Granada, bloodstained land in afternoons of bulls Woman that keeps the spell of the Moorish eyes I dream of you, rebel gypsy covered with flowers and I kiss you pomegranate mouth juicy apple that talks to me of loves Granada, Spanish woman (manola) sang in precious verses I have nothing else to give you that a bouquet of roses of roses of soft fragrance that gave frame to the dark skinned Virgin Granada, your land is filled of pretty women, of blood and of sun.