I still remember the piano
of that girl
who was in Seville,
the fiancée of the embarked man,
she was never taking a nap.
Alone in the corridors of rocker,
of console and parrot, she dreams
of her beloved who went to Cuba,
and that woman
is playing the piano;
her white hands write
love letters
that have to return.
Oh, West Indian schooner,
oh, how much she loved him,
wheat was her hair when he embarked,
snow was her scarf when saying goodbye...
Oh, sighs the fountain,
oh, dozes the street cry...
An harmonica couplet
is going around in the balconies,
the galleons are sailing
in the pictures of the corridor...
It sways, it sways,
the schooner sways in the river
it sways,
coming from Sanlucar
with the tide.
Long live Sevilla
and the ships leaving
for the West Indies,
and the ships leaving
for the West Indies.
Long live Triana
and the ships coming,
and the ships coming
from Havana.
~ ~ ~
The harmonica shuts up,
the piano sounds
behind the curtains.
How sweet is playing now
the embarked man's fiancée.
The rockers dance their havaneres
with mahogany sound, jungle and rum.
And the balcony opens,
the street cry sighs,
oh, Baratillo suburb.
Murillo colours has
the sad siesta
of that ballroom ...
Oh, fiancé sailor,
oh, captain of my harbour.
How white are the sails of your schooner,
how secret the sorrows of my scarf.
Oh, he went away to Cuba,
oh, come for God's sake...
Let him come by the river
with his schooner from Sanlucar,
cause this couplet of sugar
makes my heart more sweet.
It sways, it sways,
the schooner sways in the river
it sways,
coming from Sanlucar
with the tide.
Long live Sevilla
and the ships leaving
for the West Indies,
and the ships leaving
for the West Indies.
Long live Triana
and the ships coming,
and the ships coming
from Havana.