Aveva un bavero

On cold and dark evenings
by the fireplace,
how many stories, how many fairy tales
my grandfather used to tell.
The most beautiful one I remember
is the story of a love,
of a passionate love
that didn't end happily.
And the heart of a poet
was so moved
that the story of those times
was put into music like this:
He had a saffron-colored lapel
and a cyclamen-colored jacket,
he walked from Lodi to Milan
to meet the beautiful Gigogin.
Walking down the street
he sang to her, 'My sweet love,
Gigogin, my hope,
with your kisses you steal my heart.'
(Spoken)
And the story continues:
He was sent as a soldier to Piedmont
and every morning he sent her a flower
on the water of an irrigation ditch
that passed through Milan.
Until one day:
He, knowing that his return
was finally near,
placed an orange blossom on the water
one beautiful morning.
She, seeing and understanding
the reason for that flower,
to pick it up she leaned
so much that she fell.
On the water, with that flower,
she drifted towards the sea,
and he too, from the pain,
did not return from Piedmont.
He had a saffron-colored lapel
and a cyclamen-colored jacket,
he walked from Lodi to Milan
to meet the beautiful Gigogin.
She waited for him in the street
among the stars holding a flower
and in a dream of poetry
they found themselves united again.
(Spoken)
Narrow the leaf, wide the street
say your piece
what we have said:
A saffron-colored lapel.
The story of a love!