Such is Lisbon, clothing hanging at the window
Such is Lisbon, purple jacaranda
I know of another Lisbon, of aprons and slippers
Ah! Lisbon of fado, Alfama and God willing
True Lisbon, of the darkest night
Of shadowed streets, nights and alleyways
Under foot the ground, stone cobbles, of life that is hard
Lisbon so alone, of back alleys and lanes.
But the face peeking from behind the curtain
Is the face that made love once, now makes
Fun of the spring tide with a sly mouth
Fun of the high tide in a kiss that lasts.
And in this fado I will leave forgotten here to stay
Lisbon adrift, that the fado did sing
Seafaring city without having to navigate
Night caravelle that one day will arrive