They may be the madwomen of Nevers or Seville
Bracelets that frolic, earrings that smile
To a gypsy dress, a gypsy that one meets
On a macadam stage, a story that is told
The music, it's her and the party makes its entrance
Almarita dances, sings for the gypsies
And may your heart fly in the wind, your soul in a caravan
They sing for all the springs
So much life and these big times
But they can't stay there
The gypsy soul just passes by
They commit suicide a hundred times a day
To say: "we don't sell out Algeria or love
These things don't grow back."
The music, it's her and the party makes its entrance
Chorus
They bear the marks of the journey
And know very well how to make us believe it
Just by watching them dance
Don't try to understand, just go for it
Neither sailor's wife nor whore
I know they will leave again
With the joys of people in one hand
And a suitcase full of songs
Where the music, it's her and the party makes its entrance
Chorus
There are those who work like crazy
To afford nails
To nail on their life sheets
But death is without luggage
I don't want any of this
Empty pockets and a heart full of love
That a gypsy left me
The music, it's her and the party makes its entrance
Chorus

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