Learn Italian With Marco Mengoni with these 23 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)
Due Vite paints the picture of two lovers who feel like the only ones awake in the universe. From empty houses and rooftops to late-night hangovers cured with coffee and lemon, Marco Mengoni strings together vivid snapshots of a relationship that is messy, thrilling, and stubbornly alive. The pair keep circling each other in a private cosmos where arguments flare, laughter crashes in, and sleep is a rare visitor. Every verse pulses with the tension between losing one another and clinging tighter, as if each moment could be the last song before the moon itself blows up.
The title means Two Lives, and that is exactly what the couple juggle: the life they share and the separate paths that keep pulling them apart. Mengoni turns their chaos into a soaring pop anthem powered by hope. Even when the music “doesn’t reach here,” the lovers promise to stay, talk in the dark, and chase the chance to rewrite their story one more time. It is a reminder that passion survives in the imperfections and that the wild orbit of love is worth every sleepless night.
Picture this: the sun is blazing, waves keep a lazy rhythm, and Marco Mengoni leans back in his deckchair declaring, “Sto bene al mare!” The song is a breezy refusal of city life and its glittering distractions. Instead of following his dad’s practical path with “tubi,” or chasing cinematic fame at Cinecittà, Marco imagines a simpler horizon where the only script is the tide. Concrete skylines, designer jeans, and cocktail-clinking skyscraper parties all fade when compared with salt on skin and sand between toes. The sea becomes a metaphor for authenticity, a place where money, status symbols, and urban noise lose their power. It is the promise of a reset – a chance to breathe, to feel small in a good way, and to remember what really matters.
Enter Sayf and Rkomi, who add their own twist to this summer postcard. Sayf admits the shore memories sting at first, yet he’s determined to turn a wasted summer into a healing one – whispering love lines because affection, like sight, can be surprisingly blind. Rkomi looks beyond the horizon, wondering what lies “all’altra parte del mare.” He dreams of a spiritual trek to Timbuktu, dodging the temptations of luxury fashion and learning to let one love be enough. Together, the trio turn the coastline into a playground of self-discovery: part escape, part mirror, and entirely irresistible. By the time the chorus rolls back in, you can almost feel the sunscreen and hear the seagulls – proof that sometimes the best therapy is simply being “al mare.”
“Voglio” is Marco Mengoni’s exhilarating shout of freedom, a wish-list where he piles up daring dreams like candy on Halloween night. From craving a fast motorbike and empty streets to wanting to dance naked and kiss his enemy, the Italian singer strings together playful, rebellious fantasies that paint the portrait of someone hungry for life in all its extremes. Each “voglio” (I want) feels like a spark, lighting up desires that swing between childlike mischief and fearless provocation: robbing a bank with hands already raised, putting shoes on a friend’s couch, or telling true love it was never true at all.
Under the fun, the song hides a deeper message about the restless search for identity and authenticity. By demanding everything — a new skin, a dinosaur heart, even the power to press a big red button — Mengoni taps into that primitive urge to feel intensely, to test boundaries, and to live louder than the ticking clock. “Voglio” invites us to celebrate our contradictions, laugh at our own audacity, and remember that burning curiosity that makes us feel alive between light and dark, sleep and wake, life and death.
Marco Mengoni turns the boxing ring into a mirror of daily life. In “Muhammad Ali,” he compares our ordinary ups and downs to the legendary fighter’s rounds in the ring: we take blows from doubts, wrong turns, and the face that greets us in the mirror each morning, yet we stay on our feet. Synchronizing heartbeats, missing buses, falling back in love after a storm – every small victory or setback counts as a punch or a dodge, measured in moments as fleeting as an ad break.
The chorus unifies us all under the boxer’s gloves. By chanting “Siamo tutti Muhammad Ali,” Mengoni reminds listeners that courage is universal: anyone can win or lose “in un attimo,” but the real triumph lies in standing up again, bruised yet smiling. It’s an anthem of resilience, urging you to trust your instincts, accept imperfection, and keep dancing on life’s canvas like the Greatest himself.
