That's how Lisbon is, laundry hung in the window
That's how Lisbon is, the purple jacaranda tree
I know of another Lisbon, of aprons and slippers
Oh, the Lisbon of the fado, of Alfama1
and hopefully
Lisbon lisboet, of the darkest night
Of streets turned to shadow, of nights and alleyways
Step on the ground, step on the stones, step on the life that is hard
Lisbon so alone, of little streets and alleys
But the face that peeks out from behind the curtain
Is the face of a past turned to love turned to now
Laughter of the tide on the mouth of a ladina
Laughter of the high tide in a kiss that lasts forever
And in this fado I'll make forget that I'll stay here
Lisbon without destination, that the fado made sing
A sailor city without having to sail
The caravelle of the night that one day will arrive
1. neighbourhood in Lisbon