The singing has his girlfriend which is the guitar.
And they go hand in hand,
like two true lovers.
Moan that tears from the throat
when the strings sound
to the beat of seguirilla and soleá.
Guitar, that has the soul of bride,
and your sounds are like bells of glory.
Guitar, that consents to be embraced,
to be touched and caressed
much more than a woman.
Guitar, you're a diamond tide,
flag and banner
of my love.
The strings of the guitar
melt with my throat
and we make a prayer
of love and hope.
The dancing wants to take the guitar.
And he fights with the singing, and in the stage
he marks the beat.
Women, like the wicker they stand up,
and twist and double themselves
without knowing that the guitar won't leave.
Guitar, that has the soul of bride,
and your sounds are like bells of glory.