Imagine the world crumbling around you, yet you find calm by focusing on the one person who makes everything feel right. That is the heartbeat of “L’essenziale,” Marco Mengoni’s soaring Italian pop anthem. The lyrics paint a movie-like scene: heroes clashing, mistakes made, noisy chaos everywhere. In the middle of that storm, the singer retreats into silence so he can “compose new spaces” filled with fresh hopes that he shares with his lover.
Mengoni’s message is simple yet powerful: when life feels overwhelming, cut out the excess, drop the bad habits, and return to what truly matters. Love may not follow logic, but its raw clarity shows him that you are the essential—the steady center he can always come back to.
Have you ever wanted to press a giant reset button on life? In “Mandare Tutto All’aria” Marco Mengoni captures that urge with cinematic flair. The lyrics follow a narrator who stumbles home “with a broken face,” exhausted by empty routines, social-media noise, and his own broken promises. He wonders why people still take selfies, why he always plans to run in the morning yet never does, and why nostalgia makes the past look better than it was. This inner monologue paints a vivid picture of modern restlessness: we feel stuck, we crave change, yet we keep spinning in the same circles.
At its core, the song is a tug-of-war between blowing everything up and fighting to fix what matters. Mengoni’s voice swings from frustration to tenderness as he begs a lover not to leave him “chasing you in the dark of the city.” The repeated plea to “mandare tutto all’aria” becomes both a threat and a cathartic daydream, reminding us that sometimes the first step toward growth is admitting we’re lost. Equal parts confession, breakup anthem, and call for reinvention, the track invites listeners to own their melancholy, confront their fears, and—just maybe—choose a new road instead of running away.
"Duemila Volte" is Marco Mengoni’s heartfelt confession of a love so intense it feels both impossible and irresistible. Throughout the lyrics he stacks vivid images – trying to sketch a lover’s face “like pulling a sword from stone,” yearning to “live in your eyes,” chasing dawn after nights that end at 6 a.m. The repetition of ordinary cravings (another cigarette, the borrowed T-shirt) contrasts with larger-than-life desires (a “perfect life,” finding “water on Mars”), painting a relationship that swings between everyday intimacy and epic longing.
At its core the song circles around a powerful paradox: I have to lose you so I can come looking for you another two-thousand times. Distance, forgiveness, and the thrill of reunion feed an addictive cycle where separation only intensifies attraction. Mengoni’s voice turns that contradiction into a mantra of modern romance, reminding us that some connections burn brightest precisely because they are never quite within reach.
“Cambia Un Uomo” invites us into the raw confession booth of Marco Mengoni’s heart. The singer owns up to his flaws, calling himself a “champion of lost causes,” yet he refuses to quit on love. He imagines a dramatic last night on earth where every other night would be traded away just to make things right. The chorus hits home with a simple truth: it is only through forgiveness, not perfection, that a person truly changes.
Listening feels like riding an emotional roller-coaster; one moment he’s day-dreaming about naming future children, the next he’s ready to shout her name in anger. That tension between hope and regret is universal and relatable. Mengoni’s message? Real love is messy, noisy, even painful, but if you’re brave enough to forgive—and to ask for forgiveness—you unlock the power to become someone new.
Marco Mengoni’s “No Stress” is a neon-lit pep talk wrapped in an electro-pop groove. The lyrics splash vivid snapshots—marshmallow clouds, hostel nights, Rambo-style sprints—across a sky where worries lurk in the dark. Each "Hey, baby!" is a friendly nudge to swap anxiety for a dance move, shouting louder than football hooligans if that’s what it takes. The chorus lays down the golden rule: pretend tonight is the last night, turn the panic in your head into music, and stop racing.
Beneath the catchy hook beats a simple philosophy. Even if the forecast predicts clouds and we feel like aliens, choosing joy can chase the darkness away. By mixing pop-culture winks—from techno against tango to Easy Rider freedom and Santa Britney redemption—Mengoni shows that, no matter our style, we all crave the same thing: to breathe, move, and sparkle under the stars. It is a carefree anthem that urges you to drop the drama, crank the volume, and live right now—no stress.
