All language subtitles for Flamenco.(de.Carlos.Saura).(1995)

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Original subtitles

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Flamenco surfaced in Andalucia in the middle of the 19th century.

The mixture of people, religions and cultures created a newtype of music.

Greek rattles, Mozarab jarchas...

Gregorian chants, Castillian romances and Jewish laments...

the sound of blackness and of the gypsy settlers from distant lndia...

all blended to create the musical structure we now call Flamenco.

And it is expressed through song, dance and the guitar.

l've got troubles

yes, l've got troubles

because you're leaving my side

when l'm so in love with you

if you're name is Dolores

why don'tyou jump in the river

and gather camarons in your skirts

they'll come to grief

what are they trying to do

they're just lowlifes swanking around

they don't know what's going on

Mart๏ฟฝn Pirulero

his cape dragging along the ground ay, he's been hit

there's a door to my soul

that needs no key

l always leave it open

no one can close it on me

you threw a lemon at me and hit me on the forehead

that's what love does to you makes you cheeky

ay, l love you so much

that l just can't punish you

mama, the kitten has scratched me

put it outside put it outside for a while

what a dark street

what darkness

what a pretty girl if her mother would give her to me

there comes Pepe with the coal but l have something else to sell

you always said to me you always said

l shouldn't love you so much you didn't deserve it

l come and see you

l come and see you white petticoat and skirt

for you, for you l'd die

for you, for you l'd die if you would only come to my side

don't scorn me, gitana

l'm a saint, a good man, gitana

you only want my money, gitana

l'm not going with you anymore, gitana

when the moon comes out l am going to see you

because it lights up my path gitana, for me to love you

sorrow, sorrow, my god

l'm so sad

ay, Jesus of the miracles she's gone and left me

now, l'm going back to my mother, gitana

wherever she wants to take me

you only want my money, gitana

ay, you only want my money, gitana

four Franciscans, four from El Carmen

four from El Carmen four from La Victoria

there they go, twelve friars

that's why you should keep an eye on the lemons in your orchard

l'll marry you, lndiana

if your father finds out

and tells your mother

my gorgeous Cuban girl

l have a house in Havana waiting just for you

ay, with an ivory roof

and a raised floor

for you, my white dove l carry the fleur-de-lys

in the morning

after drinking my coffee

l like to stroll through Havana

with a lighted cigarette

l like to take it easy sitting on a seat or an armchair

and l buy myself a paper

one of the dailies

and l look like a millionaire a rich man of the town

traca tra traca tra ay, ole arsa y toma

tran trabili trabili tran tran tran trabili trabili trero

arsa y toma, arsa y toma trabili tran

ay, lemon seller, give me some lemonade

l'm a gypsy, made of the salt of C๏ฟฝdiz

what made you

wash your face

and brush your hair

when you knew how l was feeling

on the way to Cartuja

before reaching the pine groves

l turned around and looked back

and called out to my mother

ay, what madness

the things l was doing for you

l just wanted to show you

what l was feeling

l'm not

who l was

nor who l was

nor who l should be

l'm like a piece of furniture

sad and ignored

l couldn't

it was a stormy night

l wanted to sleep but l couldn't

l dreamtyou were with someone else

and l even bit my pillow

and almost lost my mind

l fell asleep thinking aboutyou

you're the portrait of heaven itself

l woke up and saw you were not with me

and began to cry my heart out

what is to become of me

my tears were falling

into a glass

but now my tears fall to the floor

because l've cried so much

the glass is full

it's what l love most the fandango is my joy

it's the song l love most

it takes my troubles away

with a fandango from Alosno

and the break of day

why don'tyou come to my side

to my side

you knowthat l love you

butyou don't seem to care about me

people are talking about

people are talking about how attentive you are

how attentive you are

to la ''sancha''

and lies become truth

l grieve so for my mother

how am l going to have another mother like the one l had

l wanted to go on, but he cut me off.

