En Mi Astillero, Muero

The river rushes from Seville towards the sea, oh! the sea, why has the Giralda said that? And in San Lucas, its little boats smell like salt, smell like salt.
The dreams of my life are sailor dreams, using guide lows with my sailboat, let the current and the waves be my cradle and fall asleep looking at the stars and the moon.
The dreams of my life are sailor dreams, using guide lows with my sailboat, let the current and the waves be my cradle and fall asleep looking at the stars and the moon, and the moon.
Your waters are whirlpools due to the fight with the tide, how lucky I am, oh! out at sea, there's nothing left, here I die in my salt flats in my Doñana, ah... my shipyard.
The dreams of my life are sailor dreams, using guide lows with my sailboat, let the current and the waves be my cradle and fall asleep looking at the stars and the moon.
The dreams of my life are sailor dreams, using guide lows with my sailboat, let the current and the waves be my cradle and fall asleep looking at the stars and the moon.
The dreams of my life are sailor dreams, using guide lows with my sailboat, let the current and the waves be my cradle and fall asleep looking at the stars and the moon.
The dreams of my life are sailor dreams, oh, in my shipyard I die.