Russell Watson Granada
Granada, tierra sonada por mi,
mi cantar se vuelve gitano
cuando es para ti.
Mi cantar, hecho de fantasia;
mi cantar, flor de melancolia,
que yo te vengo a dar.
Granada, tierra ensangretada
en tardes de toros,
mujer que conserva el embrujo
de los ojos moros.
De sueno, rebelde, gitana
cubierta de flores,
y beso tu boca de grana,
jugosa manzana
que me habla de amores.
Granada, manola, cantada
en coplas preciosas,
no tengo otra cosa que darte
que un ramo de roas,
de rosas de suave fragrancia
que le dieran marco a la Virgen morena.
Granada, tu tierra esta llena
de lindas mujere, de sangre y de sol.
Translation:
Granada, land of my dreams,
mine becomes a gypsy song
when I sing to you.
My song, born of fancy;
my song, melancholy flower,
that I've come to offer you.
Granada, land covered in blood
from the bullfighting afternoons,
woman who retains the spell
of Moorish eyes.
A dream-land, a rebel, a gypsy,
covered with flowers,
and I kiss your scarlet mouth,
juicy apple
that tells me about love affairs.
Granada, my beautiful, sung
in precious coplas,
I have nothing else to give you
but a bouquet of roses
worthy of adorning the brown-skinned Virgin.
Granada, your soil is full
of beautiful woman, blood and sunshine.
