Il Ciliegio - Angelo Branduardi

Già ero vecchio e stanco

Per prenderla con me

Ma il vecchio giardiniere

Rinunciare come puo

All’ultimo suo fiore

Se l’inverno viene gia

Già ero vecchio e stanco

Ma la volli per me

E il sorriso della gente

Di nascosto accompagno

Il mio andare verso casa

E l’inverno viene già…

Lei era la più bella

Che avessi visto mai

Sorrideva fra le ciglia

E il mio cuore riscaldava

Era l’ultimo mio fiore

E l’inverno viene già…

Poi anche il mio ciliegio

A suo tempo maturo;

Lei venne un mattino

A chiedermene i frutti

«Devo avere quelle ciliegie

Perche presto un figlio avrò»

Io guardavo le sue guance

Più bella era che mai

E sentivo dentro me

Già crescere la rabbia

«Chiedi al padre di tuo figlio

Di raccoglierle per te»

Sorridendo come sempre

La spalle mi volto

E la vidi in mezzo al prato

Vero l’albero guardare:

Era l’ultimo mio fiore

E l’inverno viene già

Fu il ramo suo più alto

Che ciliegio chinò

Ed il padre di suo figlio

Così l’accontentò

Ed il padre di suo figlio

Così l’accontentò

Fu il ramo suo più alto

Che ciliegio chinò

Ed il padre di suo figlio

Così l’accontentò

Ed il padre di suo figlio

Così l’accontentò

Già ero vecchio e stanco

Per prenderla con me

Ma il vecchio giardiniere

Rinunciare come può

All’ultimo suo fiore

Se l’inverno viene già

I was already old and tired

To take her with me

But the old gardener

Give up as you can

At its last flower

If winter is already coming

I was already old and tired

But I wanted it for me

And the smile of the people

I accompany you secretly

My going home

And winter is already coming ...

She was the most beautiful

I have ever seen

She smiled between her lashes

And my heart warmed

She was my last flower

And winter is already coming ...

Then my cherry tree too

In his time ripe for her;

She came one morning

To ask me the fruits

“I must have those cherries

Because soon I will have a son "

I looked at her cheeks

More beautiful than ever

And I felt inside me

Already growing anger

“Ask your son's father

To collect them for you "

Smiling as always

My back is turned

And I saw her in the middle of the meadow

True the tree look:

It was my last flower

And winter is already coming

It was her tallest branch

What a cherry bent over

And the father of his son

So he satisfied it

And the father of his son

So he satisfied it

It was her tallest branch

What a cherry bent over

And the father of his son

So he satisfied it

And the father of his son

So he satisfied it

I was already old and tired

To take her with me

But the old gardener

Give up as you can

At its last flower

If winter is already coming