Tabaco Y Tinto de Verano

Down the alley of Tinte
I don’t dance there anymore
just to entertain you,
and that old melody
that you used to sing to me all day:
"Michelle, my beautiful girl."

How I miss those days;
even my heart doesn’t remember
how the hell I’d do it
to end it with you
by the wall or at the port,
water in the desert
for me, your body.

What happiness,
tobacco and summer red wine;
through the alley,
you holding my hands;
"Let me go now,
half of Cádiz is watching us:
let’s go to the lighthouse where you know,
where you know already."

One January morning,
when they were striking
at the shipyards,
we made love
while everyone locked themselves in
with the door watched
over by the authorities.

And it was revolutionary
that apartment full
of free-spirited tourists
and it was revolutionary
love and joints without a schedule,
and it was revolutionary
not to grow old.

What happiness,
tobacco and summer red wine,
running away from me
or holding my hands;
and on the bus
you confidently told me,
"My love, I’m dying to go to Cuba,
to Cuba already."

Down the alley of Tinte,
it was forever
the promise you made me;
and who would’ve told you
and your sweet twenty years:
love made a stranger
and you forgot.

What happiness,
tobacco and summer red wine,
running away from me
or holding my hands.
"Let me go now,
half of Cádiz is watching us:
let’s go to the lighthouse where you know,
where you know already."