it for actions presented as ongoing or background, real or otherwise. Compare:

Da bambino volavo sempre nei miei sogni.

As a child I was always flying in my dreams. (habitual, possibly imaginary)

Mi vedevo già famoso, già ricco, in quella casa di Roma.

I already saw myself famous, already rich, in that house in Rome. (imagined projection in imperfetto)

The imperfetto in Volare does the same work: it builds an inhabited interior scene, regardless of whether the scene corresponds to anything in the external world.

Dipingevo... rapito... dipinto: forms of dipingere

Three forms of dipingere (to paint) appear in these verses:

  • dipingevoimperfetto, 1st person singular: "I was painting"
  • dipintopast participle: "painted"
  • (and earlier: dipingere — infinitive)

Because dipinto is irregular (not dipingu-to but dipinto, with consonant change), it's worth a flag. Other Italian verbs with the -into irregular participle pattern include spingere (spinto), vincere (vinto), cingere (cinto), and piangere (pianto). All -nC-stems converge on -nto for the participle.

In nel blu dipinto di blu — "in the blue painted blue" — dipinto is being used adjectivally, modifying the implicit noun cielo (sky): "in the [sky-]blue painted blue." This is a poetic doubling — blue painted onto blue, the sky absorbing more of itself — that gives the line its visual force.

Volare nel blu dipinto di blu.

To fly in the blue painted blue.

Stare + di + infinito-stative: felice di stare lassù

The final line in this excerpt — felice di stare lassù — uses three elements worth flagging:

  1. felice di + infinitiveadjectives of emotion plus di plus infinitive. This is a high-frequency Italian construction: contento di vederti, felice di sentirti, triste di partire, stanco di aspettare. The di is required; an English speaker may want to drop it.

  2. stare rather than essere. Stare in Italian is not just a synonym of essere. It often means "to be in a place / to remain / to stay," with a stronger sense of location or duration. Stare lassù is "to be up there / to remain up there," with a sense of dwelling.

  3. lassù, the location adverb (compare quassù in Azzurro). The full set is quassù, lassù, quaggiù, laggiù.

Felice di stare lassù.

Happy to be up there.

Sono contento di averti conosciuto.

I'm happy to have met you.

È stanca di lavorare.

She's tired of working.

Volare, cantare — the substantivized infinitive

The chorus's Volare, oh oh / cantare, oh oh oh oh uses the bare infinitive as a noun. Volare and cantare aren't being used as commands or as parts of verb phrases — they're being used as the names of activities, which Italian (like most Romance languages) does effortlessly with the bare infinitive.

Volare è il mio sogno.

To fly / Flying is my dream.

Cantare mi rende felice.

Singing makes me happy.

Mangiare bene è importante.

Eating well is important.

English uses two forms for this — the gerund ("flying," "singing") or the to-infinitive ("to fly," "to sing") — and the choice matters in English. Italian uses only the bare infinitive, which is one of the few places where Italian is less rich than English in form, but compensates with cleaner syntax.

💡
Italian uses the bare infinitive for any "the activity of -ing" reading. Don't try to map Italian infinitives to English gerunds; treat them as their own thing — a verb form that doubles as the abstract name of its action.

The shape of the chorus: vocatives and exclamatives

The oh oh of the chorus isn't grammar in the technical sense — it's vocalic exclamation, the Italian "lalala" — but it's worth noting that the song's chorus is built almost entirely without finite verbs. Volare, cantare, nel blu dipinto di blu, felice di stare lassù. Two infinitives, a prepositional phrase, an adjectival phrase — and that's the whole emotional core. Italian song uses verbless or non-finite chunks more freely than English, and Volare is a brilliant example.

Vocabulary: dreams and joy

The song's vocabulary cluster covers dreams, sky, color, and elevation:

  • il sogno — dream
  • il cielo — sky
  • infinito — infinite, endless
  • il vento — wind
  • rapito (past participle of rapire, "to abduct, kidnap, carry off") — carried away, ravished
  • dipinto (past participle of dipingere) — painted
  • azzurro / blu — sky-blue / dark blue
  • felice — happy
  • lassù — up there
  • volare — to fly
  • cantare — to sing

Note the emotional difference between azzurro and blu: azzurro is the lighter, cleaner sky-blue, the color of the Italian summer sky and the national football team (gli Azzurri). Blu is the darker, deeper, more saturated blue. Volare uses bothNel blu dipinto di blu — possibly to emphasize the deeper, more intense blue of the painted dream against the lighter blue of the sky.

