The children would like to follow them
And dream on the paths
The children would like to follow them
But the gypsies are leaving.
The gypsies leave riding
Leave riding, leave riding.
The men ride the mares
And the women on the carts
Carry their little children
Breastfeed them on their breasts.
The gypsies leave riding
Leave riding, leave riding.
Little Carmela, the little young woman
the one on the first cart
said that at night the moon
promised her a white dress
And an olive gypsy.
The gypsies leave riding
Leave riding, leave riding.
The men ride the mares
And the women on the carts
Carry their little children
Breastfeed them on their breasts.
The gypsies leave riding
Leave riding, leave riding
Before they reach the river
The gypsies have put up their camp.
The aunt Carmen, the oldest one
With silver hair
Makes colourful flowers
Blue ones, red ones and white ones.
Carmen Montoya and the black one
Make baskets out of reed
Sitting on a rock.
The gypsies have fallen asleep
Their beds are made of rosemary,
Poppies and violets.
And so that they don't wake up
The water of the small river
Stopped suddenly.
The basketmakers
Scatter irises and rosemary
Irises and rosemay
While they walk.
With mint and rock roses
With mint and rock roses
The gypsies drink up
The clear water.
And with violets
With the violets
The gypsies adorn
Their tambourines.