Andaluz

It's been forty years already
that you live far from the south
like the one going to El Rocío
they wore espadrilles
with a tight heart
a song in the throat
like the one going to El Rocío
Combining night and day
one day to see my parents
I returned to Andalusia
and there they called me a stranger
friends I had before

I have a little white house
with the appearance of lime
when I find its keys
I miss it with affection
and it reminds me of my street
I cry like a child
when I find its keys
the songs they sang
at the foot of that washbasin
the women who washed
and you who call me a stranger
even played with me

Don't call me a stranger
you'll make her cry
her wicker basket
with feeling and sewing
with the gaze of a Virgin
was sleeping under the moon
in her wicker basket
I threw a stone into the water
and it sank into the dark depths
with the earth it dreamed of
and it returned to its course and river
the water splashing

I have a heart that walks
to the beat of a brotherhood
I want to hear its drums
when the Nazarene passes by
call me so I don't cry
and even though the town is far away
I want to hear its drums
and my mother called me
green and white was the handkerchief
to dry my face
and you who call me a stranger
saw her from the window

Don't call me a stranger
because I was born Andalusian
and whoever is born Andalusian
carries a pinch inside
even though far from the south