Common Mistakes

❌ Penso che lui ha ragione.

Wrong mood — *pensare che* triggers the congiuntivo. Use *abbia*, not *ha*.

✅ Penso che lui abbia ragione.

I think he's right.

❌ Volare è una mio sogno.

Wrong gender agreement — *sogno* is masculine, so the possessive must be *mio* (or with article: *un mio sogno*).

✅ Volare è un mio sogno.

Flying is a dream of mine.

❌ Sono felice vederti.

Missing preposition — adjectives of emotion take *di* before an infinitive in Italian. *Felice di vederti*, not *felice vederti*.

✅ Sono felice di vederti.

I'm happy to see you.

❌ Mi dipingevo le mani con blu.

Wrong preposition — for the color one paints something, Italian uses *di*: *dipingevo le mani di blu*. *Con* would mean 'with [paint]' as instrument.

✅ Mi dipingevo le mani di blu.

I was painting my hands blue.

❌ Non ritorna mai più? Cosa è successo?

If you mean 'I don't think a dream like this will ever come back,' the matrix verb requires congiuntivo: *Non penso che ritorni mai più*. The bare *Non ritorna mai più* is grammatical only as an indicative assertion of fact.

✅ Non penso che ritorni mai più.

I don't think it'll ever come back.

Key takeaways

  • Volare (officially Nel blu dipinto di blu) is one of the most internationally famous Italian songs, written and performed by Domenico Modugno, who won Sanremo and placed second at Eurovision in 1958.
  • Penso che / Credo che trigger the congiuntivo because they introduce subjective belief, not factual assertion.
  • The cascade of imperfetto verbs (dipingevo, venivo, incominciavo) puts the listener inside the dream-scene rather than reporting it from outside. Imperfetto is for immersion; passato prossimo is for reporting.
  • Felice / contento / stanco / triste + di + infinito is the standard pattern for emotional adjectives plus an action.
  • The bare infinitive doubles as the name of an activity — volare = "flying," cantare = "singing." No gerund needed.
  • The four location adverbs quassù, quaggiù, lassù, laggiù are single words; the song uses lassù in a parallel role to quassù in Azzurro.

For more on the imperfetto, see the imperfect overview. For the subjunctive after opinion verbs, see triggers — opinion verbs. For the comparison companion piece, see Azzurro. To return to the broader context, see the Annotated Texts overview.

Now practice Italian

Reading grammar gets you part of the way. The exercises are where it sticks — free, no signup needed.

Open the Italian course →

Related Topics

  • L'Imperfetto: OverviewA2The backbone of Italian past narration — the tense for ongoing, habitual, and descriptive past situations, and how it differs from the passato prossimo.
  • Congiuntivo after Verbs of Opinion (penso, credo, ritengo)B1Why opinion verbs like pensare, credere, and sembrare trigger the congiuntivo — and why educated Italians use it even though most native speakers don't, in colloquial speech.
  • L'Infinito: OverviewA1The infinito is Italian's most flexible verb form — it serves as the dictionary entry, the second verb in chains, the form after prepositions, a noun in its own right, and the negative tu imperative. Here's the whole landscape.
  • Song Lyrics: Azzurro (Celentano)B1An annotated reading of representative verses from Adriano Celentano's Azzurro (1968) — Italy's national second-anthem — covering the present-tense narrative voice, eccola qua presentational, mental verbs with di + infinito, the quasi quasi idiom, and summer-nostalgia vocabulary.
  • Annotated Texts: OverviewA1The Annotated Texts group presents real Italian texts — from A1 dialogues to C2 poetry — with grammatical commentary. Grammar in context, not in isolation: see how the rules from the rest of the guide play out in dialogues, news, recipes, songs, and literature.