Incenso paints a cinematic moment in the cramped front seat of a car while rain taps the windshield like a synth beat. Mengoni follows two lovers who try to turn ordinary chaos into magic: traffic becomes rolling waves, thunder becomes their dance track, and a simple parking spot turns into the entire universe. Their bond feels fragile yet fragrant, like incense burning bright in a stormy night. He clings to the idea that shared dreams can outlive reality, promising to plant a flower where nothing should grow and return a year later to name it— a rebellious act of hope against impossible odds.
At its heart, the song balances wonder and heartbreak. One partner is already slipping away, and the singer wrestles with doubt—“Who am I to judge you now that you’re leaving?”—while begging for reassurance that the memories still matter. Incenso celebrates love’s power to transform the mundane into celestial adventure, even as it acknowledges that such moments may be fleeting. It invites listeners to keep dancing with the thunder, to keep daring impossible flowers to bloom, and to believe that even a goodbye can be scented with possibility.
Italian pop star Marco Mengoni paints a cinematic collage of modern life in In Tempo: dimly lit apartments, crowded train stations, whispered promises, binge-worthy TV shows and sudden urges to wander “old streets with new shoes”. The lyrics roll past like quick snapshots, showing how we survive on a patchwork of words, silences, courage and excuses. Wrapped in smooth vocals and steady rhythm, the song captures that restless moment when ordinary days feel both safe and suffocating.
Halfway through, reality bends. The singer meets a mirror-image “prisoner who is free” and realizes his own voice is missing. This vivid dream shakes him awake just in time, sparking a secret plan to slip away at night, leave no note and purposely lose the road. In Tempo is a call to break routine, reclaim identity and change your rhythm while the clock is still kind, inviting listeners to escape the familiar and rediscover themselves in motion.
“Pazza Musica” is a joyful shout-out to the power of music when life feels messy. Marco Mengoni and Elodie paint snapshots of modern restlessness: scrolling through screens, late-night TV haze, hangovers, and headaches. Yet every time anxiety creeps in, they crank up that pazza musica—the “crazy music” that drowns out panic, lifts their gaze to the sea, and reminds them they are not doing so badly after all.
The song celebrates carefree memories and impulsive moments: getting locked out of the house, singing silly tunes in the street, running so fast that fear cannot catch up. Even when people disappoint us or rules weigh us down, this wild soundtrack becomes a loyal companion. In other words, Pazza Musica is an invitation to shove worries aside, blast your favorite song, and let the rhythm guide you back to freedom.
Feel the thunder and the tenderness wrapped into one song. “Proteggiti Da Me” finds Italian powerhouse Marco Mengoni standing right in the eye of an emotional storm. With rain, lightning, and a mischievous dose of jealousy swirling around him, he admits that his own flaws could hurt the person he loves the most. Rather than hiding behind sweet words, he strips away the compliments and confesses: “Protect yourself from me if you can.” The track pulses with regret and self-awareness, painting a vivid picture of someone who knows they can be toxic yet still cares enough to warn the other person.
Behind the dramatic imagery lies a relatable message. We all battle inner tempests, and sometimes the bravest act of love is admitting we might not be good for someone else until we change. Mengoni flips the usual love-song script, turning the spotlight inward and asking listeners to recognize their own destructive patterns before they scorch what they cherish. The result is a cathartic anthem that teaches: facing your shadows can be the first step toward protecting those you love—and yourself—from unnecessary heartbreak.
Un'Altra Storia paints the bittersweet picture of two kindred spirits who recognize each other’s sadness at a single glance. Marco Mengoni and Franco126 give voice to that strange form of melancholy we sometimes share with a person who feels like our mirror: together you drink bubbles to chase nostalgia away, yet every embrace on the stairs hints at an escape already in motion. The narrator keeps watching, half-tempted to run after the other, half-aware that every memory, every feeling, belongs to them only “a metà”—incompletely.
