Aveva Un Bavero

On a cold, dark evening
By the fire in the hearth
So many stories, so many tales
My grandpa used to tell
The most beautiful one I remember

Is the story of a love
Of a passionate love
That happily never ended
And the heart of a poet
Was so deeply touched
That the story of those times
Was put to music like this

He had a collar of saffron
And a coat of cyclamen
He walked from Lodi to Milan
To meet the lovely Gigogin
Strolling down the street
He sang to my sweet love
Gigogin, my hope
With your kisses, you steal my heart

But with others from the town
In Piedmont, he was sent away
And to be close
With his loving heart
Over the water of a stream
That flowed through Milan
So she could find him
Every day he laid a flower

She anxiously awaited him
Sighing all around, my love
And soaking it with tears
She held it tight to her heart

He learned that his return
Was finally drawing near
On the water, an orange blossom
He placed one fine morning
She, seeing and guessing
The reason for that flower
To pick it, she leaned in
So much that she fell
Into the water, with that flower
Towards the sea, she drifted away
And he, from the pain
Never returned from Piedmont

She waited for him among the stars
Up in the sky, holding a flower
And in a dream of poetry
They found themselves united again