Granada, tierra soñada por mí,
Mi cantar se vuelve gitano cuando es para ti,
Mi cantar, eco de fantasía,
Mi cantar, flor de melancolía
Que yo te vengo a dar.
Granada, tierra ensangrentada en tardes de toros,
Mujer que conserva el [bad word] de los ojos moros,
Te sueño rebelde y gitana, cubierta de flores,
Y beso tu boca de grana, jugosa manzana
Que me habla de amores.
Granada, manola, cantada en coplas preciosas,
No tengo otra cosa que darte que un ramo de rosas,
De rosas de suave fragancia que le dieran marco
la virgen morena. Granada tu tierra está llena
De lindas mujeres, de sangre y de sol.

Granada, land that I dream of,
My singing [bad word] Gypsy when it is for you,
My singing, echo of fantasy,
My singing, flower of melancholy,
That [bad word] to give you.
Granada, land bloodied in afternoons of bullfights,
Woman that conserves the enchantment of Moorish eyes,
I dream of you as rebellious and Gypsy, covered with flowers,
And I kiss your carmine mouth, juicy apple
That speaks to me of love.
Granada, Spanish lady, sung in precious couplets,
I have nothing to give you but a bouquet of roses,
Of roses of delicate fragrance that form a setting
For the dark maiden. Granada, your land is full
Of beautiful women, of blood and of sun.