Era Una Vez
Era una vez un poeta que amante
Dejó sus flores correr por el río
Para su amor que esperaba distante
Con ansiedad el envío del amor.
En las alas del recuerdo recorriendo mil destinos,
No doliendo del pasado y hace un alto en el camino.
Aquel cuento que una noche una voz triste y lejana
En su espera sin mañana le contara su emoción.
Se apagaron las estrellas
Y sin rosas el rosal,
No ha podido hallar olvido
Aquel cuento sin final.
Era una vez un poeta que amante
Dejó sus flores correr por el río
Para su amor que esperaba distante
Con ansiedad el envío del amor.
Aveva un bavero color zafferano
E la marsina color ciclamino
Venidi a piedi da lodi a milano
Per incontrare la bella gigogin.
Y sus versos y sus rosas deslizándose en el río
No encontraron sol ni puerto en su dulce desvarío.
El poeta noche a noche sin cansancio y sin hastío
En su pena sin reproche llama al sueño de cristal.
Era una vez un poeta que amante
Dejó sus flores correr por el río
Para su amor que esperaba distante
Con ansiedad el envío del amor.
Aveva un bavero color zafferano
E la marsina color ciclamino
Venidi a piedi da lodi a milano
Per incontrare la bella gigogin.
Era una vez un poeta que amante
Dejó sus flores correr por el río
Para su amor que esperaba distante
Con ansiedad el envío del amor.
Aveva un bavero color zaferazo ...
Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time, a poet who was a lover
Let his flowers run down the river
For his love who waited far away
With anxiety, he sent his love.
On the wings of memory, traveling a thousand destinations,
Not hurting from the past and making a stop along the way.
That tale that one night a sad and distant voice
In its wait without tomorrow told him its emotion.
The stars went out
And without roses the rosebush,
He couldn't find forgetfulness
That endless tale.
Once upon a time, a poet who was a lover
Let his flowers run down the river
For his love who waited far away
With anxiety, he sent his love.
He had a saffron-colored collar
And a cyclamen-colored jacket
He came on foot from Lodi to Milan
To meet the beautiful Gigogin.
And his verses and his roses sliding in the river
Found no sun or harbor in his sweet delirium.
The poet night after night without fatigue and without boredom
In his pain without reproach calls for the dream of glass.
Once upon a time, a poet who was a lover
Let his flowers run down the river
For his love who waited far away
With anxiety, he sent his love.
He had a saffron-colored collar
And a cyclamen-colored jacket
He came on foot from Lodi to Milan
To meet the beautiful Gigogin.
Once upon a time, a poet who was a lover
Let his flowers run down the river
For his love who waited far away
With anxiety, he sent his love.
He had a saffron-colored collar...