Mora

If it's true that words are carried away by the air
Let the wings take them to your street
If there's a role for everyone
Yours of loving me suits you well
And if I have to call what I feel
By its name, I don't know

If new illusions are not lost
I will die in these chains of sea and honey
If the flame we lit doesn't go out
I will always be drinking from your sweet waters
And if one day the same air
That brings and carries my words,

Oh, oh!...
Will put it out...

Mora, Mora, come with me, with me
Oh to the broom, broom of the olive trees

If this old feeling doesn't deceive me
A path of happiness calls me
If passion leads me to madness
I will seek balance in your sweetness
I will get drunk on your smile
Of caresses, of tenderness, oh, oh
Of tenderness
Mora, Mora, come with me, with me
Oh to the broom, broom of the olive trees