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Y fue una tarde, domingo grato,
en la retreta de aquel pueblito
que la gitana vio al paisanito
y en sus ojazos brilló el amor...

Cerca le dijo: “Si tú me dieras
una moneda, yo te diré
cuál es tu suerte... ¡Ay, si supieras!”
Y al paisanito le dio a entender...

Yo sé que por ti suspira de amor
quien te ama con toda su alma...
Morena de ojazos negros
que sufre por ti sin calma...

Tú no entenderás... y triste se irá
llorando tu fiel morena...
Tendrás en tu pecho pena
porque tu amor no vendrá....

(Instrumental)

Yo sé que por ti suspira de amor
quien te ama con toda su alma...
Morena de ojazos negros
que sufre por ti sin calma...

Tú no entenderás... y triste se irá
llorando tu fiel morena...
Tendrás en tu pecho pena
porque tu amor no vendrá....

(Unsung Part)

Y muchas tarde, en la retreta,
que indiferente el paisano estaba,
la fiel gitana se le acercaba
y emocionada siempre le habló...

Dejó de verla cuando la amaba
y el paisano buscó su amor,
mas la gitana se fue del pueblo
y en su secreto lloró el dolor...

English 

And it was one afternoon—a pleasant Sunday—
at the town bandstand in that little village,
that the gypsy girl first saw the country lad,
and love began to sparkle in her deep, dark eyes...

Drawing near, she whispered to him: “If you would give me
a single coin, I will tell you
what fate holds in store for you... Oh, if only you knew!”
And to the country lad, she gave this sign...

“I know that someone sighs for you with love—
someone who loves you with her whole soul...
A dark-haired girl with eyes of deepest black,
who suffers for you, finding no peace...

You will not understand... and she will turn away in sorrow,
your faithful, dark-haired girl, weeping as she goes...
And you will be left with an ache within your heart,
for the love you seek will never come...”

(Instrumental)

copy the two paragraph before instrumental

(Unsung Part)

And on many afternoons, back at the bandstand—
while the country lad remained indifferent—
the faithful gypsy girl would draw near to him,
and, with deep emotion, she would always speak...

He ceased to see her just when he had come to love her;
the country lad went searching for his love,
but the gypsy girl had already left the village,
and in the silence of her secret heart, she wept her pain away...