Manuela Canta Saetas
Aún no se ha hecho ni de día
y Manuela ya baldea su patio con alegría,
y tararea al barrer una de Lole y Manuel,
pero suena tan quebrá, suena a ruina y a cañá,
suena a ganas de llorar,
tiene en los ojos girasoles
que no saben de frases de poetas, no señor,
que van sin ton ni son cuando Manuela canta saetas,
canta saetas
que van sin ton ni son cuando Manuela canta saetas,
canta saetas,
aún echan chispas sus andares
a pesar de años perdidos por recodos y olivares,
taconea al caminar, cuenta que no ha visto el mar,
que lo ha oído en caracolas que parecían cantar
fandangos de soledad,
tiene en los ojos girasoles,
que no saben de frases de poetas, no señor,
que van sin ton ni son cuando Manuela canta saetas,
canta saetas,
que van sin ton ni son cuando Manuela canta saetas,
canta
aún echan chispas sus andares
a pesar de años perdidos por recodos y olivares,
taconea al caminar, cuenta que no ha visto el mar,
que lo ha oído en caracolas que parecían cantar
fandangos de soledad
Manuela Sings Saetas
It's not even daybreak yet
and Manuela is already watering her patio with joy,
and hums while sweeping one of Lole and Manuel's,
but it sounds so broken, sounds like ruin and cane,
sounds like the urge to cry,
even her eyes have sunflowers
that don't know about poet's phrases, no sir,
that go without rhyme or reason when Manuela sings saetas,
she sings saetas
that go without rhyme or reason when Manuela sings saetas,
she sings saetas,
her steps still spark
despite years lost around bends and olive groves,
she taps her feet as she walks, says she hasn't seen the sea,
that she heard it in seashells that seemed to sing
fandangos of solitude,
she has sunflowers in her eyes,
that don't know about poet's phrases, no sir,
that go without rhyme or reason when Manuela sings saetas,
she sings saetas,
that go without rhyme or reason when Manuela sings saetas,
she sings
her steps still spark
despite years lost around bends and olive groves,
she taps her feet as she walks, says she hasn't seen the sea,
that she heard it in seashells that seemed to sing
fandangos of solitude