Patios De La Casa Vieja

Patios of the old house...
The one with the Chinese rose and the lemon tree,
The one with the mulberry and the jasmine,
The one with the grapevine next to the kitchen
Of the little mates conversed.
Patios that were silent
Witnesses of bustling hopes,
Of illusions and dreams,
That time was threading
To weave this mantle
That now sweetly descends
To shelter the years,
To cover the distance,
Warm the soul
Until it brands
A beautiful and nostalgic memory
That is attached to my life
And is dictating this song...

All things of how much come to my memory
From patio, grapevine, and moon
This zamba is being painted.

Love born in childhood
That grows over time,
Like a scent of orange blossoms
And jasmine in the wind.

(Chorus)
Patios of the old house,
Color of a sunny siesta,
Mate of long gatherings...
How beautiful things of how much...!
Attached inside my soul,
They are painting this zamba for me!

Each tile in the patios
Holds a beloved memory,
Each geranium is a dream
Of time already in bloom.

They keep tablecloths spread
From Christmas nights,
They know of joys and pleas
And they also know of sorrows.