Arbolé, Arbolé . . .

English Translation

Tree, tree

dry and green.

The girl with the pretty face

is out picking olives.

The wind, playboy of towers,

grabs her around the waist.

Four riders passed by

on Andalusian ponies,

with blue and green jackets

and big, dark capes.

"Come to Cordoba, muchacha."

The girl wont listen to them.

Three young bullfighters passed,

slender in the waist,

with jackets the color of oranges

and swords of ancient silver.

"Come to Sevilla, muchacha."

The girl wont listen to them.

When the afternoon had turned

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