As night falls and the city turns into a desert under street-lamps, the song asks one aching question: Why are you smiling if we are both still lost? Time flies when you try to kill it, and what once felt like the whole world is now simply “another story.” The track becomes an anthem for anyone who has loved, let go, and realized that some connections remain unforgettable even when the people walk away. Its tone is tender, reflective, and irresistibly relatable, inviting listeners to relive their own “half-owned” memories while humming along.
Sai Che is Marco Mengoni’s heartfelt postcard to a past love. The singer revisits the special spot where the couple once found sunshine in the rain, only to feel that the carefree magic has faded. As memories of their simple joys flood back—“Eravamo davvero felici con poco” (“We were truly happy with so little”)—he realizes that, no matter how hard he tries, his affection is still larger than himself. The song captures that tug-of-war between wanting to move on and the irresistible pull of unfinished love, reminding us that some feelings refuse to follow any rulebook.
Beneath the piano-driven pop sound lies a universal message: true connection doesn’t need grand promises or perfect settings. Mengoni celebrates those tiny, shining moments that outlive time itself, suggesting there is always a chance to start over if the love that remains is strong enough. It is a bittersweet yet uplifting anthem for anyone who has ever discovered that forgetting can be harder than falling in love in the first place.
“Io Ti Aspetto” is Marco Mengoni’s heartfelt confession of waiting for a love that feels both distant and ever-present. Using vivid images like “words entrusted to the sea of time” and “dreams folded in a suitcase,” he paints the picture of someone who refuses to give up hope. Even when absence weighs heavy, the singer keeps rising to his feet, convinced that eyes can adapt to anything and feet can still lift off in flight. The chorus becomes a mantra: “I wait for you and, in the meantime, I live,” celebrating resilience while acknowledging the loneliness of a heart that “still lives alone.”
In the second half of the song, Mengoni wrestles with the idea of paths that once intertwined but now risk thinning to a fragile thread. Beneath a “downpour of stars,” he vows to rename each one, searching for the brightest version of himself. The message is both romantic and empowering: true love might be absent for now, yet life keeps moving, and so does he. Waiting here is not passive; it is an active, hopeful journey where the sky gradually feels lighter and the heart learns that, sooner or later, it will no longer be alone.
Esseri Umani is Marco Mengoni’s heartfelt shout against a world obsessed with perfect images. The lyrics call out how society rushes to judge on looks and trophies, yet ignores the tears we shed in private. Mengoni flips the spotlight toward our hidden side, reminding us that real strength lives in vulnerability. When the singer says Prendi la mano e rialzati he is extending a friendly hand, telling us we do not have to face life’s battles alone.
The chorus bursts with hope: Credo negli esseri umani… che hanno coraggio di essere umani. Here, Mengoni celebrates everyday bravery – the courage to be imperfect, to feel deeply, to love. The repeated line L’amore ha vinto, vince e vincerà crowns the song with optimism, proclaiming that love has triumphed, is triumphing, and will keep on winning. In short, the song is an uplifting anthem that urges listeners to drop the mask, lean on one another, and trust that compassion and authenticity will always come out on top.
What happens when the person you love decides to walk away, but your heart refuses to let them leave? Non Passerai puts us right at that emotional crossroads. Marco Mengoni paints the scene with cinematic images: empty picture frames, closed doors, and a dizzying climb to the place where his lover once stood. Every line is a tug-of-war between accepting the breakup and the stubborn hope that the feeling will somehow outlast the goodbye.
The chorus is the song’s heartbeat, repeating like a mantra: "Tu non passerai mai" – "You will never pass." No matter how high he climbs or how fiercely reality tries to pull him down, he is convinced that memories of her will remain anchored inside him. The track blends vulnerability with determination, turning personal heartbreak into an anthem for anyone who has ever tried to move on while a love story keeps echoing in their chest.
"Mi Fiderò" ("I Will Trust") is Marco Mengoni and Madame’s heartfelt invitation to take a daring leap into love. The lyrics paint the singer pacing along thin lines between what we say and what we do, trying to hide fears behind imagined borders. Life keeps surprising him with tough questions, yet the other person’s perfectly timed smile shifts anger into laughter. In this swirl of uncertainty, the repeated mantra Mi fiderò becomes a promise to rely on the partner’s words, hands, and bravery, even when fear has tried to bury courage from everyone, including God.
