La Flor de Estambul

Debuted in Paris, the flower of Istanbul,
Started to dance and everything fell silent.

Light in iridescent, purple and indigo,
From her winged hand to the grace of her chest.

And who wouldn't give their life for a dream
Of a goddess sculpted by genius?

Neither the sultan's favorite nor a slave for sale
At the door of the East,
She is the star of Pigalle,
The dancer who defied her fate.

And who wouldn't give their life to own
The air that stirs behind her ego?

To conquer the Eiffel Tower
Treading on the pride of the West,
She is the star of Pigalle,
The dancer who struck me dead.

And who wouldn't give their life for a dream
Of a goddess sculpted by genius?