Habaneras de Sevilla [English translation]

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.

• Artist:María Dolores Pradera