I went out of my Seville,
an april day,
smelling like a carnation
and I came to Madrid,
trilling my voice
like a bell.
And Madrid receives me with the Cibeles,
which is a silver mirror of faithful lovers.
Where do you go, to what you came for
what are you looking for here?
Where do you go?
A fitting love,
that gets stuck in my sense
like the air of Madrid...
If to Retiro I come, my blood burns
with the sparks of fire in the afternoon
From Atocha to las Vistillas
I'm looking for a love
and the flowers, of la Villa
of Madrid, give me their smell;
with their smell I'm in heat
to the light of this sky
that is a royal tapestry,
Oh Madrid of my soul!
while goes by El Prado
the golden ghost
of love of Madrid.
Going down by Curtidores
I loked for my Julián,
and I found him there,
and then, in La Arganzuela,
the attractive lad
who was Juan José.
The virgin of La Almudena advices me
that he doesn't miss the evenings of her novena.
Where do you go, so sevillian
what are you looking for here?
Where do you go?
To ask, like sister
to Casta and Susana,
to teach me Madrid.
Manzanares chulapo, how good you warble,
when some cute lad gives me compliment