La Flor de La Canela

Let me tell you, from Lima
Let me tell you about the glory
Of the dream that evokes memory
Of the old bridge
Of the river and the promenade

Let me tell you, from Lima
Now that the memory still perfumes
Now that it still sways in a dream
The old bridge, the river, and the promenade

Jasmines in her hair and roses on her face
Gracefully walked the cinnamon flower
She spilled elegance and left behind
Aromas of mixture
That she carried in her chest

From the bridge to the promenade
Her small foot takes her
Along the path that trembles
To the rhythm of her hips
She picked up the laughter of the river breeze
And threw it to the wind
From the bridge to the promenade

Let me tell you, from Lima
Oh, let me tell you, dark-skinned, my thoughts
To see if you wake up from the dream
The dream that entertains, dark-skinned, your feelings

Inhale the elegance that the cinnamon flower gives
Adorned with jasmines
Enhancing her beauty
She carpets the bridge anew
And adorns the promenade
That the river will accompany
Her steps along the path

And remember that

Jasmines in her hair and roses on her face
Gracefully walked the cinnamon flower
She spilled elegance and left behind
Aromas of mixture that she carried in her chest

From the bridge to the promenade her small foot takes her
Along the path that trembles
To the rhythm of her hips
She picked up the laughter of the river breeze
And threw it to the wind
From the bridge to the promenade