Trust here is neither blind nor naïve; it is a conscious choice to live fully. Mengoni admits he will keep some reservations, but he prefers “something worth suffering for” over “nothing worth living for.” He explores how real intimacy begins when both lovers drop their self-imposed limits, let go of constant explanations, and simply feel. The song’s sensual imagery of nighttime hands leading to unknown places and lips whispering mantras turns vulnerability into strength, reminding us that loving with open eyes can free us from the biggest fear of all—loving without fear at all.
Pronto A Correre (Ready to Run) is Marco Mengoni’s triumphant break-up anthem, turning the sting of a failed relationship into rocket fuel for self-discovery. At first he describes feeling immobile, stuck beside a partner who drains his energy. The moment she disappears into the crowd, though, the world suddenly widens: he brightens every corner of the house, repaints the walls with new dreams, and vows that no one will stop him — not now, not ever.
The hook “Grazie per avermi fatto male” (Thank you for hurting me) flips pain into gratitude. Mengoni does ordinary things — walking through the city center, grocery shopping — to prove he is no longer fragile. Love that turns to ash is tossed aside, making room for a fierce promise: he will run solo controvento (alone against the wind) and live for himself. The song is a soaring declaration of independence, urging listeners to lace up their own shoes and sprint toward a brighter, self-powered future.
Non Me Ne Accorgo is Marco Mengoni’s poetic confession of emotional whiplash: “Sai che musica è il dolore? / Sai che musica è il rumore?” He flips between “Sto bene” and “Sto male,” painting love as a mixtape where sweet melodies crash into static. The guitar lying on the bed, the verses never written, and the partner who is “maybe here, maybe gone” all underline one truth—this relationship lives in a limbo of half-spoken promises and loud, restless thoughts.
Instead of rushing to label what they are, Mengoni would rather feel everything, even if it burns. He leaves time to sort the promises and lets doubt become a compass. The song invites us to embrace the beautiful mess of not knowing, to skate on a “slippery heart,” and to realize that balance often appears only when we stop searching so hard for it. It is a soundtrack for anyone caught between “I’m fine” and “I’m not,” learning that sometimes the best answer to “Cosa siamo noi?” is simply to keep listening to the music of uncertainty.
Welcome to the mythical Valley of Kings, where Marco Mengoni reigns supreme! In this song, the Italian artist uses the image of a betrayed monarch to talk about the end of a toxic relationship. The “king” has discovered that his “queen” has been unfaithful, so he banishes her from his realm, ordering her “fuori dalla mia proprietà” and casting the crown’s gold out of the city walls. The lyrics paint a vivid scene of power, pride, and wounded honor, showing how heartbreak can feel like losing an empire—but also how reclaiming your throne can be liberating.
At its heart, La Valle dei Re is a bold anthem of self-respect. As the royal gates close, the singer refuses apologies, empty words, or recycled excuses. The repeated line “e non mi importa se” (“and I don’t care if”) highlights his new-found freedom: he will remain a king even without his former queen. By turning personal pain into a grand medieval drama, Mengoni invites listeners to put on their own crowns, set healthy boundaries, and rule their emotional kingdoms with confidence.
“Solo Due Satelliti” paints the picture of two lovers who keep circling each other like celestial bodies that can never truly drift apart. Marco Mengoni fills the lyrics with vivid, almost cinematic snapshots: the perfume left on someone’s hands, a goodbye whispered behind closed doors, frantic searches through unfamiliar streets. Every moment shouts the same message—no matter how far they run, their gravitational pull drags them back together.
The song balances tender intimacy and restless urgency. One second the couple wonders where on earth they might meet just to share a soft touch, the next they are imagining a place far enough to end it forever. Yet their love is “folle” (crazy) and “pazzo” (mad), refusing to find such a place. They are “solo due satelliti,” seemingly free yet forever bound to the same orbit, spinning through break-ups, reunions, and raw emotions that never truly let go.