I - cheerful Cipollino.
I grew up in Italy
Where maturing oranges,
And the lemons and olives,
Figs and so on.
But the horizon under a blue
No olive without lemon
I was born a bow.
So my grandfather Cipollone
I come grandson.
My father - a bunch of kids,
Noisy family:
Cipolletti, Chipolluchcha,
Chipollotto, Chipollochcho
And the last - I am!
We all grew up on beds.
Very we are poor.
Because we patched
Jackets and pants.
Lord in shiny hats
Our bypass yard.
We see our onion smell
Too sharp.
And we are in favor of the poor.
Out of all the earth
Corner where you find
Onions on the table!
Throughout the known world
Onion family:
Chipolluchcha, Cipolletti,
Chipollochcho, Chipollotto
And, of course, I am.
For high fence
Maturing orange.
Well, I do not need fences
I'm not a gentleman.
I - Tsibulya I - Cipolla,
Garden onions.
I finished school in the garden
Onion Sciences.
But age is not the poor man Luka
Living in your own nest.
Though bitter was the separation,
I left the house.
I go to where better
In distant lands.
Goodbye, Chipolluchcha,
Cipolletti, Chipollotto,
Brothers and friends!