l'll be sentenced to death

if they see me talking to you

my killers can

oh mother of my heart

my killers can

get their knives ready

l'll be sentenced to death

if they see me talking to you

ay, l'm tough as stone

l've been through so much torment and pain

so l wouldn't feel

oh my lover

so l wouldn't feel

the wounds in my heart

ay, l needed to be so tough

ay, how you make me feel

full moon in the sky

wherever you go may the heavens guide you

may God give you good fortune

you make me cry

full moon in the sky

l'd sell the shirt off my back

ay, who wants to buy it

it's going cheap

for your freedom

l'd sell the shirt off my back

who wants to buy it

as l loved her so much

l took her out for a ride

and l held a hat in front of her

to keep the wind off her face

don't torment me any more

because l feel just like that boat

buffeted by the waves

l love you

you want me to love you

butyour husband should love you

it's his duty after all

this old lady with this old lady

she gives me courage because she grumbles

the black ones smell of cheese the young ladies smell of olives

and the pretty gypsy girls smell of ripe pineapple

that's why, that's why, that's why

l don't love you any more now it's more than that

now, yes l love you

because l don't love you you are furious with me now

because you are not my taste hey Manuela, don't scratch me

because l don't love you you are furious with me now

and now, alright

l do love you, l love you l'm going to love you

l'm happy as can be

when you're by my side

if l were to die right now

l don't think l'd feel a thing

you were my true love

and you've gone and left

there was a terrible pain in my soul

there was a terrible pain in my soul when my mother died

when dawn was breaking

my true love

up high on that mountain l cut a reed l cut a flower

working on the land

l want a lad to take the oxen out to plough

but a lad who can play the tambourine too

who can play the tambourine too

everyone called her the saint

the girl called Angustina

everyone called her the saint

she goes to the entrance of the mines

and prays for hope

but all hope is lost

l've been left something

my dad has left me an old oil lamp

how wonderful

l dream about him night and day and for twenty reales

l'd sell my lamp which belonged to my father

l dreamt that Sevilla was made of chocolate

and the Giralda of candied pine nuts

and the Torre del Oro of toffee

and the Guadalquivir flowed with anisette

ay, a hunk of bread

what is that shining among the olive groves

it's my girl's eyes

which are like my mother's

there's a brightness in your eyes which l gave you

you took me from the darkness and at my side l saw you suffer

that's why you'll always be mine and l'll be yours

you'll always be what l never expected of anyone

l'll always be atyour side

whether the sun comes out or not

if you want to come, then come

and if not, tell me to go

and don't show me the door

like a pitcher of water l'm leaving you, leaving you

once when Juana asked you to comb her hair

you threwthe combs out of the window

and the day you wanted to comb her hair she said no

you are only worth as much

as the smallest stone on the pavement of my street

on the pavement of my street

ay, mother

the paths were made of water, wind and cold

an old man walked along very sad and troubled

glory to the blessed mother Victoria glory to the new born, glory

they arrived at an inn and asked for shelter

but the wretched innkeeper turned them away, glory

l have no room

and it's two in the morning

no room for a pregnant woman, glory

if you have money

the whole house is yours

but if you have none there's no room, glory

and from there they went and found a crib

and between the ox and the mule the divine word was born, glory

to the blessed mother Victoria glory to the newborn, glory

What do you want to sing? -Whatever you want.

Why don't we do ''The Butterfly''? -Alright.

once upon a time

a white butterfly

who was the queen

of all the butterflies of the dawn

alighted in the gardens

on the most beautiful flowers

and whispered stories to the carnations and the violets

happy little butterfly

so pleased with herself, so flirty

she looked like almond blossom

fluttering in the cool breeze

but the collector came along

one spring morning

and from a jasmine in bloom he took our queen prisoner

he fastened her with pins

on a piece of black card

and took her to his museum of short-lived, dead beauties

the butterflies of the dawn

wept as they flew around the glade

the white butterfly settled in a carnation

but the carnation wasn't pleased white butterfly and red carnations

red like the lips of someone l know

Your hands should move like doves.

Now l'll dance a bit to the singing.

tiriti tran tran tran

tarata tran tran tran tiriti tran tran tran tran

l'm feeling so confused

oh, love of my life

l'm feeling so confused

and l go over the walls

which lead to your doors

the poppy in the field said to the wheat

l'm not marrying anybody l don't know aboutyou

the poppy in the field said to the wheat

when l look at her she cries

l don't know what's the matter with your mother

because when l look at her she cries

l don't know what l should do

when l look at this lady

when she walks along

cinnamon and roses fall to the ground

the bride is arriving shining like the stars

an early rose a white handkerchief

the gypsy girls are dancing to the tango beat

at La Linea Fair

l bought a dapple-grey pony

for my girl to ride

the party is over now

dawn is breaking and the lark is singing

l ripped my shirt so l took it off because it's torn

the gypsy woman of the century gets drunk on the aromas

of the sweets, sweets, sweets the child's sweets

l don't know how

ay, the dimples

ay, the dimples on your face

how can l resist them

in the roots of an olive tree l hid my soul

and the old gypsy woman found it there

weary of so much walking around these lands

l am tired of calling

at the shore of your door because you never answer

my life is my own and your life is yours

why don't we put them together and make them one

once l looked into the well of love

l love you green, yes, yes l love you green, ay, ay, ay

l love you green

green, l love you green green wind, green branch

the boat on the sea the horse on the mountain

with the share on her waist she leans on the balustrade and dreams

green eyes, black hair her body of cold silver

my friend, l want to swap your horse for my house

my saddle for your mirror my knife for your blanket

my friend, l am bleeding l've come from the Puertos de Cabra

and if l were a boy and was striking this deal

my friend, l want to die decently in my bed

and if possible with sheets from Holland

my friend, tell me where she is where is that bitter girl

l waited for her so many times l waited for her so many times

green, l love you green green wind, green branch

the boat on the sea the horse on the mountain

[ Skipped item nr. 327 ]

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