Ai, Mouraria [English translation]

Ah, Mouraria

Of nightingales in the eaves

Of dresses the colour pink,

Of traditional trading (hawking)

Ah, Mouraria

Of passing processions

Of Severa in the wistful voice

Of the sobbing guitar.

Ah, Mouraria

Of the old Palma Street

Where I once

Let capture my soul

For having passed

At my very side

A certain singer,

Colour brunette,

Small mouth,

and teasing glances!

Ah, Mouraria

Of the man of my dreams

That lied to me

But whom I loved so much!

Love that the wind,

As a lament,

Took with him,

That even more now

All the time

I carry with me.

Ah, Mouraria

Of nightingales in the eaves

Of dresses the colour pink,

Of traditional trading (hawking)

Ah, Mouraria

Of passing processions

Of Severa in the wistful voice

Of the sobbing guitar.