Tangos de La Sultana

Strumming the strings of his guitar
A sultan complained about his sultana
Your black eyes are two wells of stars
And your black hair is a rose without a moon

A rosemary bush smells like a body
There is no Moorish land in my mourning
Being a powerful king, I am a beggar
If I lack the flames of your affection

Don't mess with me anymore
Because you know well enough
That you flirt with me