Granada, tierra soñada por mí, Mi cantar se vuelve gitano cuando es para ti, Mi cantar, eco de fantasía, Mi cantar, flor de melancolía Que yo te vengo a dar. Granada, tierra ensangrentada en tardes de toros, Mujer que conserva el embrujo de los ojos moros, Te sueño rebelde y 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 rosas, De rosas de suave fragancia que le dieran marco A la virgen morena. Granada tu tierra está llena De lindas mujeres, de sangre y de sol.
Granada, land that I dream of, My singing becomes Gypsy when it is for you, My singing, echo of fantasy, My singing, flower of melancholy, That I come to give you. Granada, land bloodied in afternoons of bullfights, Woman that conserves the enchantment of Moorish eyes, I dream of you as rebellious and Gypsy, covered with flowers, And I kiss your carmine mouth, juicy apple That speaks to me of love. Granada, Spanish lady, sung in precious couplets, I have nothing to give you but a bouquet of roses, Of roses of delicate fragrance that form a setting For the dark maiden. Granada, your land is full Of beautiful women, of blood and of sun.