Islas Baleares

The sun rises in the city, the cathedral is pumpkin-colored,
The alley mixes with the smoke of a fishing boat.
The sand reflects the golden glass, pharaonic works of past times.

All different,
No two are the same,
A lot of people.
Balearic Islands, oh no,
Balearic Islands, oh yeah, islands...

The sun burns in Ciutadella for Saint John,
The revelry sounds, there are many horses,
Lemonade and gin xoriguer,
The people get excited and throw their hats,
The last touch of the flabiol,
'Until next year, God willing!'.

The sun sets in La Savina,
Against the light, the Barbaria lighthouse,
In Sant Ferran, Pepe's inn,
The Formentera Guitars workshop.

All different,
No two are the same,
A lot of people.
Balearic Islands, oh no,
Balearic Islands, oh yeah,
Balearic Islands, oh no,
Balearic Islands, oh yeah, islands...