La Flor de Canela

Let me tell you, man from Lima
Let me tell you about the glory
Of the dream that evokes memory
Of the old bridge, the river, and the poplar
Let me tell you, man from Lima
Now that the memory still perfumes
Now that it still sways in a dream
The old bridge, the river, and the poplar

Jasmines in her hair
And roses on her face, gracefully she walked
The cinnamon flower
She spilled elegance and left behind
Aromas of mixture
That she carried in her chest

From the bridge to the poplar, her light step takes her
Along the path that trembles
To the rhythm of her hips
She gathered the laughter of the river breeze
And threw it to the wind
From the bridge to the poplar

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

Inhale the elegance that the cinnamon flower gives
Adorned with jasmines, enhancing her beauty
She carpets the bridge anew and adorns the poplar
That the river will accompany her step along the path

And remember that
Jasmines in her hair
And roses on her face, gracefully she walked
The cinnamon flower
She spilled elegance and left behind
Aromas of mixture
That she carried in her chest

From the bridge to the poplar, her light step takes her
Along the path that trembles
To the rhythm of her hips
She gathered the laughter of the river breeze
And threw it to the wind
From the bridge to the poplar